Chapter Text
chapter 1
It had been a long day already.
The last weekend of the month always seemed to be the worst time in the funeral business, and Eddie was already under no impression that this month was going to be any different. He had finally prepared the last body for the open casket tomorrow. Somehow, he made Old Lady Peabody look shipshape and spruced up. Or… as well as he could when the geriatric old cow had shuffled off this mortal plane with the same look of disgust she’d had plastered on her face for the last twenty years. It hadn’t left him with much to work with. Even if she had been suffering from some of the worst rigor mortis Eddie had seen since he was in the Upside Down, she no longer looked like she had just seen her own ghost and died on the spot from shock. She was almost passable as an actual human and not the bog troll she had been in life.
He was proud of his work. It always seemed a shame that they were just going to incinerate her tomorrow after the service. Still, she couldn’t call him a fairy anymore. Poisoned tongue hag.
He had learned early in this gig that he had to leave all his personal opinions of other people at the door. He could say what he wanted to them when they were dead on the slab, but he had to be nice to the ones they left behind.
It happened less and less now, the hate. The ghost of Jason Carver no longer haunted the minds of the good people of Hawkins. They had come around to an accused Satanist who was now in charge of making sure the dead got the sendoff they deserved. It was strange to think he was now a respected member of society when once the entire town had wanted his head on a stake. A monster of their own creation.
He tried not to let it sting too much if the mourning requested to be dealt with by another undertaker or funeral director. He knew he was good at this. It was the family's loss.
It was a million miles away from where he thought he was going to be at thirty-two. Eddie was pretty sure that if his plans had gone the way he had set them out, he would have already been six feet deep or nice and crispy. After all, he had always thrown himself into things full force. He would have been a perfect candidate for the 27 Club. It wasn’t as if death hadn’t bitten at his ankles enough times already.
Yet, here he was on a Friday night, kept company by the dead. In a job that he couldn’t say he didn’t love, as morbid as it was. It was a far cry from the headline shows and debauched afterparties he imagined as a teenager. It hadn’t been for lack of trying. But what was it they said about the best laid plans of mice and men? He had escaped the clutches of this good-for-nothing town only to end up back here with his tail between his legs, with none of his old life here to cushion the blow.
Starting again had fucking sucked. Not that he wasn’t eternally thankful to Gareth’s dad for giving him a chance when nobody else would. He had learned this job from the ground up, one dead body at a time, and unlike the relentless droning of school, he had found he didn’t hate learning; it wasn’t like he had anything else to do with his time.
So three-time dropout Eddie the fucking freak Munson had a degree now. An actual qualification, and the money that went with it. His home was above the funeral home on the outskirts of the town, and next year, when Gareth’s dad, Harry, took early retirement, he was looking to take over the business. After all, he had worked long and hard to get to where he was now. It was the only logical step.
Of Course, the job had its downsides. The hours were long, and he was always on call. His late nights of partying were replaced by three am phone calls to care homes and hospitals for sudden or expected deaths. Both were just as hard as the other. Yet people expected him to know the right words to say, to be strong when they couldn’t do it themselves. Then he would come home to the empty apartment, or go downtown and grab a late-night drink with Hopper or Wayne to talk about everything and about nothing in that way, men whose lives have fallen into a familiar hold pattern of empty nest, not quite retired yet normality. Bowling and darts, and pool, and maybe a trip up to Indy helped with the sameness of it all. But his trips to find a cheap thrill had waned of late. It felt like a chore to try.
It wasn’t that he was lonely (only it was). And the grim nature of his job left him alone on a Friday night with only Mrs Peabody for company.
At least the dead hadn’t started talking to him. Yet.
He was about to hang up his gloves for the night when there was a soft knock at the back door. It was past 9 pm. Nothing good ever came from a knock at the back door after 9 pm, especially not when you worked and lived in a funeral home.
He stripped his gloves, making sure the parlour was at least presentable. It was a good chance that whoever was knocking was going to be someone who had seen the place in its full gory glory. But if not, he really didn’t fancy having to mop up vomit this close to closing up.
“Two seconds.” He shouted as the tapping started on the door again.
“Come on, Ed, it’s lashing it down out here.” He recognized the voice—the Morgue assistant from the hospital. So this was a business thing and not just someone coming by to spend time with good old Eddie Munson. Shame.
Mark looked exhausted when Eddie swung the door open, bags under his eyes from lack of sleep, or maybe one or two too many late nights burning the candle at both ends. The guy was one of the few people in Hawkins who didn’t mind the strange smell of formaldehyde that hung around the back of the funeral home. It was something you got used to eventually,
“What are you doing here?” Eddie asked, ushering the other man in.
“Phones are down because of the storm,” Mark explained. “Forensics have had a time with this one. Only just released the body. The next of kin is out of the country, and they had to get the chief in to identify the body. What’s left of it. It has been a bit of a nightmare, to be honest. Family released the body to you an hour ago, via phone tag from the next town over, or you would have had him this afternoon.” Mark shook the rain from his hood. “We tried calling and figured it was just as easy for me to bring him here as to come get you when I couldn’t get a phone signal. I know it’s not standard practice, but I want to get home and out of this rain, and I can’t while I’ve got this guy, or what’s left of him, in my charge.” Mark’s voice sounded strained, the way it did when he could foresee a lot of overtime and a lot of paperwork on his horizon.
“Anyone we know?” Ed asked as the shorter man handed over the discharge papers. Asking had become a morbid habit that had become second nature. Death was all part of the Hawkins experience. Even if Undertaker hadn’t become his line of work, he still had a decent body count. It didn’t bode well that Hopper had become involved. That upped the likelihood of it being someone they all knew.
“Not a name I know and definitely not a face I recognize. What’s left of it, anyway? Like I said, Jim Hopper had to identify the body,” Mark shrugged. “Road traffic smash, a couple of days ago. Flipped and flamed his BMW and went through the screen. You got your work cut out for you. It might take you a week just to pick the bits of Beemer out of his skin. This one will definitely be a closed casket. Not unless you fancy scraping his face off the road up by the quarry?”
Eddie winced at the image that crossed his mind. It wouldn’t be the first time that stretch of road up towards Loch Nora had taken someone’s life. The locals avoided it if they could help it, even if it meant taking the long route in and out of town. It wasn’t worth the trouble. Everyone knew that the road was never properly repaired after the ‘earthquake’.
Yet this cadaver must have some ties to the area, though, if they were being left for Eddie to deal with. They should have known better. Especially when the area hadn’t had rain for weeks.
“Well, you'd better bring him in then, through the garage. There should be room in there to load out.”
Eddie closed the door behind Mark and headed into the garage, grabbing the gurney on the way and hitting the switch to raise the loading doors. As soon as the hospital transport backed up, Mark jumped out and popped the back door. Eddie didn’t need help with this bit. He could and had done it himself hundreds of times now. It was second nature.
“You coming to the service tomorrow?” Eddie asked as Mark rushed to grab the paperwork out of the front of the transport, evidently eager to get this over with.
“Hopefully not. Meg’s about ready to drop, and you know what they say about one out and one in…” He said, passing the file and the little silver tracking tag for the body over to Eddie.
“So I shouldn’t expect to see you at bowling on Monday, then?”
“Hopefully not.” The guy's face broke out with a grin. “New beginnings in the air, Eddie. can’t you taste it?”
“I can taste the beer I’m finally gonna get when I finish up your RTA.” Eddie sighed, shooing Mark towards the door. “Now fuck off and go play happy families. I got work to do.”
Mark was quick to do as he was told. The deluge of the storm outside quickly hid his taillights.
When the body was safely in the prep room, Eddie took the file and the token to the office, poured himself a cup of tepid coffee from the pot that had been sitting there since early afternoon, and opened the file to load the information into the system.
Eddie read the name once, blinked and rubbed his eyes, then read the name again. Felt like he had just been kicked in the guts. The coffee was acidic on his tongue as he tried not to spit it out, too shocked to remember how to swallow it down.
It couldn’t be?
But it was.
There in black and white: Harrington, Steve. R
Well, fuck.
He hated it when it was someone he knew.
Steve Harrington was not having a good day.
He was trying to remember that this was his choice; he had done it to himself, but it didn’t help the bad days get any better. A good day would be if he'd managed to get all the way to eight thirty without wanting to cry. He wasn’t going to lie. He had figured running around after Dustin and his crew of miscreants would have prepared him for anything his life could throw at him. It hadn’t really dealt him a fair hand with the cards he was currently trying to shuffle.
He really wished Robin was here. She at least could speak the local lingo. But Steve was riding this river solo at his ex’s request. Lana had never gotten on with Robin. He should have taken that as his first sign. His second sign should have been when Robin told him she hated Lana just as much as Lana hated her. Robin had very rarely steered him wrong. Abandoned him in his hour of need, both paddles off up the river of their own accord … yes, but pointed him in the wrong direction? Never.
Yet here he was now, standing at what he hoped was the right train station in the middle of a city he never wanted to be in again, something he was only willing to tolerate for the good of his son.
He really just wanted to be back in San Francisco, back in the shitty two-up two-down he had relocated to once he finally told his dad where to shove his stupid job. But he’d had to fly halfway across the world to pick his kid up from his summer break with his mom. Lana, THE EX in all capitals. No exclamation marks needed.
Lana had managed to fix and re-break his broken heart in a whirlwind of romance and misled hope. Chasing something that he wanted, but from the wrong person, was the Steve Harrington special, but he never saw that til after the fact. His own pig-headed stubbornness refused to even listen to the woman who had had his back for the last decade.
Robin had warned him, but Steve hadn’t listened.
Lana was a riot of noise and chaos, and naturally, Steve had been drawn straight into it.
Opposites attract. His dad had loved her. Another red flag he should have heeded. Anyone Steven Richard Harrington Sr deemed worthy of his time was a walking time bomb. And Lana was a time bomb with a faulty clock—never quite reaching zero, but getting close enough that everyone around her braced for fallout.
When they had fallen apart, really fallen apart, it hadn't felt like a breakup. It had felt inevitable. It had been the most chaotic two years of Steve’s life ( Upside Down not counted ), but he wouldn’t have been surprised if Lana didn't think they were still a couple. The way she went on now was no different from when they were together, just without the sex. Although Steve was pretty sure she was still getting a lot of that, just not off him. Sometimes she probably even bothered to ask them their name, though she would only forget it the next day,
caught up in whatever her mind had fixated on next, chasing the next thing that had grabbed her attention.
It was nice when that fixation was on Steve. Nice enough that he had managed to get a son out of it.
But Steve fell hard, and Steve fell fast. and the thing he had been running from since he left Hawkins, he had just found somewhere else.
It was glorious while it lasted.
Those first few months, when Gabriel was born, Steve had thought he finally had everything he ever wanted. Only for Lana to go back to work, back on the road, leaving them for long hours and sometimes days. Steve and the child they had created second to whatever artistic pursuit had grabbed her fancy.
It was all a little too familiar. It was too close to what he had run away from in Hawkins. History repeating itself.
There was a reason that Steve had full custody. Lana could barely look after herself.
The only reason he had been willing to leave Gabriel with his mother for the summer was that her parents would be around; they were nowhere near as likely to leave their only grandchild alone. He hated that there was even a smidgen of a chance that his own son could end up alone. Not when he had grown up that very way. Steve doted on his son, wanted to make sure that he had everything Steve wished he'd had when he was a child. So here he was, two flights later and a train journey into the city of love, to pick up the only human who had ever loved him unconditionally, other than Robin.
So far, since Robin and her girlfriend Laura had abandoned him at the airport, he had gotten on the wrong train, then gotten off at the wrong station, and had struggled to find a take-out coffee anywhere in this godforsaken city.
He hated that it was 3 pm here and 7 am at home. He was jet-lagged. He had no cell service in France, and the last thing he had to eat was a soggy bagel on the flight somewhere over the Atlantic.
He checked his watch. As per usual, Lana was late. How she ever got anywhere was a mystery he didn’t need to worry himself about anymore. It was none of his business where she went or what she did when they weren't together. However, when their kid was involved, it was Steve’s business. He had one day in Paris with Gabe before he had to fly them back home, and he wanted to try and get at least one father-son day out of his school break.
It was 3:15pm by the time a familiar face came into view. Lana was tucked below a dark black fedora and hiding behind sunglasses, but unmistakable in her swagger. Steve would have been angry, should have been angry. But the styrofoam cup of happiness she held out like an olive branch tempered that anger down slightly.
“I know how you Americans need your coffee.” She said as she waited for the human tornado that was Gabriel Harrington-Cadieux to barrel his dad off his feet. It had been a long five weeks, and Gabriel had shot up another few inches since Steve had seen him off at the airport back at the beginning of the holidays. Steve pulled him in, suddenly feeling a lot more awake now that his missing piece had been returned.
“Dad, not so tight,” Gabe complained, as he tried to squeeze Steve even tighter into himself.
“I've got a whole summer break of hugs in me. Let me have this before you get so big you don’t want them anymore!” Steve said, kissing Gabriel on the head and getting the chuckle from his son that he had missed like air.
“No child of Steve Harrington would ever refuse a hug. Half French or not.” Lana chuckled as people grumbled around them. Steve didn't care. Let them grumble. “He even tried to hug Maurice, and we all know how that would have ended.”
“Uncle Maurice calls me The American. I don't think I'm allowed to use the word he calls you.” Gabriel said, finally pulling out of the hug and letting Steve get a proper look at him. His dark hair fell curly around his ears, just like his mom's. It was overdue for a cut, but Steve knew that was a fight for future him to deal with. Chocolate sat speckled around his face, spotting in between the freckles that had come with being out in the sun for long days in the Parisian countryside. Steve was happy to see that he had tan lines on his face. That meant he had been wearing the glasses that he had been the source of most of the arguments he and Gabriel had been having back home before he left. There was nothing quite as stubborn as a Harrington who didn’t want to do what he was told. Sure enough, as Lana passed Steve his coffee, she also passed him his glasses. The little case was covered in stickers of his latest obsession, Jack from The Nightmare Before Christmas.
“Our son is obsessed with death.” Lana accused him, as if she wasn’t swanning around looking like she just walked out of some sort of vampire movie.
“Our son is fine. He’s six. I’m not going to ground his curiosity voyage.” Steve smirked at the eye roll Lana gave behind her tinted lenses as she scooped Gabriel’s sunglasses out of her pocket; he had probably taken them off on the Metro and put them down somewhere. The kid had gone through at least four pairs since Christmas. Steve was starting to think that his own forgetfulness was down to genetics, and not the several concussions he had to his name.
His son could lose himself in an empty room. Although that could just be his mother’s personality coming through.
Lana leaned down and popped her son’s sunglasses on his face. He matched her eye roll with his own.
“Jack is the Pumpkin King Mom. He’s cool cause he’s a skeleton.” Gabriel said with a dramatic sigh, looking at Steve for backup.
“He’s also dead. So he can take off his head to recite Shakespearean quotations, don’t you know that?” Steve laughed as he sipped the nectar of the gods Lana had passed him. It was lukewarm at best, but his last proper coffee was in Seattle eleven hours ago. He would have killed someone for a four-day-old drip pot if he had to go much longer.
“Mike sent over some of Will's old art things for you. He says he will show you how to animate the next time he’s in town for work.”
“The word Uncle Maurice calls you is the same as what you call Uncle Mike,” Gabriel said sagely.
“Then you better not use it,” Steve said, suppressing a laugh when his eyes caught Lana's over their son’s head. “I take it your brother is home for the summer?”
“And just as charming as ever. Rest assured, he will not be coming to wave you off. After all, you sullied his sister; for that, you are a man of dishonor.” She said dramatically, every ounce the drama queen she was born to be.
“Oh, and there was me thinking that it was because I quit the company and caused chaos on the way out,” Steve said with a shrug, just as capable of fighting without making it obvious to his child as his ex was.
“Not all of us have our mother's fortune to fall back on, Steve,” Lana said with a hint of bitterness in her voice. As if she didn’t have more money than Steve in the bank.
“I very much doubt that's the issue, unless he wants me to invent a time machine and not get you pregnant?”
Lana laughed, getting to her feet again, and shoved Gabriel’s suitcase towards Steve. “No, he doesn’t get to take our life away from us. No matter how much he would like you to drive off a cliff, he would rather you didn’t do it with his nephew in the car.” She leaned in and kissed him on the cheek. “And I am rather fond of the pair of you.”
Fond of, fond of, as if Steve hadn't moved to the other side of the world to be with this woman. Fond of. It hadn't ever really been love, not on Lana’s side anyway. He really was an idiot for a pretty face and a wild personality, wasn’t he?
Lana knew her words had hit the target dead on. And Steve knew that this was the reason Lana had asked Robin not to come. It would have ended up in a fist fight. It had happened before.
But as it stood, Steve let the acidic words hidden in niceties slide off him. He did a lot for the sake of the little person who stood between them both. The only reason he was here now. He couldn’t run away from this heartache. He was tied in for the long run.
“You two are strange. Why don’t you act like everyone else's mom and dad and fight?” Gabriel complained, looking between them both. Lana shrugged. “You want us to fight?” She asked, but didn’t wait for an answer, getting down to his level. “Listen, Gabby, not everybody's the same. Me and your Dad? We both love you very much, and as much as we like each other, we are not supposed to be together. We could fight, but that would just make everyone sad, wouldn’t it? But you and your dad? Absolutely, 100 % supposed to be together. I would never try to get between the two of you. So that is why I send you to the land of the free, and I see you when the winds blow you in this direction.” Lana took off her sunglasses then, making sure that her son’s attention was completely on her. Her dark eyes glanced towards Steve before returning to their son.
“I have to go. I will miss you every second until we see each other again, Gabriel. But I will be visiting soon enough,” she pushed his hair back to kiss his forehead. He complained, pulling his hair back down as fast as he could, jolting a laugh out of his mom. “You be the best you can be for your papa, alright? Remember, I love you very much.”
It was a testament to the kid that he looked unfazed by the goodbye. They were part and parcel of a life of separated parents. Although most kids probably didn’t get transatlantic flights as part of the handoff. Hell, at the age of six, Gabriel probably had more air miles than most fully grown adults.
Gabriel was nonplussed as he pulled his mother into a quick hug, then busied himself with the contents of his bag.
Lana stepped back to her full height, bringing her eye to eye with Steve. She had yet to put her sunglasses back on, and it struck Steve just how long it had been since he had seen her eyes. They had always been so expressive.
“Listen, your dad and the other directors had a huge fight. Maurice says he stormed out a few weeks ago, and other than the occasional email, he’s not been in the office. I know you don’t really speak to him, but I thought you might want to know just in case he turns up at your house full of hell.” Lana was not remotely interested in the ins and outs of the family business. But she wasn’t stupid enough to completely ignore them. Still, when Steve had finally jumped ship, Lana had been quick to pat him on the back and tell him it was about time.
“Like my dad even knows where my house is, Lana. He’s not seen Gabe since he was two,” Steve complained. "He's just a sad, lonely old man. My mother probably died just to get away from him.” Steve shook his head. He knew he shouldn’t speak ill of the dead, especially not his mom, whose last triumphant fuck you towards his dad was leaving all of her money to Steve when she died. A huge portion of his dad’s investment money had been hiding in her name, and it had left Steve with enough financial security to finally get out from his father's shadow and hand the percentage shares of the company over to Lana’s brother. Steve still had the 2% he had from birth, a safety net. His foot in the door.
He had never really wanted to go into the family business anyway, but once Robin and the kids left Hawkins, he had been hard pushed to find a reason to stay. But he had hated every single part of his job and was quick to take the way out when it presented itself.
“I would not put it past her. Not one bit.” Lana said with a sad smile. Elizabeth Harrington may have been an absent mother for most of his younger life, but in her last years, she had excelled at being a grandmother. Lana and she had been closer than Steve and his mother had ever been. “But still, if you do hear from him, tell him Maurice needs to speak to him.”
She swept in to kiss Steve again on the cheek. “Safe travels.” And with that, she was gone. Out of his life until the next time she was contractually obliged to see her son again. Steve watched her till she disappeared down into the crowd, wondering how long it would be before Gabriel disappeared out of his life like everyone else he loved.
Eddie knew he shouldn't have alcohol while he was working. His job was depressing enough without him adding alcohol to the mix. It was also against about seventeen different codes of practice.
Yet, he had reached for the whiskey as soon as he was alone. Nobody else was about, and he was technically in his own home, just in the bit he used for work.
The storm raged outside.
It was fitting. It matched the one that was currently raging inside of Eddie.
The last time he had spoken to Steve-He had-They had-
He knocked back the shot of whiskey and poured herself another finger.
Fucking Steve Harrington.
Fucking Steve Harrington.
Eddie and Steve had not parted ways on the best of terms, and now the man was dead. Dead and waiting for whatever family member had been on the other end of the phone.
What was he doing in Hawkins anyway? The last Eddie knew, he was out in California. He had no need to be here. Hawkins was a place that people came to when they had nothing left, a place to die. That had been the last thing he had ever said to Steve, back when Eddie thought the world he deserved was outside of Indiana, pleading for Steve to come with him, to get the hell out of dodge before he died in this shithole of a town.
Eddie laughed. He hadn't meant it literally. (You mean figuratively. The little voice in his head that sounded like Robin scolded, and he took another swig of whiskey to silence it.)
After all that they had been through, Steve Harrington died in a car crash. Alone? It seemed like some sort of cosmic joke. Interdimensional monsters and mind wizards hadn’t taken him down. But the blind spot next to the quarry had.
That thought made Eddie angry. Didn’t matter what had happened, or hadn’t happened, between him and Steve. The guy didn't deserve that. He was supposed to get married and have a long and happy life, surrounded by that gaggle of kids he had so desperately wanted.
Wasn’t that part of the reason they had parted on such bad terms? What the hell was he doing back in Hawkins? Unlike Eddie, when Steve had left, he had managed to actually stay gone.
Until now, apparently.
The body Bag was still zipped closed. Sitting lumpy and cold on the table in the middle of the preparation room. The low light of the pendulum lamp cast a halo of light around the island in the darkness of the night. Eddie knew there wasn’t much he could do but prep and embalm him. Make ready for when Steve’s next of kin comes to make arrangements, whoever that may be. Eddie hadn’t spoken to Steve in almost ten years. A lot could have changed in that time.
Maybe tomorrow, Eddie would get to meet Steve’s wife? Not the best circumstances, true, but when were the right circumstances to meet your replacement?
He downed his whiskey. It burned the back of his throat, burned away that rogue thought that he was Steve's to replace. It was always just his own delusion. He was stupid enough to trust his head, to trust his feelings, to mistake friendship for love and break his own heart in the process.
He knew he was an idiot to still be carrying around the tightly sealed ball of feelings he had for Steve. It tainted every relationship he had attempted in the last decade. But by the time he had come back to Hawkins, Steve was long gone, having sold his soul to the company he had always sworn he would never join. Maybe Eddie had never known Steve. Maybe the body on the bag was just as much a stranger now as Steve apparently always had been.
He had run that morning in his head a million times. For someone who prided himself on his words, they had failed him at that moment. When he had needed to spell out to Steve in no uncertain terms what he had wanted. Eddie wanted Steve. Wanted Steve to come with him, not as a friend, but as a lover, but his words had crumbled and faded on his lips. Eddie had been so sure that they were on the same page. Yet as he had driven away with Steve getting smaller and smaller in his rear view mirror, the fact that they weren’t had become glaringly obvious.
And now Steve is dead.
Dead and under Eddie’s care, ten years of what if? now racing through Eddie’s mind.
Eddie had seen hundreds of dead bodies. The one on the slab now was just another to add to his list. But his hand was stuck on the zip, and the burning in his throat wasn’t from the whiskey now. It was from something much stronger that ache he had been trying to keep locked away since ‘89.
It was with trembling hands that he pulled down the zipper.
Eddie wasn’t sure what to expect. But Mark hadn’t oversold the state of the cadaver currently on the slab. There was little left that could have been used as identifiable. Eddie couldn’t help but wonder how Hopper had actually managed to get anything from the scraped and charred body.
Eddie shook his head, not quite believing that the inanimate shell that lay before him could be the man who had changed his entire outlook on life.
He pulled the zipper down further, needing to confirm for himself. There had to be something else, something that had convinced Hopper that this was Steve. He couldn’t have just gone off the Beemer, could he? How did identifying the body even work when they looked this bad? The workings of Hawkins and the Indiana police department as a whole were something that Eddie tried to avoid if he could help it. But he had been to too many call-outs on the request of Hopper to not have an idea of how bad the crash site must have been. Maybe Steve hadn’t been driving? Maybe it was someone else behind the wheel of his beloved car?
That was just hope talking; Steve had never let anyone behind the wheel of the BMW, even when they were all still living in each other's pockets. Even when he was so stoned he couldn’t walk straight, Steve would rather have slept in the back seat than let Eddie drive his precious baby. And they had, several times, when neither of them wanted to be alone, or being inside their respective homes felt like a jail cell.
Did Hopper know what else to look for? The things that made Steve Steve? Did he know that the scars on Steve’s shin looked like a crescent moon? That the bats had dragged him so far across that dry lake bed in the Upside Down that the scars along his back looked like somebody had cut off his wings, a fallen angel to walk amongst mortal men?
Eddie took another swig, drowning the memories of exclaiming such fancies to the man himself, drunk and on the edge of something. Something that should have been blazing like a supernova, but burned out like a falling star.
Stars. Constellations, the freckles and birthmarks that littered Steve’s body, mostly gone through fire and flame- but if Eddie could find evidence, some proof of their existence?
He angled his spotlight, glad he had a strong stomach as he leaned in closer.
He pushed the chair back abruptly, dropped the bottle, and yelled painfully into the night.
Eddie knew every single mark on Steve Harrington’s stupid, beautiful body, but he knew these best. Obsessed over them if he was being honest. The beautiful boy was made more desirable by the perfectly placed imperfections. Eddie had teased him relentlessly about being a bride of Dracula, while secretly wishing that Steve would just give him a chance, let him get the two dots on his neck under his lips, and savour the feel of Steve’s pulse against his tongue.
Something that was now never going to happen.
Because Steve was dead.
Dead and on the table, the body was his.
Chapter Text
Chapter 2
Eddie moved on autopilot throughout the weekend.
He nodded and smiled sympathetically as he led the mourners through the step-by-step process of saying goodbye. He was thankful that this service was held in the church in the center of town and not back at home.
It almost felt as if Steve’s ghost was watching him from the corner of the room as he moved through the setup and transport this morning. Moving Mrs Peabody's casket to the Hearse had felt almost as if he was being judged by unseen eyes from the walk-in where Steve's body lay, still waiting for instructions.
It had been a long night. He hadn’t finished prepping the body till after midnight
He had done what he could to the best of his ability. It would keep till the arrangements were made, but Mark had been right; he was going to have to make the call for a closed casket. No amount of reconstruction was going to make the body viewable to the public.
It made Eddie’s heart ache to know that Steve would be mourned without closure. Without a picture for his family of him at peace, a last goodbye. It was strange that nobody had called. Steve was well-loved; surely Hopper had let the rest of the party know?
The storm had passed, and the phones had been restored. Eddie had expected to see Hopper first thing this morning since he had been the one to identify the body. But now, as he prepared the crematorium for old Mrs Peabody's final journey, Eddie still hadn’t heard from anyone at all.
He tried calling Wayne again, but nobody picked up. Probably out hunting or fishing with his friends, it was the guys' weekend off after all. He debated trying to call Dustin, but couldn’t be the one that break this news. He would leave it to Hopper, like the coward that he was.
Yes, he dealt with death day in and day out, but this wasn’t just any death, was it? It was Steve. The linchpin that had held everyone together when the world fell apart around them.
“You look like shit, kid.”
“Long day at the office,” Eddie said as he slunk into his favourite bar stool at the Hideout. Kev, the bartender, nodded like he understood. Even if he didn’t. “Hopper been in?” Eddie asked as he took the beer he was offered without even ordering. Not like he hadn’t been drinking the same shit ass beer since he was too young to be in the place to begin with, but he hated that he was that predictable.
“Jim? Nah, not tonight, his kids got something going on up in Chicago. Him and the wife drove up for the weekend.” Kev answered. “Are you looking for him?”
“Just wanted to ask him something. That's all.” Eddie said, picking at the label on his bottle. Maybe Hopper and Steve were not as close as Eddie thought they were? Or maybe he wanted to let Jane and Will know himself? Eddie had toyed with the idea of calling Robin. But if Dustin was going to be a mess, it was nothing on how distraught Robin would be.
It was kind of pathetic that he had nobody at all to turn to right now, but he didn't begrudge the others for running from the Hellmouth as soon as the opportunity arose; after all, he had done the same himself.
“Ya’ll ever think we're supposed to do something bigger with your life?” Eddie asked Kev as he made his way back down the bar towards him.
The older man stopped in place, dirty rag washing out a pint glass. He mulled the idea over before reaching above the bar to put the still filthy glass back in place.
“Ed’s I think you need to be drinking something stronger than beer to be asking the deep and meaningful.” Kev turned, grabbing the whiskey from the top shelf—the good stuff. He poured Eddie a finger and pushed it across the bar. “First ones, on the house.”
Steve’s missing father was the last thing on his mind as he tried hopelessly to check into the hotel that Robin had booked for him. The man behind the counter had an American Flag on his lapel, and Steve knew that meant he spoke English. He was just being as awkward as possible for fun. It was only after his own son, who was more fluent in French than Steve could ever hope to be, took over proceedings that they got the keys to their room.
He wasn’t sure at what point he had lost all of his charm. But he had failed to negotiate even a smile out of the concierge. Maybe his boyish charm had gotten lost in translation? Either way, he was happy that Gabriel wasn’t after anything more demanding than a McDonald's for dinner. A cheeseburger was a cheeseburger, no matter the country. And if push came to shove, he could always just point at the menu and live up to the stupid American stereotype that Lana’s brother liked to saddle him with.
The red light on the phone between the beds was already blinking when he dropped his bag on the bed.
He ignored it in favor of setting his son up with his happy meal at the desk and finding something on the TV mounted to the wall. He needed a shower, like three days ago. He felt like he was carrying around the stench of a thousand economy-class egg and cheese bagels. As much as he enjoyed his freedom, he did miss the perks of being on the board of directors for the family business. At least he didn’t feel like his knees were tucked under his chin in business class.
The shower pressure was rubbish. Sure, he could have just stayed in one of his dad’s properties for free, too. That 2% did a lot of heavy lifting. So did his last name. But Steve didn’t want the staff to tip off his father that Steve was in France, so he was using his own money to foot this bill. It wasn’t that he didn’t have any. But after living on just his Family Video wage in his ‘formative years’, Steve always felt bad about spending more money on things than he needed. Robin said it was stupid and that he should spend his inheritance on whatever the hell he wanted. But right now, all he wanted was to potter around his townhouses and his craft studio during the day and spend his nights with his son and his best friend. Sure, he knew that at some point, he would have to get an actual job. But right now? He was using that money as a buffer while he sorted the buzzing in his mind.
He pulled the fluffy bathrobe around him as he hung his towel up next to the steamed-up mirror, pulled his glasses out of his vanity bag, and shoved them on his face. Clearing the fog from the mirror, he grimaced as his father’s face looked back at him. Steve hated how much he looked like his old man at the same age. Everyone commented on it. The Harrington gene was strong. He was extremely grateful that the Cadieux family genetics were also prevalent. There was no denying that Gabe was Lana’s son.
He definitely had her brains and her confidence. The kid was everything that Steve wished he could have been when he was that age, and that was proof enough to him that he was doing a good job of this parenting thing. Even if it did leave him wanting to pull his hair out most of the time.
The phone rang in the main room, dying off before he even moved to open the door. When he opened it, Gabe was hanging upside down off the end of the bed, phone to his ear. He knew he wasn’t supposed to answer the phone, but the look Gabe was giving Steve let him know his child would act now and ask for forgiveness later, as was his way.
“He’s out of the shower now, Robin.” Gabe rolled over, trying not to get caught in the flexy cord and failing miserably. Steve chuckled as he helped untangle him. He had missed the chaos while his son had been with his mom. The kid would get away with murder over the next few days.
“Go. Finish your lunch,” Steve directed as he waved his hand towards the dissected burger on the desk. “And eat your burger like a normal person, will you?”
“NEVER!” Gabe yelled around a French fry, decidedly the least French thing he’d eaten in weeks, no doubt. Steve had been fighting this losing battle for the last two years, and it wasn’t going to stop any time soon. He couldn't just eat a burger without pulling the things apart and separating the ingredients, and that paled in comparison to what the kid usually did with his fries.
“Sorry about that, Robs. I was in the shower, and mini me is busy creating some sort of crime scene out of the hamburglar. If Ronald McDonald shows up asking questions, you know nothing,” Steve said as he put the phone to his ear, watching as Gabe dipped his fries into his strawberry milkshake, making deliberate eye contact with his dad as he did so. Little shit knew that upset Steve way more than it should, although he would never tell the kid it was because someone he once loved used to do the same thing. Eddie used to get milkshakes in his hair, too, when he did it.
Steve shook that thought from his head. He was already stressed out enough without adding the memories of his biggest mistake to the mix.
“Steve, hey… erm, I dunno how to tell you this. So I’m just gonna spit it out,” Robin said at a mile a minute down the phone. Something she only did when she was really worked up. It wasn’t ever anything good. “Steve. Your dad's dead.”
Steve wasn’t sure he heard her right. It sounded like she’d just told him that his dad was dead. “You what?”
“Your dad. He’s… He’s dead, Steve. Hopper tried to call us at the house, and when we didn’t answer, he figured he would try my work, and they gave him my cell, and then he got my voicemail and got the hotel number. Then he called me, like seven times, but like Hopper knows zero French, so the hotel didn’t know what the hell he was on about, but then he got me and … Your dad, he’s dead, Steve. Dead. like no longer alive… I’m so sorry,” Robin sounded like she was going to ramble more, so Steve cut her off.
“Stop saying dead. You sound like Gabe.” he glanced over at his son, who had tuned into the word dead like a sound-seeking missile. “Why did Hopper call you?”
“'Cause he couldn't get you. I just told you?” Robin said, and Steve could see the eyeroll that accompanied it in his mind's eye. He’d seen it with his real eyes often enough.
“No, you nimrod, why did Hopper ring us? Why not someone from New York? That’s where his stupid new penthouse -”
“He wasn’t in New York. He was in Hawkins,” Robin cut across him, cutting off his own rant that was about to fall into the world, unfiltered. “Steve. Hopper was calling us from home.” She cut across him, talking slower this time, making sure he understood.
“What the fuck was he doing in Hawkins?” Steve snapped, then slapped his hand across his mouth, but it was too late. Gabriel had heard him and was staring at him wide-eyed and full of joy at hearing his dad say a bad word. “Gabe, don't you ever say that word…. But my point stands… What was he doing in Hawkins?”
“I don’t know, babe. Hop identified the body. And…Are you sitting down?” Robin asked gently.
“No? Why should I be sitting?” Steve asked cautiously. He took her advice and sat on the edge of the bed. “Rob, what happened?”
He could hear Robin choosing her words carefully over the line. “He was in a car crash, Hopper said It was pretty bad. Up near the Quarry. They called him in to identify the body. Apparently, it was a difficult job. The car was a write off—went up in flames and your dad was flung out the window…” she trailed off. The line went quiet as they milled it over.
Steve might have hated the man, but he didn’t want him dead.
“Hopper said for a moment he thought it was you.”
“Why would he think that?” Steve asked, Hopper knew fine well Steve had zero intentions of ever going back to Hawkins.
“Hopper recognised the car straight away,” Robin said slowly. “It was your car he was driving.”
“The Beemer?” Steve asked, shocked that his voice was shaking now more than when Robin had broken the news that his dad had died. That car had saved them from the Upside Down; it had saved Eddie when they pulled him from the lab. It had kept him warm and dry when his dad had kicked him out time and time again… and now it was gone. Should he be concerned about the fact that he was more upset about the car than he was about the death of his own father? Probably. But the man was practically a stranger to him. Just a work colleague at most since his mom had died. She was the only reason he had even tried to act like the man was family. He didn’t say anything for a bit, watching as Gabe continued to dunk his fries in his milkshake, not even pretending not to watch his dad right back. The six-year-old showed him more concern than Steve’s own father had shown him his entire life.
Steve was going to have to go back to Hawkins, wasn’t he? He was the next of kin. It was all going to fall on him. He was going to have to bury the man. Stand up and pretend that he was a good Father. Pretend that he cared.
“You want me to come back with you?” Robin asked, reading his mind.
“No, it’s fine. Finish your trip with Laura, nothing's going to get sorted in the next week, just come home when you get back?” He asked, and Steve knew that Robin knew he meant Hawkins; he didn’t have to say it.
“I’ll ring work. Move a few things about for when we get back. Are you sure you can do this alone? Laura won’t mind…”
Steve shook his head, even though he knew Robin couldn’t see him, “I won’t be alone, will I? Gabe will be with me, and I can go visit Hop and Joyce…”
“Wayne?” Robin asked softly.
“Maybe.”
“Are you going to be alright?”
Was he? He wasn’t sure. He was sure he was supposed to be feeling something. Did it make him a bad person if he didn’t?
“Going to have to be, aren't I?”
It had been relatively easy to change flights. Steve did himself the favour of dipping into some of that money his mom had left him and upgrading to business. His knees would thank him later, and if he could lie down, he could at least attempt to catch up on some of the sleep that had evaded him in the last few days. The flight staff were only too happy to make a fuss over Gabriel. He had every bit of charm that Steve had exuded at that age, and he was cute as a button. Of course, the stewardesses had clambered over themselves to make the kid as happy as possible.
By the time they landed in JFK, Gabriel was so full of sugar that jet lag wasn't going to be an issue. It wasn't until they were waiting to board the connecting flight that Gabriel picked up on the change of destination. He had twisted his face as he read the flight board, knowing that normally, the second leg of the journey was to SFO. The large ORD on the screen was definitely not the destination he had been expecting.
"Why are we not going home?" He asked. Steve had been trying to work out how to tell Gabriel about the death of his grandfather since he got the call. It wasn't like the kid had known Steve's dad. He hadn't been in his life at all for the last year since Steve quit the company. And before that, he had been in his life sporadically since Steve's mom died when Gabe was two. He wasn't any more of a grandfather figure than he was a father figure. It was sad how little his passing would affect them at all.
Steve had called Lana after Gabe had fallen asleep. Her advice was that he should just be honest with their son. After all, the kid already had a good idea of what death was, even at his young age. His hyperfixation was nothing short of startling if you didn't know him. Steve felt a little callous just telling him straight out, but he was really struggling with how to word it.
"My dad has died." He said slowly, letting Gabe process his words. "So we have to go to where I grew up, to say goodbye."
Gabe chewed on his bottom lip, tipping his head to the side as he studied Steve's face. Steve knew he was trying to work out what way he was supposed to feel by his father's expression. Steve was used to the unfiltered stare down. He hadn't expected anything else.
"Am I supposed to feel sad?" Gabe asked quietly.
"You feel the way you're supposed to feel," Steve answered, matching his son's volume. "Your Grandfather wasn't a nice man, Gabby. You don’t have to be sad over a man you didn't know."
"But are you sad?" Gabe asked, "He was your dad. I would be sad if it was you." Yet again, Steve was stunned at how grown-up his own child could be, even if he insisted on wearing odd socks some days.
Was he sad? He didn't think so. In shock, still, yes. But sad? Steve was sure he had stopped feeling sad about his father after about the seventh time he cheated on his mom. The only feelings that Steve had thrown his father's way in the fifteen years after that had been anger. Even now, when the man was dead, Steve was still angry at him. It had been his permanent state for so long that it seemed that no other emotion was able to claw its way to the surface. It was fortunate he knew how to control his expression.
"I think, in time, I will be sad." He said honestly to his son as the call to board sounded. "But for now, we have a job to do."
"But not at our home?" Gabe asked as he pulled his backpack on.
"Not right now, sorry. I know you were excited to get back to school and see your friends." Steve said as they walked to the gate hand in hand.
"Can I go see Granny Claudia? She lives where you grew up, right? " Gabe asked excitedly as he showed his passport to the man on the desk.
"I'm sure that can be arranged," Steve said with a sinking feeling in his stomach. He had been trying not to think about who and what was waiting for him when they finally got to Hawkins. He had no idea what he was coming back to. He hoped that his dad hadn't changed the locks to the family home.
The flight from JFK to Indy wasn't a long one. In no time at all, they were back on the ground. Gabriel's sugar fix was flagging, but Steve's nerves wouldn't let him get any sleep even if he wanted to try.
As soon as they were on the interstate in the rental car, Gabe fell asleep. Curled up in the back seat like a cat, head bundled up on his backpack and glasses askew. Every few miles, Steve checked on him in the rear-view mirror and felt that violent anxiety settle in his stomach. It didn't distract him from the heavy weight of the old house key burning a hole in his pocket. He had never taken the Loch Nora house key off his key chain, and he had never been sure why. It wasn't home. He didn't have a connection to the empty halls of his childhood. Yet, he had never prized apart the metal ring and pulled it from the tiny baseball bat key-ring his kids had given him for his eighteenth birthday.
After The End of the World, there was even less traffic through Hawkins. He doubted that the old motels on the outskirts of the town were still in business, and he hadn't really gotten a chance to call ahead to find out, what with the connection in JFK being a little over two hours and having a child that really missed the commercialization of the American way. The time in the airport had been spent buying grape-flavoured everything and as many comic books as he could find in the terminal.
The two-hour drive flew by, and soon Steve's hunches were proven right. The Motel that Wayne had hauled up in till the government sorted out his new home was boarded up. The neon looked like it hadn't been lit in years.
Slowing down to the speed limit woke up Gabriel. Rubbing his eyes, he stared intently as he stuck his head between the front seats to see what was ahead. He had woken up just in time to see the Welcome to Hawkins sign. The sign had been cleaned in the time Steve had been away, but he could still see where Corroded Coffin had taken black paint and slapped the word Hell over the town's name.
The emotions that Steve had been biting back surfaced as he passed the sign. The few scraps of black paint reminded him of the thing he wanted so hard to forget, but was never far from his thoughts. Eddie. He knew the real reason he hadn't wanted to come back to Hawkins. But as far as he knew, Eddie was still out there in the big bad world, trying to make it big. Living a dream that Steve should have been a part of.
"You alright, dad?" Gabe asked. Steve hadn't been quick enough to stop the tears from biting at his eyes. Of course, Gabe spotted it. Nothing got past him.
"Yeah, I'm fine." He lied. A little white lie to stop further questions didn't make him a terrible father. He glanced at his son, well aware that Gabe wouldn't take I'm Fine as an answer. But whatever his son saw in his face seemed to make the kid think better about asking anything more. Steve had to admit that sometimes his offspring managed to surprise him.
Gabriel said nothing for a little while, too busy watching the greenery slowly turn into houses as he perched between the front two seats.
"Are we going to the house?" Gabe asked as they passed through the center of town. But Steve wasn't really paying attention. A strange sort of nostalgia had struck him. Hawkins looked the same… but also so very different.
He had expected to come home and find the place run down and empty. He had always thought it was a little strange that Claudia and the Hoppers hadn't moved away after everything that had happened. Escape a dying town.
But Hawkins? It was thriving. The main strip was busy. Old stores that he remembered being vacant for the longest time popped with color and customers. A coffee shop sat where the old post office once was. A woman in sports clothes sipped something. A group of women with prams gossiped over drinks, enjoying the summer sun. The green outside the library was dotted with families having picnics, making the most of the last day before school started.
"I have something I have to do first, before we head …" He paused. He had been about to say home. A word he hadn’t attributed to his parents' house in a very long time. "To get some groceries for the house." He said Course-correcting. He couldn’t let himself start thinking that way. Couldn't let Hawkins get its claws back into him. Not if he wanted to get out of the place in one piece.
He turned towards the road out of town, up past the turn off for what used to be Forest Hills. The axis of the apocalypse was ever a heavyweight hidden by long-forgotten trees, looming over them as they passed.
The funeral home was the first stop. The sooner he got it out of the way. The sooner he could get on with the rest of his life.
Strangely enough, Eddie had not found answers to the universe at the bottom of a bottle of whiskey. He did find a headache from hell and the hangover to match it, however. But as the head undertaker, a day off was more of a passing fancy than an actual possibility. It wasn't like he had anything productive to do with his spare time anyway. Playing video games and listening to music only took up so much of a man's time. So he had sent Harry home for a well-earned day off and to spend time with Gareth’s son Lewis, who had been visiting for the weekend.
Eddie didn't mind pottering around the funeral home. There was always something that needed to be done. Right now, that something was cleaning the casket room; a job that nobody else seemed to like, but Eddie found a comfortable solace in. Satin to shake out and wood to polish. It was repetitive in a soothing way. He could tune out the world with its monotonous routine.
He was just placing the lining back in the cherry wood casket when he realised he wasn't alone.
Two big brown eyes, surrounded by glasses and a mop of curly hair, peeked at him around the door frame at the other end of the room.
Now, Eddie was used to seeing kids in the funeral home. He even had a kids' room, dedicated to keeping the little angels busy while the grown-ups got on with the nitty-gritty of a funeral that little ears didn't need to worry about. He just wasn't expecting to see anyone, let alone a small unaccompanied child, when he was pretty sure he was all alone.
"Hello?" The little guy asked. Like he was sure he wasn't supposed to be there, but was going to pretend like he didn't know that.
"Hello, yourself. Where did you come from?" Eddie asked, pulling himself to his full height and turning towards his little intruder. He hadn't heard him come in. The buzzer hadn't sounded. But it did now as someone taller came through the front door and activated the alarm.
"France?" Again, he answered like a question, and something about the way he stood in the doorway seemed hauntingly familiar.
"Bit of a long walk, that," Eddie said cautiously, walking towards the kid. Cause sure, Vecna was long dead, but he still wasn't sure that this little kid wasn't a figment of his imagination. Because the eye roll at his terrible joke was far too much like…
"Gabriel Harrington-Cadieux! What have I said about running away from myself?"
… Steve.
That thing about Vecna? Maybe this was the guy's second coming. Because there was no way in hell Steve Harrington was standing in the reception room when Eddie knew his dead body was on a slab in his deep freeze.
"It's not running away if you know where I am, Dad. " The child who was apparently called Gabriel said as he turned to Steve and scolded him with hands on his hips in such a Steve move that Eddie was convinced only his mind could have come up with it.
He was about to die. Vecna was back to finish what he had royally fucked up the first two times. Guy could have at least waited until Eddie didn't have the mother of all hangovers. Dick.
Steve was staring at him now. Surely, if this was one of Vecna's mind fucks, Steve should be trying to sweet-talk his way back into his life while systematically pulling his heart apart again.
But he wasn't. He stood slack jaw whilst he seemed to be fighting his internal demons. Fucking sucked that Eddie knew what that looked like in real time.
Again, not a great indicator that he wasn't about to get twisted into a human pretzel, especially when Eddie had spent the best part of Friday night embalming the guy that was currently mouth agape, catching flies. Maybe the fact that Steve looked just as confused was a good sign. But all the same…
He walked past the apparent specter of Steve and to the speaker system in the main reception room. He kept his eyes on Steve as he fished out the Reloaded album and put the disc on the CD player. Pushing play, he waited for the world to fade and spin back to that vast blackness and then nothing that felt like falling. But the music was loud through the speakers, not distant and tinny like it would have been in one of Vecna's trances. This was real. And now Steve looked pissed as well as confused. It somehow still worked for him.
"Really. I show up and you think it's Vecna?" Steve asked, one eyebrow practically raised right off his forehead with a glare that could have put one of Nancy's to shame. "Got anything for me there? 'Cause you know, last time I checked, you were playing rock star in Chicago."
"Last time I checked, you were in my deep freeze." Eddie shot back, but dutifully flipped through the CDs kept at the side of the speaker system. Looking for something that could plausibly be used to lure Steve back from the grips of Vecna in a pinch. Steve's kid had slid over to his side, looking at the tattoos on his arms with interest as Eddie tried his best not to let it show how much he was freaking out as he slid Broken by Nine Inch Nails into the player.
"Oh, Dad loves this song, don't you, Dad?" Gabriel said as a smile cracked on his little face at the first chords of Wish filled the room. Eddie shouldn't have known that Steve liked this song. It came out long after he and Steve had stopped speaking. Yet, Eddie had always known Steve. The real Steve. The one who bitched and moaned about Eddie's loud music. But secretly liked it. He may have acted like Tiffany was the height of his musical tastes around the kids, but Steve had a much cooler music collection than Eddie would have given him credit for.
Steve stepped forward and placed a hand on his son's shoulder. Eddie permitted himself to look. To take in the man he thought he was destined never to see again.
Steve looked tired. The dark shadows under his eyes were only magnified by his glasses. Eddie hated to admit it, but even looking like he hadn't slept in several weeks, the glasses were doing something for him. Eddie could feel his heart jackrabbiting in his chest just from Steve holding his gaze from across the room. He still looked as handsome as ever. The scars on his face had faded a lot cleaner over time than Eddie’s. His own still hurt sometimes when he smiled, or when the weather got unreasonably cold.
Steve had always been good-looking, but as he got older, he got handsome. Handsome Steve was Eddie’s downfall because handsome Steve was also the reformed jock who had saved his life and somehow, beyond all plausible reason, had become his friend. One of his best friends. The man he had fallen for slowly over time, without even realizing it. The man who had broken him more than anyone else.
That was the thought that made him look away.
"So, no mind wizards then?" Steve asked as Eddie turned the sound system down.
"It would appear not," Eddie answered, still not convinced he wasn't having some sort of breakdown, even if it wasn't Vecna's doing. He had absolutely no idea what to say next. He had been so sure that it was Steve he had embalmed. The paperwork, Steve's car, everything pointed to the man that was quite clearly alive and standing in front of him being the dead body he had in the freezer.
Steve seemed to have fewer qualms about addressing the subject than Eddie did.
"My dad. Hopper said you had his body here?" Steve asked. He seemed happy to talk about the subject even with his son in the room. Something that Eddie couldn't help but think of as strange, given the lengths Steve had gone to protect the party from the worst bits of the upside down.
"Your dad?"
"Yeah, Steven Harrington. You know my dad, Eddie. You both hated each other on principle. " Steve said, the weariness ebbing into each word as it came from his mouth. Between the two of them, Gabriel was grinning like mad.
"You never told me you knew someone who works with dead people, Dad. That is so cool." Gabriel said as he looked Eddie up and down with a look of amazement on his face.
"I didn't know Eddie worked here, Gabe," Steve said, voice straining as Steve tried to hide whatever emotion was trying to break through. Eddie couldn't spare the mental capacity to try and work out how Steve was feeling right now, not when he couldn't get his head around…
"But isn’t you're dad's name Richard?" He asked, really wishing the whiskey hangover would go away.
"He's always used his middle name outside of work… hold on. You said before you had me in the freezer." A look of realization crossed Steve's face. "Did you think it was me who had-"
"It was your name. Your car… the moles on the neck! They matched…" Eddie tapped the side of his neck, watching as Steve reached up and touched the two moles Eddie was talking about. The ring of scars around Steve's neck was still visible, though just as faded as the one on his cheek. Why hadn't Eddie thought to check for that? He would have saved himself the last three days' worth of emotional turmoil. Although it didn't feel like he was out of the woods in that department just yet.
"Yeah, well, surprise… It's my old man. I hope you're not too disappointed."Steve said, voice full of that self-deprecation that Eddie had always hated hearing him use. It made Eddie feel sick to his stomach that Steve still had that pull over him. He bit back the urge to tell the other man to shut up.
"You alright?" He asked instead.
"As alright as I can be in the circumstances," Steve said as he visibly deflated. "I would have been here sooner, but we were in France when we got the call."
"France, huh?" Eddie asked. The kid hadn't been lying. No wonder Steve looked exhausted. The furthest Eddie had ever been was the Canadian border. And just that had worn him out, never mind traveling several time zones with a kid in tow.
"Picking up Gabriel. He's my son if you hadn't already guessed." Steve punctuated with a sigh.
"And he was in France? What am I saying? Of course, he was in France. Where else would he be?" Eddie didn't know where the anger was seeping out from. What did it matter to him if Steve and his stupidly rich family took holidays over the ocean? It had nothing to do with him.
"His mom is French. He was visiting family." Steve said, and Eddie could hear the hurt in his voice because Eddie had alluded to the age-old Harrington mythos that King Steve spent every summer in Europe, living off the family's riches. Even if Eddie knew the reality was a lot different.
"I didn't want to be in France, Dad," Gabriel cut in, "Mom wouldn't even let me go see the cata… the cat-o-coombs…you know…all the bones in Paris, and she's normally the cool one," Gabriel said through a muffled yawn. "But Eddie being you're friend sort of makes you cooler."
"He has strong opinions on a lot of things." Steve sighed as he watched Gabriel wander towards the sales room again, eyes fixed on the casket that Eddie had been cleaning when he had walked in.
"I would assume you blame Dustin for that?" Eddie asked.
"I mean … yeah." Steve shrugged as the two of them followed Gabriel, "His current 'curiosity journey' is death. So for once in his life, my waste of space dad did something at the right time, I guess. Can I see him?" Steve asked, dropping his voice lower so his son couldn't hear him.
Eddie just nodded. He had expected the next of kin to want to see the body. He just hadn't expected it to be Steve or for him to sound so blasé about it.
"Gabriel, do you want to go hang out and play on the Nintendo? Or we have a PlayStation." Eddie asked, walking over and opening the door at the end of the room.
"You got any zombie games?" Gabriel asked as his face lit up. "I love zombie games, but Dad says they are too violent to play when I'm only six. But I know it's not real because monsters aren't real."
Eddie met Steve’s eye over the top of the kid's head. They both knew that was far from their reality. "Yeah, I have all sorts. Knock yourself out. I need to borrow your dad for a few moments, alright?" He turned to Steve. "It's alright. I'll lock the main door. He won't be able to get out."
"I'm more concerned with what he could get up to left unattended around all the coffins. You underestimate how obsessed he is with death." Steve said, stepping in time with Eddie as he walked to the kids' room, Gabriel on his tail.
"The worst thing he can do is topple a casket, and to be fair, I've done it myself enough times. But hey, Gareth shouldn't have told me they were comfortable to sleep in. Then I wouldn't have made one into a bed."
Steve's eyebrows shot up, the worry lines popping in his forehead making him look like a Klingon.
"I'm joking, Steve, I don't sleep in a coffin. But they are pretty comfortable, for an unpadded lump of wood."
"I just wouldn't put it past you. After all, you are you…"
"Touché." Eddie grinned. "I mean, my reputation used to be a little crazy. People like, respect me now. I'm a fine upstanding member of the community. I get invited to the town council. How the tables have turned and all that jazz."
Steve looked like he was about to say something deep and meaningful, but Gabriel seemed to have other ideas.
"Dad. Can I please play Resident Evil?" Gabriel yelled as he ran up to the TV in the corner and went through the games. Eddie was proud of his child-friendly space. Both he and Gareth had spent a long time trying to think of ways to distract grieving children, at least to the point that they could escape for just a little while. Gabriel, however, did not seem to be grieving. That alone gave Eddie the impression that in the last ten years, Richard Harrington had not changed his ways. Steve didn't look all that phased either. Just tired.
"Okay, fine. But if you have zombie nightmares. I'm going to tell you I told you so, and I know you hate that." Steve said in that sing-song voice he used to drive Dustin insane.
Gabriel let out a chirp of excitement and rushed to load the disk. Eddie had always been weak to Steve's parental instincts when it came to Dustin and the other kids. It was a million times worse now that Steve was here with his own kid. Eddie was no less affected by the look of adoration on Steve's face now than he had been when Dustin and the gang graduated.
Eddie made sure the door was locked and the buzzer was activated. Because as enthusiastic about death as mini Steve was, he didn't need to see this. If Eddie had his way, Steve wouldn't get to see it either.
But Steve had asked. So Eddie did his job.
"I'm warning you now. It's almost as bad as some of the shit we saw in the Upside Down." Eddie said as he led Steve over to the cold room. "Hopper struggled to identify the body. I was going to call for a closed casket. I still would, but it's your call."
"And you thought it was me?" Steve asked as Eddie pulled the gurney out of the freezer.
"I had to look for identifying marks… when I saw your name… I…" Eddie trailed off; he couldn't find the words to explain that his entire world had crashed around him when he had seen the police discharge papers. The whiskey had helped, but the spiral of despair had also clouded his judgment. He couldn't be certain what he had done when he was inebriated.
But he knew he was still staring at the corners report long into the early hours, filling in the missing moles and freckles that he knew were missing from the report.
The papers were still on the gurney, tucked into the filing pocket near Steve's dad's head. Eddie paused with his hand on the shroud. "Are you sure you want to see this? Last chance." He asked.
"Yeah, I need to do this," Steve said, "Can't be any worse than seeing you with your insides on the outside." Steve winced at the same time as Eddie; it was uncalled for, but unfortunately true.
Eddie moved the papers to the side before pulling the shroud from Richard's body. Knowing it wasn't Steve helped; he wasn't sure he would have been able to do this if it were Steve on the table and Richard was asking to see the body.
"I see why you had issues now," Steve said quietly. "Am I allowed to touch him?" He asked after a moment.
"Yes, of course you are. Do you want me to-" Eddie went to excuse himself from the room, let Steve have some time with his father.
"No, stay … please?" Steve asked, Eyes not leaving the damaged remains on the table. "Just…Yeah… I need someone here."
"Whatever you need, Stevie." The nickname slipped out without permission from Eddie's brain, but Steve either didn't hear it or chose to ignore it.
Eddie watched him quietly. He had seen many people with the bodies of their loved ones, and no two people were ever the same. The ones overcome with grief were the easiest to deal with. Grief was easy to understand, something that the people of Hawkins were friends with in a backhanded way. It was hard to live through the end of the world and not become familiar with it.
But Steve? He had that blank expression that Eddie hated more than any other when it came to the people left behind. Eddie had seen firsthand how toxic the relationship between Steve and his father had been. Knew that Steve loved his dad, but that didn't mean he had liked the man. He could see the same confusion on how to feel etched on Steve's face as Eddie himself had struggled with when his father, Al, had died. The pain at their passing, fighting the feeling of relief at the same time. Steve stroked his father's hair away from his forehead, the carful swoop that Eddie had crafted last night now pushed back, and a more business-like look. Less Steve, more Richard.
"Dad has a scar on his hairline," Steve said, running his finger over the scar in question. "He got it, jumping into the quarry the year he left school. Every time he found out that Tommy and me had been messing around there, he would tell me about it when he was yelling at us for being stupid." Steve retracted his hand and pulled the shroud back across the body. "Mom used to say it was the blow that knocked the fun out of him. I'm surprised you missed that?" Steve said, reaching out to look at the coroner's report on the table, he scanned the page, then burst out laughing.
"I mean… Should I be flattered ?"
"What?" Eddie asked, stepping forward to look at the paperwork in Steve's hands. Evidently, last night with his whiskey-fueled wisdom, Eddie had found it within himself to annotate his observations. If Harry were the one to have the paperwork, he would have been out of a job.
Steve knew his handwriting; he had no plausible deniability for any of his additions to the coroner's report.
"I guess I took the news of your death badly, okay? In my defence, I was supposed to destroy that." He said as Steve stepped closer, pointing to the notes around the crotch area of the diagram.
"Longus Dongus hu?" He asked, barely able to keep the amusement out of his voice.
"Was I wrong?" Eddie defended himself, "I just feel these things should be more accurate, maybe a little more truthful, that's all."
"You spent a lot of time looking at my junk, Munson?" Steve asked, as if he didn't know fine well that Eddie had seen him naked more than once. Even if only at the losing end of a bet and not in all the sordid ways he would have liked. Still, Eddie felt the heat rising in his cheeks at the implications.
"Don't let it go to your head, Harrington," Eddie grumbled, leaving Steve to look at the drawings that Eddie had etched all over the diagrams as he pushed his dad back into the deep freeze.
When he returned, Steve was running a thumb over the sketch of himself that Eddie had doodled in the corner. It should be embarrassing that Eddie could remember so many details. But he was the first to admit that he had never truly moved on from the man who seemed to be switching his emotions at the flip of a coin. The momentary respite from his melancholy disposition hadn't lasted long. That vacant sadness was back behind Steve's eyes. Eddie wanted to do something about it, but knew he no longer had a place in Steve's life. He had been relegated to a bystander. It was probably safer to keep it that way. He didn't miss the way Steve slid the coroner's report into his jacket pocket, but chose not to mention it. If Steve could find some comfort in his ramblings, Eddie was man enough to let him have it.
"You stopping at the house?" Eddie asked, more than aware that the town didn't have much in the way of accommodation these days.
"Hopefully, if Dad didn't change the locks." Steve looked tired; he also looked like he needed a hug. Eddie hadn't seen him this bad since they wouldn't let him in to see Robin at the hospital. He wanted to step forward, offer comfort, but decency and responsibility stopped him. Teenage him would have been disgusted.
"Listen," Eddie grabbed his business card and handed it to Steve. Tried not to react when his fingers brushed Steve's palm. "Call me if you can't get in, I've got a spare room. So has Wayne. Don't go being a martyr over it."
For the first time since he walked into the building, Steve looked like he was going to cry.
"We don't need to do anything else today. Go home, Steve. You aren't any good to anyone if you're too tired to function. Call me tomorrow, we can go over things once you have had some sleep."
It was still unnerving to have Steve's unwavering attention on you. His gaze was just as intense as ever, even if his hazel eyes looked bloodshot and sore after being awake for god knows how many hours.
"Thanks, Eddie," Steve said
"Anything for you, Steve," He answered. It wasn't a shock to feel like he meant it.
Chapter Text
Chapter 3
The Loch Nora house looked the same as it ever had. The architecture was now about a decade out of fashion. His mother would have hated that. The house had been her pride and joy. A show of the wealth that she and his father had accumulated over the years.
Towards the end, before he left Hawkins for good, Steve had started to see it as a home. But that had nothing to do with the blood relatives that occasionally darkened the halls and everything to do with Dustin and his merry band of reprobates that had taken it upon themselves to make sure that they took every opportunity to make use of the sprawling space.
His painful memories had been replaced with movie nights and late-night heart-to-hearts as the kids came to him with their problems, problems he sometimes even had solutions to. Much to Mike's despair. Having a card-carrying lesbian for a best friend was apparently all Mike needed for Steve to be his go-to for the fallout when Mike finally worked out how stupidly ass over tit Will was for him. That had been a strange and unusual conversation. Sat on the front steps of the house where Steve now stood with his son. It was the longest he and Mike had ever spoken, probably still the longest they had ever spoken in all honesty.
It was the first time anyone asked him straight out what was going on with him and Eddie. It wouldn't be the last.
At the time, Steve had denied everything. He was still so confused about the way he felt. He couldn't find it in himself to be honest with Mike, of all people, about the fact that he was falling in love with one of his best friends.
Not when Eddie hadn’t told him about himself yet. He would come out to him with time, but back then? Bisexual was a word that didn't quite belong, even in the queer community. Hell, it was still scorned now if you were in the wrong kind of circles. And Steve and Eddie? They grew up in the middle of nowhere, Indiana. Steve hadn't even known it was an option until one fateful night when they visited San Francisco to visit Robin, and a girl hit on both Steve and Robin, much to Eddie's surprise.
If he had been honest then, when he had learned there was a word to describe the way he felt, would he and Eddie be together now? His heart had most certainly stopped yearning for Eddie if the frantic way it had tried to punch its way out of his chest at the funeral home was any indication.
Gabriel should have been everything he ever wanted. But now that he had seen Eddie again, stupid ideas had started forming in his sleep-deprived mind. Ideas like maybe he had made the wrong choice. Maybe he should have gone with Eddie when he asked?
But that was the thing, wasn't it? If he had followed Eddie to Chicago all those years ago, Gabriel wouldn't exist. His life right now was a mess. A confusion of emotions and regrets. But he never once regretted this version of himself, who was fishing his keys out from his back pocket in the blind hope that his dad hadn't changed the locks.
He hadn't.
The house looked almost identical to the last time Steve had set foot in the place. Still as cold and sterile as he had left it at his mother's request.
His father had obviously been staying at the house, so there was food in the fridge, thankfully. Steve couldn't face grocery shopping. He wanted his bed, and after the Eddie bomb that had been dropped on him, he knew he couldn't deal with such trivial things as going to the grocery store.
At least Lana’s mother was organised enough to have sent her grandson home with clean clothes in his suitcase. Steve corralled Gabe up the stairs towards his old bedroom. Gabe complained every step of the way, especially when he spotted the pool out the window at the top of the stairs. Even more so when Steve informed him that he had to have a bath and head to bed after he had made the peanut butter and jelly sandwich from the grade A single man's food slop that Steve's dad had filled the fridge with. Even the much-awaited awful American foods failed to put a smile on Gabriel’s face, the jet lag making him grumpier by the second.
"Will you sleep in here with me tonight, Dad?" He asked as Steve tucked him in, having found some bedding eventually in one of his old closets. His room was largely as he had left it. Nobody had probably been in it since he left in '91.
"I will, just as soon as I do a few things around the house, alright?"
"And tomorrow can we go in the pool?"
"If you behave."
"I always behave. Can we invite Eddie?"
"I'm sure Eddie has work."
"Can we go see Eddie at work?"
"I think Eddie's work isn't exactly suitable for you to be hanging around Gabe." Gabriel gave out a frustrated snort, passing Steve his glasses to put on the side table.
"Eddie's work had coffins, Dad. Do you think he has dead bodies? Do you think he will let me see a dead body?"
"There is no chance you are seeing a dead body. Do not ask Eddie to show you a dead body."
"Will I see Grandad?"
"No. You won't see Grandad."
"Did you see Grandad?"
"Yes, I saw him."
"Then why can't I?"
"Because you are six years old. And as much as you think you want to see a dead body, you absolutely do not. End of discussion." Steve said, rubbing at his temple. He was starting to get a headache.
"I bet Eddie would let me," Gabriel grumbled into his pillow as he shoved himself face-first into the fabric. Knowing Eddie, he probably would. But Steve had to draw the line on this obsession with death somewhere.
"Gabriel," Steve sighed. "We have to go back tomorrow to see Eddie about Grandad's funeral. Please, for my sanity, do not ask Eddie if you can see a dead body."
Gabe didn't answer for a moment, obviously thinking up some retort. His kid was nothing if not an endless well of questions. "Can I ask him to sit in a coffin?" He asked, just the smallest hint of a smirk in his mumbled voice.
"What?" Steve asked as Gabriel rolled his head to the side to squint at him in the dim light of the setting sun.
"Jack Skellington sleeps in a coffin. Do you think Eddie does? Is Eddie a vampire? Maybe all people who work with dead people are Vampires-"
"Right… time for sleep. No more questions. Under the covers."
"But Dad!"Gabriel complained as Steve got to his feet and headed to the curtains, pulling them closed with a yank. It was only eight thirty, but it was way past Gabe's bedtime back in France. If he didn't get to sleep soon, he would be almost impossible to deal with in the morning, and Steve had too much to organise and only one set of hands to do it with. He should have asked Robin to help. At least that way, he could have handed Gabe over to someone else for a few hours while he got on with the arduous task of informing everyone and setting all the legal things in place.
"Leave the light on?" Gabe asked. Steve flicked on the lamp before walking over to kiss his son goodnight. He looked lost in the double bed. Small for his age. But Steve had been at that age, too. It wasn't till his teens that he had shot up like a beanstalk. "Dad?"
"Yeah?"
"This wallpaper is awful," Gabe said, yawning and curling his Jack Skellington doll closer to his chest.
"Yeah, I know, bud. Now get some sleep."
Steve stood outside the room for a few minutes while he waited for Gabriel to fall asleep. He kept the door ajar as he watched him fall under, then gently pulled it closed. Then he froze. Not sure what to do with himself.
It was still too early for him to go to bed, even if he was tired to the core. Yet the idea of doing anything as taxing as watching TV was far too much for him to contemplate. Maybe he could call Robin? He could probably do with a moral building pep talk right now. But it was past midnight back in France. He didn't want to wake Robin up or interrupt anything else, for that matter.
The very last thing he had expected when he walked into the funeral home today was to see his proverbial one that got away.
He had come to terms with the fact that the next time he saw Eddie was probably going to be on some massive billboard, or on MTV, scars and tattoos out for the world to see. But not for Steve. Steve had no right to look, no right to even think about Eddie. Steve had walked away from him. His own bed made with remorse and pillowed with regret.
But to see him now? In the town where they both swore they would never end up?
It had thrown him more than anything else that had happened in the last few days.
Eddie looked good. Looked a million times better than he had the last time Steve had seen him. But even then, he had looked beautiful.
Eddie was the only person Steve knew who could make doe eyes and a drowned rat look work. Even as rain drenched him to the bone as he pleaded for Steve to come with him. 'Just get in the car, Stevie, there's nothing for us here. Please, Steve, I need you, I want you, I can't have you here. Not really, not the way I want… you want...' Yes, Eddie had been running away again. But he was also running towards something, too. A future where Steve could be more than just his friend. Away from a town that would always see them as a murderous freak and a retired jock king, even if they had saved the stupid town and everyone in it. But when Steve had to face that decision head-on? Look into the eyes of the man he loved and make a choice? It had been Steve who had run away.
And now Eddie was here. Back where they had started, and so was Steve.
Temporarily. He had to remind himself. This was temporary.
Just while he figured out what the hell he was going to do with the house, and while he gave his father the send-off he probably didn't deserve.
But Eddie had looked good. Aged like a fine wine, his mother would have said. Even if Steve had always associated Eddie with whisky. Once you got past the burn and the bitter shock, the smoothness was your reward. It was an acquired taste, but it was one that he liked. But when it came to Eddie, Steve had let the bottle slip from his hand before he got a sip, and had been picking the broken shards out of his life for the last ten years.
Although it wasn't lost on him that Eddie had known exactly the right song to play when it came to calming his racing mind. Time may have changed them both, but even in his absence, Eddie had obviously been thinking of him. Had he heard that song at some point on the radio and decided that it would be a song that Steve would love? That seemed like a very Eddie thing to do.
Maybe it was a sign that the universe was giving them a second chance?
But he was getting ahead of himself again. It had been ten years. Who knew what was going on with Eddie now? Certainly not Steve. It was strange that Dustin, at the very least, hadn't told him that Eddie was back in Hawkins. But in Dustin’s defence, they did avoid the topic of Eddie as much as possible. If only to stop Steve from sulking for the entirety of Dustin's visits.
He didn't know how long he stared at the abstract bird painting on the wall before he realised it had probably been too long to be standing doing nothing in a hallway. He should really get changed and ready for bed himself; he was bone-deep tired, and the headache was growing by the minute. But he knew he had to make a start on sorting out his dad's things. Even if he really didn't want to.
He knew the combination to the safe. If his dad was going to have any requests for his funeral, it would probably be locked away with his other worldly possessions. So with that in mind, Steve made his way to the office, a room that he very rarely entered even when his parents hadn’t returned for months at a time.
It was evident as soon as he walked in that his dad had been living in this room for the time he had been missing. Blankets were splayed across the sofa in a way that indicated that Richard Harrington had been sleeping there. Even if it looked like it hadn’t been restful sleep. The pillow was on the floor, almost a foot away from the rest of the bedding. A suitcase sat near the door, the contents spilling from it. This wasn't what Steve had learned to expect from his father. Nothing short of a perfect presentation was allowed at any time. The world was always watching. Always judging.
"Your first impression is what people take with them for the rest of their life." His dad had said. Drilled into him from a young age. That image, his dad's image, of perfect. It had been hard to shake. Maybe that was why he was so angry with him all the time. Twenty-four, unmarried, and a bastard child to boot. Even when he had tried to be the perfect son his father wanted, he had failed miserably.
Like some sort of Bond villain, the safe was in the wall. It hid behind a painting of a vase of violets and lavender. His mother's favourite. It stood out like a sore thumb next to all the framed awards and pictures of his father shaking hands with the rich and famous. His dad's presence was everywhere. S.R.H sat monochrome and fanciful on every surface. Steve's father hadn't seen fit to give his son a middle name. The family tradition of passing down the name Steven was to mold Steve in his Father's image. No room for individuality.
Steve hated that wall. Staring at it as he was growing up, unblinking, trying to hold back tears as his father lectured him about his downfalls time and time again. It all flashed back to him like it was only yesterday, even if he hadn't spoken to his father in person in over a year.
His father had called him a soft touch. Steve had said he was reasonable. A word that wasn't in Dick Harrington’s vocabulary and definitely wasn't something that Harrington resorts and spas had built into their motto.
Maybe that was why Steve had worked better with Lana’s brother Maurice. He was an arrogant asshole, but he wasn't unfair. He gave a shit about the people in the company. Knew the best way to get the most out of the staff that reported to them and refused to bend to Dick Harrington and his American work ethic. "No point working yourself to death and forgetting to live, Steve. You Americans don't understand that you do not live to work," was what Maurice would say whenever Steve found him propping up the hotel bar.
Steve had listened. Maybe a little too well. His father had not, and now he was dead on a slab. All his preening and perfection had left him desolate and alienated. Steve couldn't think of anyone but business partners to inform about the upcoming funeral.
Eddie had asked about numbers, and Steve couldn't even fill one row of chairs off the top of his head. His Grandfather might come over from Vegas if Steve could drag him away from his life of luxury to attend the final farewell for his son. Though Steve could count on one hand the number of times he had seen his Grandfather, Steven, in his life.
Steven Arthur Harrington had never understood why his son had moved to the back end of nowhere with his newlywed. And to be fair, neither had Steve. But his grandfather had barely been part of his early life, and Steve couldn't say he minded at all. It would make life a lot easier for him if the last remaining parts of his family chose to stay as far away now as they had for the last thirty years of his life. He was pretty sure that he had an uncle on his Dad's side, not that he had ever met the man.
His mind was racing with all his previous run-ins with the Harrington clan. There were a few. Growing up, if it was a family function, it had always been his mother's side of the family. But even that had ended eventually when Steve was old enough not to be deemed a cute and chubby baby anymore. The novelty seemed to have worn off.
The list of people he had to contact was not long at all.
The other perk of his father's office was the liquor selection. Not that Steve had ever had the balls to touch the thing. Malt whisky from around the world lined the mirrored wall behind the drinks cabinet. Expensive liquors from every country the Harrington name had touched sat underneath, and one lonely crystal tumbler sat forgotten on the last shelf. Its partner sat abandoned at his father's desk. The bottle of Johnnie Walker Blue label sat half drunk next to it. The remnants of his dad's last sip still stuck to the bottom of the finger-marked glass.
Steve grabbed the tumbler that was gathering dust on the cabinet and took a seat in the big leather chair his father had made his own. He would never have dared do this when his father was alive. Somehow, the man would have just known that Steve was disrespecting him. It would have been an even bigger sign of disrespect for Steve to have helped himself to a drink from his father's $200 whisky, but that was what he did now, placing the bottle back down on a desk that was as devoid of personality as his father had been.
The whisky burned as he knocked it back. A shot of courage before he placed the glass back on the desk and swung the chair around to open the safe behind the fake declaration of adoration his father kept on the wall.
The combination was the day his father officially joined the family company. Not Steve's birthday, not his mom's. The day that his father had joined the corporate grind was the day he chose to remember as the code to his secrets. Steve tried not to be bitter about it as he turned the dial and popped the safe open.
Inside was a stack of paperwork, important documents, his father's passport, and an old brown box that looked out of place with all the other official-looking documents shoved into the cavity of the wall. Steve pulled it all out and spread the contents across the desk, making sure not to bump the Johnnie Walker off the surface. He was sure he was going to need some more courage at some point, and the last glass was starting to reach the parts of his brain that hadn't shut up for the last three days. The part that kept telling him he was supposed to be upset about all this.
The answer to why his father was back in Hawkins was answered with the first file Steve opened. He had sold the house, and new buyers were to be in by the end of August. Steve didn't know how to feel about it. On one hand, it was one less thing for him to worry about. On the other hand, it was still his childhood home. He did, despite the world trying its damn hardest, have a few good memories of the place.
The second tumbler of whiskey, he drank more slowly, staring down at his father's passport photo. It really was remarkable how much he and his dad looked alike. There was no denying the lineage; the smattering of moles that Eddie had used to mistakenly identify him was just visible on the page. Was it inevitable that he was going to turn into the man in that photo? Was Steve destined to end up alone? Despite everything, was he still going to turn into the man he couldn't stand?
He shook the idea from his head and got back to the task at hand.
The next file was embossed with the family solicitor's logo. Steve finished the second glass of whiskey and topped himself up before opening the heavy black document. It was his father's will and final wishes. Almost everything had been left to Gabriel under the supervision of Steve. At least until his twenty-first birthday, when he would inherit his grandfather's share of Harrington Resorts. Steve had been left his car, an additional two percent in the business, and any property that remained in his father's name. It all seemed pretty straightforward; no doubt the lawyers and solicitors would be able to testify to the validity of it all.
The only thing Steve didn't understand was the large financial payout to someone called Ethan Rhodes. Steve had no idea who it was. Not that his father told him much about his life outside of work. Hopefully, the Lawyers would be able to find this mystery benefactor. Steve was just glad that his dad had left a step-by-step list about what he wanted done at his funeral and that he had made changes to his will after Steve's mom had died. It would be a lot easier on him to sort this way.
The next few files were also in solicitor envelopes. House deeds, car papers, copies of the family insurance documents, and various bank account details that probably held even more of Steve's dad's money. Technically, Gabriel’s now, Steve supposed.
Soon, the whiskey needed refilling, and all that was left was the unmarked brown box.
Maybe his dad had a gun, and Steve just didn't know about it? If so, it would have been handy back in the 80s when he had to look hell in the face with only his trusty baseball bat. ( he should probably move that out of his old closet in case Gabe found it.)
It wasn't a gun.
A gun would have been in keeping with the man that Steve knew as his father.
His father had not been a sentimental man. No badly drawn pictures had ever been held on the fridge with magnets bought as reminders of family trips. No ashtrays made by tiny fingers stood beside brightly polished family photos on any of the man's desks.
Yet, here was a box of keepsakes and moments, carefully boxed and loved. Just like the traces of Steve's old life were removed and taken with him to New York in a shoe box. A box that had followed him from place to place. It was still sitting on a shelf in the townhouse in San-Fran waiting for him to unpack and settle. And once he had decided if that was home, he would. But right now? It was likely that the box would stay packed for a long while yet. He had no idea what Home looked like. He was thirty-one; shouldn't he have this shit down by now?
His dad's box looked just like Steve's beloved shoe box back in San-Francisco.
Only Steve didn't recognise anything in the box before him. Not a letter or a photo, or a trinket could be attributed to him.
The box had a handful of photos, some showing a much younger face of his father. Happy and smiling, something that had never happened in family photos after Steve had turned one.
Steve recognised the looming Buildings in the background of some of the pictures. Las Vegas had a very recognisable look, even if he hadn't been there since he was very small. But some of the photos were a little closer to home. One picture seemed a little more damaged than the others in the box; the edges creased a little as if someone had spent a long time holding it before falling asleep. The background of the black and white image was recognisable, though. It was the quarry. The guy in the photo was wearing nothing but shorts, his hand coming up to shield his eyes from the sun as he laughed at the person holding the camera. There was something familiar about the man, but Steve couldn't place him. His light curly hair framed a friendly, sweet face with dimples that instantly made him think of Eddie.
Steve flipped the photo
Sattler quarry spring break 1963
E.R. and S.R.H
E.R.? Could this be the Ethan his dad had mentioned in the will? It seemed strange that Steve didn't even know of the man's existence, yet his dad had left him something when he died. They had obviously been friends. Flipping back to the other photos, he could see now that the two of them were always together in every photo. His father's smile was bright and happy, even in the black and white images Steve had spread out on the desk. Ethan had gone to school with Steve's dad. They had matching letterman jackets. They grinned at the camera without a care in the world. It was like looking back at himself and Tommy when they had been joined at the hip. Before Steve had realised just how self-centered and hateful his childhood friend could be.
E.R & S.R.H. Vagas
Champions 1963
Stevie scored the winning basket two seconds before the buzzer to seal the deal.
His prize: spring break on the road.
Stevie? Nobody called his dad by his first name, not even Steve's mom when she was alive. Yet this Ethan person was immortalising the nickname forever on the back of a ten by six.
Steve read it a few times, taking in the swooping letters and the care taken in holding this snapshot in time as something of worth.
He turned his attention to the rest of the box. A few ticket stubs sat in among the piles, flyers for Vegas shows with the dates circled in red pen, stylised hearts, and save the date written in the same handwriting.
Steve recognised the name of the ballroom in his Grandfathers hotel, the date some thirty plus years ago. Why had his dad held on to something like that for so long? It wasn't out of some sort of love for his mother. His mother had only ever visited Vegas under duress. She hated the heat, having grown up in New York.
Maybe the answers were in the letters? There were stacks and stacks of them, tied neatly with elastic bands to hold them together. He shouldn't look through something so personal. He would have hated anyone going through his own things.
But his dad wasn't here anymore, was he?
Steve sipped on the whiskey as he tried his hardest to ignore the pile of letters and turn his attention to his dad's last wishes.
Curiosity got the better of him. The letters at the top of the pile were already open after all, post-stamped not even a month ago. San Francisco. That raised Steve's curiosity even more. Curiosity may have killed the cat, but Steve's had made him stare down the flowery maw of a Demogorgon; whatever was on that piece of paper couldn't hurt him. Could it?
Stevie,
I'm worried about you. You haven't answered any of my last few letters, and words gotten to me that you sold the house in Hawkins.
Where am I supposed to send the letters if I can't send them to you there?
I can hardly send them to the office. People would start asking questions. Questions, I know you're still afraid to answer even now.
Elizabeth would have understood. She wasn't stupid, Stevie; she knew what you were about. And Steve? He would come around eventually. From what I know of him, he's anything but a hypocrite.
Please write back, or let me know where it is I should send future correspondence.
I endeavor to visit Hawkins and my sister at the end of the summer.
I need to see you again in person, even if it's just the once. I have waited too long. I have to move on. The world is changing around us, Stevie, my love. It's time to face the world hand in hand, or throw everything we've ever felt away.
I never stopped loving you. I know you feel the same.
But we have to make a choice, neither of us are as young as we used to be, and now it's time to accept that the only thing stopping you, and by extension us, was the twisted mind of your father.
Forever, E.
Steve read it once. Then read it again, trying to parse if the words he was reading meant what he thought they did. On the first read through, Steve was convinced his father had been having an affair. It wasn't as if he didn't have precedent for it. Was this the woman who had caused the rift to form even more between his parents?
On his second read through, the parts fell into place. He flipped the photo of his father and his friend in school, then the one of the guy in Sattler quarry. The sweeping scrawl matched exactly.
E was Ethan. the man whose photos his father had saved over the years, and by the look of it, the correspondence that had accumulated over the same time, the affair might not actually be that bad a guess.
Was his dad having an affair with a guy?
He couldn't have been, could he? He had listened to his father preach about gays being a blight on the world all the way through the '80s. How the Aids pandemic was sent from a higher power to rid the world of the fairies. He hadn't held back on his distance when he found out Steve's best friend was a lesbian. He'd had to listen to the rant about the Buckleys being too weak to weed that kind of nonsense out of Robin for months before Steve had found the strength in him to tell his dad to shut up.
Steve had never managed to tell his father that he was bi. And his father had happily never questioned the male friends that Steve had entertained before and after Lana.
Had Dick been hiding his own leanings behind hate? It seemed that Ethan suspected his mother knew something. Maybe she did. Some of her scathing words made more sense with the sexuality of his own father under question. And that was the Dick Harrington fight or flight responses. He would always pick fights, with a hard set scowl that very rarely left his face unless he was needed to charm his way into a new business deal.
Steve took another drink, his mind starting to muddle as the alcohol mixed with his jet lag and heightened emotions. He tapped the pile of letters idly, questioning if he really wanted to read what was quite literally love letters from some other man to his father.
Decision made, Steve drained the glass and opened the next letter, under no assumption that if he read something he didn't want to, it was nobody's fault but his own.
Stevie,
Your son drinks vodka and cranberry, and every time he asks me to pour one, it's like it's you're on the other side of the bar. He's your double; it's undeniable he's your son.
The first time he walked into the bar, I swore I'd seen a ghost. He wears his hair like you did when we were back in school. It was like turning the time back. Back to when you would find any way to try and keep me in your life, despite the lies and hate your father spewed your way.
It hurts to see Steve; he's what you should have been, who you still could be.
He dances with no fear of who's watching, women. Men. Everything in between. Has he told you he's queer? Or is he hiding his heart from you the same way you have been hiding yours since high school from your family and the world?
It's never too late.
Forever, E
Hold on. Did he know Ethan? Was that why his smiling face looked so familiar? When Steve checked the postmarks on the envelopes, they all read San Francisco. No return address. Ethan was being careful not to leave a trace.
Ethan had seen Steve in San-Fran. The man obviously had a bar of some sort. Now Steve's slightly drunk mind was trying to rotate his and Robin's regular drinking spots, trying to remember what the owners and the barmen looked like. He was drawing a blank. Right now, he wished it weren't past midnight in France. Robin, clever in ways Steve could never be, would know who it was straight away.
Steve reached out to grab the bottle and refill his glass. He scattered the neat piles of letters in the process. Cursing at how fast he was getting through the Johnnie Walker, he pulled them all back into messy piles, grabbing one to read at random.
Stevie,
I met your Steve today.
Imagine my shock when he walked into the park with his son while I was out walking Theo. You didn't tell me you were a grandfather? Your grandson seemed enamored with Theo. They played fetch as young Steve and I chatted on the bench at that fountain we like to take our coffee by.
I don't think Steve recognized me. Why would he? He hasn't seen me since he was only a child himself.
Did you know he had moved to San-Francisco? I assume not, as you hadn't let me know that there was a chance I might run into him.
Steve says that he left the family company after creative differences. I suspect that creative difference stemmed from the proverbial stick you permanently seem to have up your backside. It appears to have gotten lodged quite far up there during our forced time apart.
What happened to you, Stevie? The man I knew would not have pushed his son away like this. But then again, you were always a coward when it came to the things you loved.
You know where to find me. I never stopped waiting.
I will be back in Hawkins for the holidays. Maybe you will read this before then and find it in your heart to reconnect with your oldest friend.
Forever, E
Steve remembered that day. He had been trying to find Gabe a pre-school. He remembered Theo, the Jack Russell. Gabriel had indeed been enamored with the creature. He had checked to see if Theo was around every day for a week until the dog ran over with his tennis ball and dropped it at Gabriel’s feet. He had never gotten the man's name, but he had gotten the dogs.
No wonder he had been so unsuccessful in business meetings. He couldn't even remember if he had introduced himself at any point. Although going by Ethan's letters, he didn't need to make a formal introduction. The man had known who he was at first sight. This man, whose photo his father had hidden away behind a painting dedicated to the woman he was supposed to love.
Steve wasn't stupid. He could read between the lines. His dad was in a relationship with a man. Or he had been.
He poured the last of the whiskey into his glass and tipped the rim to clink against his dad's abandoned one on the desk.
"Fucking hypocrite." He said by way of a toast, letting the bitterness sting his throat and the tears finally fall.
He had thrown everything away because he was scared of the feelings he had for Eddie. Worried what his father would say.
And all the time Steve was living a lie, his father was doing exactly the same
Chapter Text
Eddie was doing an exceptionally good job of keeping his cool. This trip to his solicitor was possibly going to send him into his own early grave. As if he hadn't already been through an emotional rollercoaster over the course of the last three days.
Wayne was sitting at his side, face dead set in anger at the man on the other side of the desk.
"You do realize that they dropped all the charges against my nephew," Wayne said. "He's a well-respected member of this community. Yet they're still saying no?"
"Mr Munson, no offence, but Edward apparently doesn't have the business credentials to appease the Bank's needs. This has nothing to do with—"
"Bullshit." Wayne cut the man off. "The kid's got money, he just needs the backing of the bank, but you all still got a stick up your-"
"Wayne!" Eddie scolded, as much as it amused him, when Wayne's cantankerous side showed itself. Eddie needed this backing to buy out Gareth's dad. He had almost all the money he needed. Sure, he had been coasting on the government handout since the '80s, but he still had a stockpile, even after buying Wayne a little cabin out by the lake. He just needed a little more to buy out Gare's dad. Hopefully, with a little left over to renovate, and maybe invest in some new equipment.
"Mr. Holland, it's not like I'm opening a bar, or some fly-by-night operation. It's a funeral business. Unless some scientist discovers the cure for everlasting life. I won't be going out of business anytime soon. That's gotta be something that is of interest to the bank? Right?"
"Mr Munson, the Bank isn't saying you don’t have the money. They are saying you don't have a viable business background or evidence of where the investment money you have came from. The bank can't take risks like that, even if the investment is sound. If you can find someone willing to invest, come in as a partner. Someone who already has the reputation and evidence of wealth, then the Bank will happily back the investment and go forward. But right now, unfortunately for you, your uncle is right. I know, I know," Mr Holland held his hands up, placating.
"I'm on your side here, Eddie. I know you did nothing wrong. We will forever be in your debt for bringing Barbara's body home and bringing my wife and me peace. But the Bank? Hagan is being very insistent on this."
Eddie hated this, fucking Vecna was shitting on him from beyond the grave yet again, but this time with the help of Tommy Fucking Hagan.
"Anybody else but Hagan would have signed off on it. You know that, right?" Eddie said, sinking into his chair, trying not to act as defeated as he felt. He had nothing left. This was his only chance to buy out Harry. He couldn't stand the idea of the home going to some chain of undertakers who didn't know the area, didn't know the history of the people in this godforsaken town. Outsiders might ask questions. Wonder why so many of the residents of Hawkins and the surrounding towns had matching scars, why their bodies were marked and battle-worn. Anyone who hadn't left in that first mass exodus had at least one remnant of the fight against Vecna. Including Tommy FUCKING Hagan. Tommy was being an ass on purpose, still bitter that Steve had refused his offer when Tommy tried to crawl back to him, egotistical tail between his legs.
Hagan was sabotaging him. He had been unbearable ever since Eddie moved back to Hawkins. Eddie sort of got it. It hurt like hell to be rejected by Steve.
His mind had wandered; Mr Holland and Wayne were continuing their conversation without him. Eddie was used to disappointment, but this was a low blow. The only thing that was keeping him sane right now was the fact that he needed to have a clear head when Steve came to discuss funeral plans later today.
He was both excited for and dreading the prospect of spending time with Steve. He had hardly slept last night. It must have shown, because Wayne had commented on it when Eddie had climbed out of his truck to meet him outside. His stomach was jumping through hoops. The black coffee he had nursed all morning to feel a little awake irritated his insides.
Eddie had to stop getting his hopes up. Steve had obviously moved on. Gabriel was proof of that. But hope was a thing with teeth, and unfortunately for Eddie, it had already latched on with its canines.
Eddie was shaken from his wandering thoughts by the sound of Wayne's chair scraping over the wooden floor. They had obviously been dismissed. Or Wayne had reached the end of his tether for 'business' talk.
Eddie thanked Mr Holland for his time before chasing his disgruntled father figure out of the office and into the car park. He should probably warn Wayne about Steve being back, right? The two of them used to be close.
"Hey, old man, wait up, I have something I have to talk to you-"
"Not now, Ed's, " Wayne said gruffly as he climbed into his Chevy. "I ain't in the mood for talking. I'll see you at work." It was almost comical that Wayne was more irritated at this setback than he was.
True to his word, Steve returned to his old bedroom, aware that if Gabriel did wake in the middle of the night, his new surroundings would probably disorientate him. Steve also knew that he would never hear the end of it if Gabe woke up and his dad wasn't lying by his side like promised.
The entire ordeal of sharing with the kid had left Steve grumpy this morning. severely regretting getting at least halfway through the bottle of whisky before crawling into bed beside a six-year-old who liked to play soccer in his sleep.
The three, maybe four, hours of sleep he had managed didn't seem to have made his headache from the day before any better. Two Advil and his own body weight in Eggo's had at least taken some of the edge off. He had at least pulled himself together enough that he didn't look as dead as he felt.
He had tried to call Robin before they left, but she had checked out of the hotel already. He needed to talk to her. First, Eddie, then the revelation about his father. He needed her to use as a sounding board. Because right now, his brain was jumping from problem to problem, and he needed to deal with one major life crisis at a time. Unfortunately, his brain hadn't gotten that memo. It seemed to think he could deal with everything all at once, when in reality, he wasn't sure how he was even going to instigate the last wishes of his father, when all he could think about was being back in Hawkins and all the new and complicated feelings he had about the place now that he knew Eddie was here.
As they drove through downtown, the town's transformation shocked Steve again. Hawkins was obviously now a place people wanted to live. Not somewhere people wanted to run from at the first convenience. Gabriel was asking a million questions about everything he could see from the window, and Steve was doing the best he could to answer him, trying to place the town he had once known under the shiny, fresh coats of paint.
He pulled into the parking lot of the Funeral home with his father's files in the passenger seat, and Gabriel's volume getting louder the more excited he got from the back seat. Why couldn't his kid be obsessed with dinosaurs or fire trucks like any other child his age?
The first thing he saw when he parked up was Wayne.
Solid, reliable Wayne. He felt as if a weight had lifted from his shoulders. This was an actual adult. It didn't matter that Steve was in his thirties. The real adults were finally here to help.
"Wayne!" He yelled with a wave as he jumped out of his rental. Looking up, the older man's surprised expression told Steve he hadn't expected to see him. Had Eddie not told Wayne he was here? That hurt more than it should have.
"Steve? What are you doing here?" Wayne questioned, wiping the dirt from the potting plant he was working on off the front of his work trousers. " And who is this young fella?" Wayne asked as Gabriel jumped down from the car.
"Wayne, this is Gabriel. My son," Steve said as Gabriel thrust out a sticky hand for Wayne to shake.
"Nice to meet you, Gabriel," Wayne said as he shook the hand offered.
"Do you work with dead people, too? Dad says I'm not allowed to ask to see Grandad, but he saw him yesterday. And I'm six."
"Six, huh?" Wayne smirked.
"Going on forty," Steve said as he accepted the hug Wayne had pulled him into. He couldn't help but wonder if this was what it felt like to Gabriel when Steve hadn't seen him in a while. He certainly hadn't felt this wave of affection for his own father.
"I can see that," Wayne chuckled as they broke apart. "What's this about your dad?" He asked.
"I'm in town to sort out his funeral," Steve answered, reaching back into the car to get his dad's personal files. "I'm surprised Eddie didn't say anything? We got in yesterday."
"We haven't really talked since I only got back into town myself this morning," Wayne said in that slow, calculated way he had. "Sorry to hear about your old man."
Wayne knew how strained things had always been between Steve and his family. Eddie didn't hold the monopoly on Steve spilling his innermost turmoil.
"Thanks, Uncle Wayne."
Gabriel's attention piqued at that. He knew his dad had no other family. Just Robin and his now-dead father. And sure, Gabe called the party aunt and uncle, and he even called Claudia, Hopper, and Joyce gramps. But Gabe knew they weren't blood.
To be fair, neither was Wayne. But old habits die hard. Even after Eddie had left Hawkins, Wayne had been there for Steve in a way his own family never had. The guilt of not staying in touch with the other man was eating away at him now. It didn't mix well with his whiskey hangover.
"You're working here now?" Steve asked, looking at the coveralls the man was wearing.
"Finally caved to Eddie's constant nagging. The plant is all robots now, anyway. I look after the grounds here now, tend to the graves, and help out where I can."
"Didn’t fancy the other bit?" Steve asked as they made their way towards the main building. That strange tension was building in his stomach again. But this time, it was all to do with Eddie and nothing to do with the impending plans of his father's demise.
"Dealing with the dead? No. not for me. I'd rather be out here. Eddie and Harry have that covered," Wayne said as he paused next to his truck.
"Dad?" Gabe asked.
"Yes?"
"Is Wayne Eddie's dad? He looks like Eddie, but with less hair." Gabe said in that matter-of-fact way that always made Steve worry about how insufferable he was going to be when he became a teenager.
"Observant, ain't he?" Wayne said with a smile. "I'm Eddie's uncle. His daddy ain't with us anymore."
"Oh. Is he dead too, like Granda?" Gabe asked with all the tact of your average six-year-old.
"He is," Wayne said slowly, that unfazed demeanor slipping slightly at Gabriel’s bluntness.
"Gabe, you really have to stop and think before you ask things," Steve warned. Sure, Steve knew that Al Munson was about as much of a model parent as his own dad. But he had still been Wayne's brother. Eddie's dad. Eddie hadn’t been joking yesterday when he said he knew how strange it felt.
"Sorry, Wayne," Gabe said, using his hazel eyes as the ultimate weapon as he lay on the apology thickly. The kid was sincere, but alas, he had a flair for the dramatics almost as fanciful as his mother's.
"It's fine, kid. It was a long time ago now, you would have only been a baby." Wayne mimed rocking a kid in his arms. Wayne turned to Steve."That's how he got the job here. He came back to bury Al. He's got Eddie's plot in the old cemetery. That's where I'm off to today, gonna re-point some graves. Been slogging through the ones that got damaged in the earthquake."
"You're doing what?" Gabe asked, eyes wide as he looked at the tools in the back of Wayne's van.
"Fixin' graves," Wayne explained. Gabriel's face lit up. If there was one thing that ranked higher than coffins in Gabe's carefully crafted pecking order, it was gravestones. Steve knew what was going to come out of his son's mouth before he even opened it.
"Dad… can I go with Wayne?" He practically pleaded. Steve was happy for him to go, but only if Wayne was. After all, what was the alternative? The kid stuck in a room playing video games while Steve tried not to beg for forgiveness for every single stupid choice that had led him to this point?
"That's up to Wayne. If he's busy, you might just have to-"
"None of that." Wayne cut across him. "If the kid wants to come with me, I ain't gonna say no. Let you get on with that in peace." He said, nodding at the files in Steve's hand. "We might even find some time in our busy schedule to get ice cream."
"Can I, Dad?" Gabriel asked, his smile so broad his glasses jostled off his nose. Steve pretended to think about it for a moment. He nodded once, and Gabriel yelled, punching the air in excitement. It wasn't like Steve was ever going to say no. Although it was slightly worrying how quickly Gabriel was willing to wander off with someone he had only just met.
"What's going on?" Eddie asked, appearing in the doorway at the sound of Gabe's excitement. "Ah! Wayne, I see you've met Mr. Gabriel." He said with a smile that tugged directly at Steve's heart.
"Eddie! I'm going to help Wayne fix a grave. So I get to do something cool even if I don't get to see Granda," Gabe said excitedly.
"That so?" Eddie asked, walking over and helping Gabriel climb up into the cab of Wayne's truck. Eddie fixed Wayne with a playful glare."You got so sick of asking me when I'm gonna make you a grandpa, that you're adopting Steve's kid now, old man?" Eddie asked as the older man climbed in beside Gabriel. Wayne waved him off, but Steve didn't miss the knowing look on Eddie's face as he looked at his uncle.
"I'll get him out of the way for a few hours. You two play nice." Wayne said as he started the truck.
The silence wasn't anywhere as awkward as Steve thought it should be as he and Eddie watched the truck pull out onto the main street. Steve knew that Wayne had just cemented his place in Gabe's life, and Steve was already dreading the fallout when they had to eventually leave.
"We can do this one of two ways," Eddie said as he opened the door to the consulting room. "We can pretend that you are just another customer." He said, turning to look Steve dead in the eye. "Or we can do it the other way."
"What's the other way?" Steve asked. Not sure he wanted the answer. Eddie's gaze had him stunned.
"You let me give you a damn hug and we stop acting like nothing ever happened?" Eddie didn't break his gaze as he said it. The genuine emotion was easy to see in his eyes. They had always been expressive. It was part of the reason Steve loved him. It took Steve a moment to respond. Worry was creeping onto Eddie's face.
"The second one!" He said, not wanting to ever see that look of rejection on Eddie's face again. His heart couldn't bear it.
Eddie stepped forward, taking the files from Steve's grasp and placing them on the table. When he turned back, he raised an arm slowly, as if trying to soothe a scared and wounded animal. Steve didn't know what Eddie was being so cautious about. All Steve had wanted to do since yesterday was fall into Eddie's embrace, find that safety that he had only ever found in Robin and the man before him.
Steve broke the distance. Stepping into Eddie's space and pulling him in. Eddie's arms instantly snapped around him, pulling him closer. If Wayne's hug had felt like family, it was nothing compared to the overwhelming wash of home that hit him as Eddie squeezed. Steve all but collapsed into Eddie's embrace. Let the comforting, familiar scent of Eddie's drug store cologne and cigarettes mixed with the new, strange scent of the funeral home engulf him. Steve wasn't sure where the tears were coming from. He was sure that he couldn't possibly have any spare water in him after the amount he had cried last night.
"I missed you," Eddie muttered as he pulled him tighter.
Somehow, that made Steve cry even more.
"So, other than business partners, is there anyone else you need to contact? I'll be putting an obituary in the local paper, obviously, and they tend to run statewide, but with your family, I'll run it nationally," Eddie said as he made notes in his book. He had pulled his chair close; their legs pressed together beneath the table. It was a comfort thing. Steve was sure of it. He wasn't sure who it was comforting more, though.
"Lana or Maurice will come over from France to represent the company, probably Lana," Steve said, fidgeting with the pencil Eddie had given him to write his own notes. "That will at least make Gabe happy. Although I think you and Wayne may have pushed me and his mother from the top of the list of his favorite people on the planet." Beside him, Eddie froze. It was only momentary, but Steve had always been able to read Eddie. From that first run-in at the boathouse to that last heartbreaking glance in the wing mirror back in '91.
"Lana and me haven't been together since Gabe was five months old," Steve said. He needed Eddie to know that things were absolutely unequivocally over between Steve and Gabe's mom. He was deliberately not looking at Eddie, but he saw him relax in his peripheral vision. "She probably means well, but motherhood isn't for her. I've had full custody since Gabe was one. We're living with Robin and her Girlfriend, Laura, out in San Francisco at the moment." Steve finally chanced a look at Eddie, and when he did, Eddie was gazing back at him. "Robin is a saint. But you already know that."
"That she is," Eddie said, a small smile turning up the corner of his lip. Steve couldn't help but mirror him. It was like nothing had ever changed. Even if everything had.
"She's already on her way here. Robin, not Lana. I have no idea what Lana is up to. Never did, if I'm honest. But Rob was in France with me when I got the call from Hop. Well, not with me … Rob can't stand Lana. She's in Florence with Laura, or at least she was. I'm guessing she's on her way now cause she had checked out when I called the hotel this morning. I still can't get my head around time di-"
Eddie laughed. It cut Steve off.
"I can tell you still live with Robin."
"What's that supposed to mean ?"
"You didn't come up for air once in that entire sentence," Eddie said, nudging his knee against Steve's.
"Oh, shit. I didn't, did I?" Steve said sheepishly. "We don't have many friends in San Fran. I spend most of my free time with her and Gabe. I think I've lost the art of conversation since I became a full-time dad."
"Why San Francisco?" Eddie asked, putting his pen down and turning his full attention towards Steve. It had been some time since anyone had given Steve their undivided attention. He was always just Gabriel's father, or Steven Harrington’s son. Someone in the periphery of someone else's life. But right now, under Eddie’s gaze. He felt seen.
"It was where Robin was. I couldn't go back to New York. My dad's name was on our apartment lease. I couldn't come back to Hawkins. This place was full of ghosts. And I can't speak a lick of French, so staying there wasn't an option."
"But didn't you marry a French woman?" Eddie asked, frown now twisting his smile into a confused pout.
"Don't be stupid. Gabe's a bastard in the genuine sense of the word. I disgraced the good Harrington name. Much to the chagrin of my good old dad," Steve said in a singsong voice. Not that the idea of marrying Lana hadn't been on the cards at least once. "I'm the black sheep of the family. How dare I not conform to their ways!"
That made Eddie laugh. Steve couldn't help but think that he had won some sort of prize. He had forgotten just how much he loved to hear Eddie's laughter. Although after last night, he wondered if he had been the first to bring shame to the Harrington name or if his dad had beaten him to it.
Eddie looked like he was about to say something when the phone in the front office started to ring. He jumped to his feet, and Steve suddenly realized just how close they had been sitting. His leg felt cold now that Eddie was no longer pressed tight against it, despite the blazing temperatures outside.
Steve looked down at the paper before him. He had been trying to work out what he wanted Eddie to put in the announcement for at least the last hour. Although both of them had wandered off the topic of the funeral several times, Steve hadn't gotten further than his dad's name at the top of the sheet of paper.
He didn't know what to write. He didn't know what to say. After what he had found last night, he felt like he knew his father even less, while somehow feeling closer to him than he ever had when he was alive. He really wished he had gotten to speak to Robin this morning. She would know what to write, how to phrase his words so they didn't sound bitter or an outright lie. Steven Robert Harrington had not been a loving father, husband, or grandfather. Maybe he had been a loving boyfriend to Ethan at some point? Steve was going to have to find the man, let him know his lover had passed. Maybe the actual love of his father's life could find the words that Steve couldn't.
"Hey… I have to go on a callout," Eddie said apologetically as he stuck his head back in the room. Steve felt his heart sink. He had been enjoying Eddie's company. Maybe a little too much. Eddie looked just as reluctant as Steve felt to be cutting their time together short. His disappointment must have shown, because Eddie tapped his hand against the doorpost a few times and looked like he was trying to decide something.
"You can come with me if you like?"
"You hired a new guy?" Mark asked as Eddie walked up to the side doors of the hospital with his gurney. Mark wasn't stupid. He knew that Eddie never took people out with him on calls, especially collections. He was eyeing the front of the people carrier with a curiosity that bordered on Henderson levels.
"Nope. He's an old friend. That was his dad you brought over at the weekend." Eddie said pointedly, hoping Mark would drop the subject. "No, baby yet then?"
"Wouldn't be here if they were." He shrugged, "That new beginning is on hold for a few more days at least." Mark glanced at the car again. Steve was watching them from the passenger seat. It had been a long time since Steve had been to the hospital, and he was looking at it now as if he had never seen it before. It had changed a lot since the end of the world. The government had poured money into it. Just like they had the rest of Hawkins and the surrounding area. It was a shame that Eddie couldn't break his NDAs. Declaring the money he had been government-backed would have given Hagan no room to argue.
"So he's Harrington then?" Mark said, waving to the car, prompting Steve to wave back, that stupid little wave that Eddie had always found adorable. He couldn't help but smile.
"Oh, so he's that sort of old friend, is he?" Mark said with a smirk.
"I don't know what you mean?" Eddie asked.
"The sort that turns you into a blushing virgin, Ed, I don't think I've ever seen you this pink before." Mark laughed to himself, and Eddie knew he wasn't lying. He could feel the flush building in his face. It was humiliating. He used to be better than this at hiding his emotions. He was sure of it.
"He's not an Ex if that's what you're fishing for. You gossip." Eddie said, trying to fight off the urge to say any more about the way Steve had crashed back into his life almost as fast as he fell out of it. Out of all the people who lived in Hawkins now, he trusted Mark the most. After Wayne, obviously. The guy had never once judged Eddie, not even when he found out Eddie liked guys. Mark had gone as far as trying to hook Eddie up with one of his friends from back home. It had failed miserably, but it was the thought that counted.
"You know you can tell me," Mark said, holding the door so Eddie could wheel the gurney inside.
"I know I can. But Steve and I are just … Well … Stevie and me. Nothing ever happened between us ." Eddie deflected, nodding once to Steve before the doors closed behind him.
Mark laughed. "Whatever you say, Eddie. Whatever you say. "
There was no unusual cause of death, no road traffic smash, no murderer or Evil wizards. Mr Spencer had passed in his sleep. Eddie had been expecting it. Mrs. Spencer had passed in December, and the man had been desolate ever since. Classic broken heart syndrome. The two of them had been inseparable in life. Why should death be any different? Eddie couldn't say he was looking forward to having to deal with Keith again in such a short amount of time.
The guy couldn't catch a break.
But the guy was sitting on the family empire, owned the lot now that his grandparents had both passed. The Spencers owned the arcade, the family video, the gas station, the diner, and the coffee shop. He wondered what Steve would think when he found out that Keith worked in retail, out of choice and not necessity.
He might sit on that little nugget of information for later. That was, if he got to have a later. After all, Steve had a life in San Francisco. Hawkins was just a brief pit stop.
Hopefully, Eddie would find his way back into Steve’s life permanently. He hadn't been lying when he said he missed Steve. Under all that anger and hurt, he had missed Steve to the point of tears. Not that anyone knew that, but Wayne. But his old man had always been able to see through his bullshit.
Steve was leaning against the car, looking down at his phone, when Eddie pushed the gurney out of the double doors. He straightened up and pocketed his phone when he realized it was Eddie coming, his attention now fully on him in a way Eddie couldn't say he disliked.
"Robin is flying back tomorrow. Then coming straight here." Steve said as he patted his phone in his pocket.
"Nothing straight about that woman. Take that slander out of your mouth," Eddie joked.
"The same applies to me, but I'm already here." Steve said with a wink, "You need a hand or?"
"You what?" Eddie spluttered, processing what Steve had just alluded to.
"Want a hand putting this in the back?" Steve asked, gesturing to the body between them. Eddie studied Steve's face for any sign that what he had heard was actually what the man had said. But Steve's poker face had improved over the years.
What he said made it sound like Steve was saying he wasn't straight. Eddie had never heard the man admit it out loud before. He had his suspension. Knew that before Eddie had left for Chicago, the unnamed thing between them had hung electric in the air. Never given words. Even if Eddie had known exactly how he felt, he had never been more than 80% sure about how Steve felt. Eddie knew better than to trust that kind of odds.
But had Steve just admitted something?
He was looking at Eddie now, waiting for an answer, an eagerness on his face that Eddie couldn't quite understand the source of.
"No, it's fine. I can do this myself." He said, gripping the gurney and trying to pay attention to the job at hand. Easier said than done now that Steve had dangled the carrot of hope in front of him.
Steve walked ahead, opening the back of the people carrier even though Eddie had said he had this.
It was routine, knocking down the wheels and sliding the gurney onto the shelf. He locked off the stretcher and made sure the wheels were folded and the block was holding everything in place. After re-adjusting the dark blue blanket he used to drape the body, Eddie turned to Steve, who was still holding the door. He looked completely fine with the fact that he was in the presence of a dead body. But then again, it wasn't his first rodeo.
"You do this on your own?" Steve asked.
"Mostly," Eddie answered, securing the door. "Gareth’s dad owns the business. He's semi-retired, and Wayne isn't great with people." Steve followed him back to the front of the car, dutifully getting into the passenger side.
"I always thought undertakers drove hearses?" Steve asked, apparently full of questions.
"Only for the actual funeral, and only if people want them. We normally just use estate cars, or if someone really wants one, Harry, that's Gareth's dad, can pull out an actual honest to god horse drawn carriage," Eddie said with a chuckle. "I dunno what I'm gonna do when he retires. Unless whoever buys the funeral home knows how to ride a horse. I don't trust them. Horses. Devious at both ends and crafty in the middle. Although our horse, Dave, isn't too bad," Eddie sighed. "Not that any of the big chain directors ever have anything as personal as that on the books. Clinical bastards. It's all about the money."
Eddie chanced a glance at Steve as he turned out onto the highway. He had that look of curiosity on his face again, as if everything Eddie had to say was worth his entire attention.
"You care about this, don't you?" Steve asked.
"I know it sounds stupid, especially in a town that wanted me dead at one point. But I do. It's a respect thing. Maybe, if it were in some big city, where nobody knew each other, I wouldn't care as much. But the people of Hawkins, the towns around here… they gave up so much, you know? We gave up so much. And sure … some of them still like to play hunt the freak. But even they deserve a decent send-off."
They sat in silence, the weight of Eddie's words sitting heavy in the air.
"Plus, I've got the inside info, haven't I? How many people can say they saw their own funeral?" Eddie added after a few moments. Of course, it came from whatever Vecna-induced coma dream he experienced while 'incubated' in the Upside Down, but he saw his ceremony, even though his dad now occupied the spot in Hawkins' old cemetery instead of his empty casket.
"Jesus, Spys, a couple of Jedi, and you … that's an exclusive club," Steve answered to what Eddie had meant as a rhetorical question.
Eddie laughed. A genuine laugh from the bottom of his stomach. "Forgot how much of a nerd you could be, Stevie."
"Coming from you, that's a compliment."
"I know it is."
Steve watched as Eddie unloaded the stretcher from the back of the van. He was pretty sure he wasn't supposed to be back here. But Eddie didn't say anything, and Steve wasn't going to even pretend that he wasn't enjoying watching Eddie right now as he easily maneuvered the weight he was lifting down single-handedly.
He knew he was shallow, alright? Eddie may have spent his entire life hiding behind the voice and the bravado, but Steve knew he could fight. Knew that Eddie had more strength than anyone gave him credit for. Steve had watched Eddie match his bench weight. Watched as the man recovered from some of the worst wounds Steve had ever seen, only to come back stronger, wielding a spear and his own nail bat with as much anger and vengeance. It almost put Steve's skill to shame.
Steve had felt Eddie's strength himself. He'd been pinned to the ground more than once when roughhousing in the backyard, the kids egging them on like the wild animals that they were. It didn't look like Eddie had given up on working out in their time apart, and right now Steve was unashamedly watching as Eddie's muscles flexed under the sleeves of his black t-shirt as he kicked the wheels down under the stretcher. He should feel ashamed of himself. There was a dead man in the room, and all he could think about was the way Eddie's new tattoos moved across his biceps as he pushed and pulled at a dead weight. He wanted to get up close and discover just what new art covered the other man's skin.
Eddie caught him watching. "If you ain't squeamish, you can help me? That is. If you don't need to go?" He said as he wheeled the stretcher towards the door. "Pretty sure Wayne is having the time of his life with Gabriel. I'm forever getting it in the neck about not settling down and giving him grandbabies. I wasn't joking when I said Wayne would adopt him."
Steve couldn't help the way his heart fluttered in his chest at that idea. Wayne had been good to him over the years, even after Eddie upped and left. He never once blamed Steve for the lack of visits from his nephew. Gabe could do worse in the grandpa department and had already with his flesh and blood.
"I mean, there is a vacancy for the position. Hopper can't have all the fun," Steve said as he followed Eddie's lead. "Is it all alright for me to be back here?"
Eddie shrugged, handing Steve a face mask. "Who's gonna tell?"
Steve hadn't been prepared for the harsh realities of Eddie's job. It was a far cry from his background of flow charts and business jargon. He had seen a lot of revoltingly gross stuff in his life, but watching Eddie embalm was a whole new level of unsettling. Not to say Steve didn't find the entire process fascinating.
He watched as Eddie worked, moving with a practiced ease that showed that the man felt completely at home in his job. Morbid curiosity had Steve in a chokehold. He threw question after question at Eddie, which the man answered with grace and ease.
When Eddie had finally finished washing the body and had set the lens caps behind the man's eyelids, he fiddled with the bottles of formaldehyde, stepping back as the liquid began seeping through the body.
Now that Eddie seemed to have reached a point where it was safe to do so. Steve gingerly stepped closer to the table. He didn't fancy knocking something and sending the sharp, bitter-smelling embalming fluid everywhere.
"Did you do that with my dad?" Steve asked.
"You really want to know?" Eddie asked. His face was unreadable behind the mask that hid his nose and mouth, but Eddie's voice was genuine with its concern.
"Yeah. I mean, I saw what was left of him. I imagine there were a lot of puncture wounds… did the stuff not just leak out?" Steve asked, genuinely curious. After all, Gabe had to get it from somewhere. If Mr Spencer looked like he was sleeping in death, his father had looked like the original mold for Freddy Krueger's makeup. If that was after Eddie had gotten to him and embalmed and cleaned him up, how bad had it been before?
"You bung up the holes so they don't leak," Eddie said flatly. "Your dad was a lot of work. I mean, I didn't mind. I thought it was you, didn't I?" Eddie said as the machine glugged away behind him. His eyes were glassy, like the memory was almost too much. "I took my time, repaired and filled out what I could. It was the least I could do. I don't think I did that badly from memory."
It had been a decade. So no, Steve didn't think he had done that badly at all. He doubted Eddie had held onto photos and memories in the same way Steve had. The same way his father had. The love that they both seemed to have let slip away. That thought stabbed like a knife. Twisting with the intent to hurt.
"Would you have been as thorough if you hadn't thought it was me?" Steve had to ask, even if he wasn't sure he wanted the answer. Part of him needed to know that Eddie still gave a damn.
"Probably not." The machine beeped behind Eddie, and he turned away. "Your dad was a dick."
"You have no idea," Steve muttered to himself, wishing he could tell Eddie just how true that statement was.
Steve watched as Eddie moved about the body, removing tubes and stitching up the wounds afterward. He was working methodically, taking his time with every action. The only other time Steve had ever seen Eddie so focused was when he was deep in planning a campaign. There was an intensity to it that Steve could feel himself being drawn into.
"It seems a waste to do all this when you're just going to burn them in a few days," Steve said as the last of the runoff disappeared down the drain.
"It's not meant to preserve for a long time, a week at most. You would have to mummify the body to make it last longer." Eddie said as he shut off the machine beside him. "I read about it when I was doing my degree." He explained, "They still do it in some cultures. Here, it tends to just be done with people who leave the body to medical science, although it's a bit more like pickling than mummification." Eddie looked up at him as he swapped out his gloves. Steve could tell he was waiting for the other shoe to drop and for Steve to freak out at his new job.
Steve was too busy trying to get his head around the fact that super senior Eddie, act first, think later Eddie, academia is for losers, Eddie, had gotten a damn degree. He hadn't thought about it yesterday. But of course, Eddie had. It was all science and numbers, and Steve couldn't imagine the amount of exams and coursework Eddie had to go through. He was so fucking proud of him. He wanted to tell Eddie that, but addressing anything that had happened in the last decade felt like it would burst this strange little bubble the two of them had found themselves in.
"Do you just leave him naked?" Steve asked instead of pouring his admiration towards the one he let get away.
"Yeah, until the family asks me to dress him, I'll keep him under the sheet. Can you hand me that, please?" Eddie asked, pointing at a red toolbox on the bench near the door.
Steve did as asked, worried about what was about to happen next. What on earth could Eddie need a toolbox for?
He didn't have to wait long for an answer. Eddie had opened the sliding shelves, and now Steve could see the contents. Make-up and face paint of all varieties and varying stages of use filled the space. Eddie reached up and flipped on a red light above his head. In this light, the skin of the corpse looked almost sun-blushed.
"What are you doing now?" Steve questioned as Eddie held up different pots of makeup against the dead man's face. He knew he should be more concerned with his own family. He tried to imagine Eddie doing this for his father. He could imagine the look of sheer determination to make it perfect that would have been on Eddie's face. Especially if he had thought it was Steve. God, if the tables had turned, and it had been Steve having to work on Eddie, he wasn't sure how he would have managed.
Eddie gave off a triumphant little hum as he settled on a color. "I'm gonna make him the belle of the ball. Gotta use all that miniature painting skill on something. I'll use makeup to make it look like he's only sleeping. Keith's been through enough already. He only just lost his Gran before Christmas."
"Keith? As in, used to be my boss, Keith?"
"The one and only. " Eddie said as he began making Mr. Spencer up, using the makeup in his kit to make the man look less pallid. "It's only stage makeup and lighting, but it helps; the guys just lost the last of their family. I'll try to make it as easy on him as I can." Eddie says as Steve watches on in silence.
Steve had to agree. He had seen his share of dead bodies. Eddie had been one of them, or at least that was what he thought at the time. Yet the work Eddie was doing now really made it look like Mr Spencer was just sleeping. He could see how people found comfort in it.
"I'm all done. Let me just pop him in the freezer and nip upstairs to get changed. Then we can negotiate the hostage situation and get your child back."
Eddie lived above the funeral home. Steve hovered at the bottom of the stairs, waiting for him after Eddie abandoned him to swap out his work clothes for something that didn't make him smell like a serial killer. Eddie's words, not Steve's. Steve had sniffed at his clothes as soon as Eddie had disappeared behind the door marked staff only, and he couldn't smell any lingering traces of the last few hours on his clothes. But then again, he hadn't been part of the whole process.
He was picking apart the absurd fact that he had just watched a man be embalmed, trying to work out how his life had come to this.
Robin was going to need a hell of a briefing.
Steve had just started to flick through the CDs next to the stereo system when Eddie announced his arrival.
"Come on. I want ice cream, and I don't know about you, but I'm starving," Eddie said, clapping his hands together and taking the Beatles album out of Steve's hand to put back in his alphabetized collection. "This job broadens your musical horizons. Still can't say I'm a fan. Harrison ain't too bad on the guitar, but McCartney is a little bit too in love with frogs, man."
"Only you wouldn't like the Beatles," Steve said with a huff. "What, getting shot dead not metal enough for you?"
"I got eaten by inter-dimensional bats playing the most epic concert this fine world has ever known. I reckon Lennon wouldn't have even gotten out of his yellow submarine." Eddie said as he locked up the home behind them.
"If you hadn't gotten out of yours, you might not have died the first time," Steve complained. "You're still not forgiven for that, by the way."
"Yeah, Yeah, whatever, Harrington. Let's just get in your fancy car, and we can argue about who did what stupid thing they shouldn't have at a later date. I've got a rum and raisin with my name on it." Eddie said, bounding over to Steve's rental, his left leg not quite reaching the floor completely as he moved. Steve hadn't noticed it while they were walking about, but now that Eddie was moving fast, the dip in his walk was prominent. Although Eddie had recovered well, built his strength, he was still struggling with the damage the bats had left behind. But just like Steve, Eddie was a professional at hiding things he didn't want to share with the class.
Steve knew better than to ask. They had already skirted the elephant in the room by talking about the Upside Down. Steve knew it was only going to be a matter of time before the beast startled, and this tentative camaraderie got trampled underfoot. The stupid thing they shouldn't have done was going to have to be addressed sooner or later. He just hoped that in the ten years that had passed, the two of them had grown up enough to come at it like adults.
Steve was met with a chorus of his name when he opened the diner door.
Wayne waved over at them from his place in the end booth. Beside him, Gabriel was deep in conversation with one of his other favorite people on the planet. Joyce. She got to her feet and rushed to Steve and Eddie as soon as she could. She pulled Steve into a bone-breaking hug, an achievement for someone half his size.
"Oh, sweetheart. I'm so sorry to hear about your father," She said, kissing him on the cheek. He didn't get time to answer before he was pulled in another direction; this time, it was Claudia Henderson. She almost rivaled Joyce in her strength, and behind him, he heard Eddie laugh as the woman nearly pulled him off his feet.
"You better have not traumatized him, Edward Munson," Claudia warned as she let go of Steve.
"Would I do a thing like that, Mama H?" Eddie said, sweeping in and kissing the woman on the cheek. "Wayne would tan my hide, and you would be right behind him."
"Now, Joyce, Claudia. Let the boys breathe." Hopper's voice piped up. Steve hadn't spotted the man until his hand had come down to squeeze him on the shoulder. "You get everything sorted?" He asked, concern hidden behind that air of authority Jim always seemed to wield.
"We got what we needed sorted, no thanks to you!" Eddie said with an accusing finger pointed at Hopper's chest. "It was the Beemer Hop. I thought he was dead," He said, nodding towards Steve. "And then you fucked off to Chicago," he added lower, aware that little ears were now trained on them from the end booth.
Hopper scoffed, gently pushing Eddie's hand away. He rolled his eyes in a way that said to Steve that Hopper had long since accepted Eddie's particular brand of theatrics.
"Did you think I wouldn't have brought him myself if it were Steve?" Hopper grunted. "Sorry about your car, kid." Hopper offered him as he nudged past Eddie to join Joyce, where she had settled back in the booth. Eddie threw his hands up in exasperation before stomping off towards Wayne and Gabe.
Steve followed his lead, sliding into the vacant spot next to Eddie. Gabe had turned his attention back to the menu, trying to sound out the words to Joyce, who hung on every mispronounced word. Eddie was sulking. Thirty-two years old, and his pet lip was sticking out more than Gabriel's ever had, and his son was the king of the pout.
"I already ordered for you both," Wayne said as plates of food started appearing at the table. Soon, a burger, fries, and a strawberry milkshake were sitting before Steve, and his stomach gave out an almighty grumble. It had been a long time since his eggos first thing. Beside him, Eddie lifted the top of the bun from his burger and pulled off the pickle. He placed it on the side of his plate to eat last.
"Why is Gabriel…" Eddie started to ask as the kid began picking apart his burger bit by bit.
"It's just what he does." Steve shrugged, "Why do you always pull out the pickle?"
"'Cause it's the best bit?" Eddie said, reaching out to dunk his fry in his milkshake. Across the table, Gabe had just picked up a fry to do the same thing. "I see you taught him the shake dunk," Eddie said with approval.
"He taught himself that, you're both revolting," Steve complained, shaking his head.
"It tastes like popcorn… right, Eddie?" Gabe said from across the table. Eddie the bastard nodded in agreement. Steve was never going to get Gabe to stop doing it now.
Around them, the noise of the diner grew. Steve listened to Joyce talking about Mike and Will, and the apartment they had found just outside the city. Listened to Claudia tell them all about how Dustin visited Erica over summer break. "They're working on a project together, apparently," Claudia said with a proud grin.. Beside him, Eddie barely contained a laugh, wiggling his eyebrows in Steve's direction and whispering the word 'Apparently.' It seemed that Eddie had the same thoughts about the 'friendship between Erica and Dustin as he had. But in front of the numbskulls mother was probably not the best place to discuss it.
Soon, the plates were cleared, and the last person Steve had expected to see today came to the table to take the dessert orders.
"Keith?" Steve questioned. The older man fixed him with the same look of disdain that he always seemed to save for Steve.
"Harrington," Keith acknowledged. "You ordering or just gonna stare?" It knocked Steve for six. Why the hell was Keith working when his Grandfather had just died this morning? Hadn't Eddie said he had just lost his Gran too? Shouldn't the guy look at least a little bit upset about it? Yet here he was, with the same dead behind-the-eyes customer service expression he always wore sat on his face.
"Erm, I'm fine with a coffee, Gabe, what do you want?" Keith took all the orders. To Steve's surprise, Eddie got to his feet and followed Keith back to the counter. Steve watched them as they talked. Keith never once broke that uninterested expression Steve knew and loved. But as soon as Eddie turned to join them again in the booth, Steve saw it slip, just for a moment. Keith sniffed once, then rubbed at his eyes with the back of his hand before disappearing into the kitchen.
"Keith likes Cheese Puffs and Dr Pepper," Steve said as Eddie joined him again.
"What?"
"Tomorrow, when he comes to organize everything. Cheese Puffs and Dr Pepper. I think… I don't think he's alright, but little things might help." Steve said, nodding towards the kitchen. "He shouldn't be at work."
"I thought you hated Keith?"
"I think he's a lazy ass, who wanted nothing more than to make my retail working life hell, but he was in the same boat, you know? Still is by the look of it."
"Steve, Keith is loaded. He now owns half the town; he's like Biff in Back to the Future, if the guy had zero personality. "
"You what?"
"His grandparents owned Family Video. Did you never look at your payslip?"
"Then why the hell is he…" Steve shook his head. Whatever. Keith was some sort of entrepreneur. Steve couldn't believe he gave a shit that the guy was upset. Maybe Eddie's speech in the car had gotten to him.
"I'll grab Dr Pepper on the way home," Eddie said, watching as Keith loaded up a tray with ice cream and coffee, his eyes a little more red than they had been a moment before.
Chapter Text
Steve couldn't sleep.
Staring out at the blue light in the pool did little to help with that. His dad must have had someone out to clean it before he died. It was too clean. They probably wanted to make it look better for whatever open house they had held when selling the place. Steve couldn't help but wonder if they had disclosed Barb's death in the listing or if the government had buried that little fact far underground.
Gabe had asked to go swimming when they got back from the diner. Steve had to tell him no. Even now, all he could see when he went near the pool was the cold, dead sunken eyes of Barb when they brought her back from the Upside Down version of the same pool. Steve hated telling Gabe no. It made him feel like a bad parent, even though he knew he wasn't by any stretch of the imagination. Maybe tomorrow, he could face the pool. But right now, it was nothing but the long shadow of his lost teenage years. He hoped whoever moved in after the Harringtons could find the joy in the pool the way he used to before the world turned. He sat at his old desk while his son slept deeply in the bed behind him. Exhausted from a day of making new friends and spending time with family, Gabriel would never have any doubt that they loved him. Because Steve's chosen family showed their love with every little thing that they did. Steve knew if he asked, the 'adults' in his life would drop everything to help him, but he was 32 years old. He should be able to figure this all out himself.
Tomorrow he would call the estate agents. Find out what 'sold as seen' meant in the paperwork left with his dad. Not that there was much he wanted to save from his childhood home. Gabe had already laid claim to the remaining childhood toys and knick-knacks Steve left behind. Honestly, he wouldn't have minded if the house had fallen into the cracks of the Upside Down when the world split open, as long as the contents of the old red Nike shoe box back in San-Fransisco made it out of the fire and flames. He had meant it when he said he never wanted to come back to this place.
But Gabe seemed to have fallen in love with Hawkins, and Steve was starting to wonder if this was where he was supposed to be.
The kid had, in his own words, "the best day ever." He had crawled into bed full of stories about the different people that he had met while he was out and about with Wayne. Because people talked to Gabe here, back in San-Fransisco, people tended to keep themselves to themselves. It had sounded like Gabriel had met and talked to half the town by the time he and Wayne had made it to the ice cream parlour.
Then Wayne did something that put Wayne Munson at the top of the list of Gabe's favourite people. He took him to the old graveyard and let him fix up part of a crypt that had been damaged in the second earthquake. Eddie had explained over dinner that the ground under the original town cemetery wasn't fit for purpose anymore. So they had started using a new plot about 8 years back. But the grounds were now starting to damage the old crypts and mosoleums.
Wayne and a group of volunteers were restoring the old headstones and crypts one by one, trying to at least give the interred a semblance of dignity after Vecna tore the earth apart around them.
Eddie's old grave was in that cemetery. Steve had spent a lot of time there with Dustin back when Eddie's empty grave was all they had left of him. He had mourned Eddie then, not even sure what the ache in his chest had been. He hadn't known Eddie then, not really, beyond running for their lives. The pain and loss he felt then, when they had to leave Eddie behind, was only a precursor to the ache that came after Eddie walked out of his life for good.
Because that was before. Before Eddie had come back. Before Eddie had become someone who made Steve's life mean something when he was around. Before Steve realized that Eddie complemented him in a way that nobody else ever had and ever could again.
Before he knew what it was to break his own heart because he was too cowardly to be brave, even though that had never stopped him any time before.
More before. Before and the after and then the ever after.
The ever after sucked.
It didn't have to.
Eddie had hugged him, and the world had felt better for just a few moments.
In times like these, he needed Robin more than ever, yet she was still on the other side of the world. He was starting to wish he had asked her to come home with him when he offered. He reached out and grabbed his phone, walking over and quietly getting under the covers with Gabriel. He contemplated what was keeping him awake, because it wasn't the blue light of the pool, or the loss of his childhood that had been sucked away when Barb had been taken from them. It was the death of something else. Something that Steve was all too aware had not been dead at all, just sleeping. Napping just on the edge of his reality.
To Robin: 01.34 am: I'm still in love with Eddie.
He knew Robin wouldn't pick it up till she got a cell signal. But just sharing it helped.
Keith picked up the can of Dr Pepper and gave Eddie a questioning glance. The Cheesy Puffs had garnered something that looked like a smile when he had pushed them across the table, but the Dr Pepper just seemed to have confused the older man.
"You hitting on me, Munson?" Keith asked as the tisk of the can opening filled the room.
From his seat at the other side of the desk, Eddie gave out a little chuckle. "Nah, a mutual acquaintance figured you could do with a little comfort in these trying times."
"Harrington?" Keith asked.
"Yeah," Eddie said, moving the papers around on his desk. He felt strange talking about Steve with Keith of all people. The guy was far from the fan club president when it came to Steve. Not that Eddie could blame him. It wasn't like Steve and Robin were the most reliable employees, and the strange, joined-at-the-hip telepathy the two of them had probably didn't make for the most enjoyable workplace environment.
"Didn't think he cared?" Keith said as he took a slow sip of his drink.
"He's more caring than people give him credit for. I think he was worried about you. He's in the same boat, so to speak. His dad's funeral is on Tuesday." Eddie said as he watched Keith across from him. Trying to work out just how far the town gossip had spread, the funeral announcement wasn't due to be published till tomorrow. "Steve's doing this on his own just as much as you. I know you think he's a brainless moron, but the guy has a heart of gold underneath all that hair."
"Alone? Thought he was married to Robin?" Keith asked, curiosity getting the better of him.
"I know they are hopelessly codependent, but at this point I think it would be bordering on incest," Eddie said, shrugging. "People need to learn what platonic means."
"You make a good point," Keith said as he slid the paperwork for his Grandfathers funeral back over the table with his trademark bored expression. The two of them sat in silence for a few moments. It was strange. Most of the people around their age had cleared out of Hawkins at the first chance, but the ones who remained, or made it back to the place, had a mutual respect in most cases. They looked out for each other even if they didn't always see eye to eye. Well, at least in most cases.
"Any further forward in buying this place?" Keith asked eventually. He had no way of knowing the crushing disappointment that Eddie had been blown just the day before, but it hurt to think about it right now.
"Hagan is going out of his way to make it impossible. It's not like I don't have the capital, but I can't prove where it came from. He knows this; it's not like Carol didn't get a payout after that Demodog took her leg. He's just being a dick about it." Eddie said as he grabbed himself a can of Dr Peper from the pack he had bought under Steve's advisement. "Don't suppose you want to expand the family dynasty into the funeral business, do you?" Eddie asked, a grain of desperation slipping through in his voice.
"I've had enough of this place to last me a lifetime, Munson," Keith answered, playing with the rings he had around his neck that had once belonged to his grandparents. "But you thought of asking Harrington?" There was no trace of teasing in his voice.
"Steve? We hardly know each other anymore. I couldn't even think to ask him, not when he's just lost-" Eddie cut himself short. He had been about to say 'his dad', well aware he had just asked Keith. And he was in the same boat as Steve, if not worse off. Keith had liked his parental figures. "I couldn't ask Steve, he's not going to want to have anything to do with a funeral business. Or Hawkins when this is over."
Keith drained the last of his can and threw it in the waste paper bin, where it joined the forgotten Cheesey Puff bag. "Harrington quit the family business when his mother died. That was two years ago. As far as I know, he's not done anything with the inheritance."
"You stalking him?" Eddie asked, almost starting to get worried on Steve's behalf.
"No, but I'm an entrepreneur. I read all the business pages. Know the enemy. Dick Harrington wanted to buy up most of Hawkins after the town went to shit. Something about a stable investment. Gramps told him to shove it up his ass at every turn. Made a game out of tracking the rise and fall of The Harringtons after that." Keith explained, "Last I read about the prodigal son, he had signed over his share in the company to the Cadieux family and moved back to the States. The last thing I expected to see was him sitting in the diner last night. Did wonder why he was back here, obviously wasn’t gonna ask."
"Yeah," Eddie said as he stared out the window at a little spider building a web in Wayne's rose bushes. "Hagan couldn't fight Steve. Even if it was just in name, he could vouch for me or something, right?"
" He has a more credible alliance with the bank; it would give Hagan nothing to fight against. Harrington Resorts is a powerhouse. Harrington so much as sniffs in that direction, a bank will be clambering to get you to sign the dotted line. But maybe think about taking him on as a true partner?" Keith helped himself to another can and a packet of chips as he got to his feet. "Harrington never wanted to join his dad. You're right. He gives too much of a shit about people. You're gonna need more hands around here soon anyway, right? When Harry retires. You can't work 24/7, Munson, it's not possible."
"I can't ask Steve to come in as a full partner; he has a kid, a life in California," Eddie said as Keith took his leave.
"What's the worst he's gonna do? Say no?" Keith said in the same bored customer service voice he used to address the general public. "Listen, Harington isn't my biggest fan, but he still found a way to make sure I was alright today through you. So maybe just maybe he might be interested if you ask him. I'll see you at bowling on Tuesday."
After Keith left, Eddie sat with his thoughts. He didn't believe in fate or any sort of divine intervention, but he was starting to think that powers outside of his control had other plans.
By the time another night passed, Gabe was getting irritated with Steve's insistence that they couldn't use the pool. Unfortunately for Steve, Gabe had inherited his stubborn streak, and it didn't look like it was going anywhere any time soon. So when Joyce called early that morning to see if Steve and Gabe wanted to go into town for breakfast and then to the public pool he said yes.
That was how Steve found himself sitting at the side of the Hawkins public pool, watching as Gabe made friends with the handful of other kids who hadn't started school yet. Gabe was having the time of his life. He was currently playing tag with a little boy and a redhead that reminded Steve so much of Max, he had to check with Joyce that the little girl wasn't some sort of relation.
Back in San Fran, Gabe didn't have many friends. The kids in his class were friendly, sure, but not in that usual best friend way that Steve had grown up with. Sure, Tommy had turned into an ass as he got older. But back when they were kids, they had been inseparable. Gabe had yet to find that, and it was only now, as his son loudly played with the others, that Steve had come to that realization.
Gabe had already been over to tell them both about his new friend Lewis—a freckled-faced kid who was loudly drumming the water with two pool noodles.
"That's Lewis's grandad, Harry. Eddie's boss." Joyce explained as she waved across the pool. "He's planning on selling up next year. I know Eddie's worried he's going to sell to some chain. Nobody from the big city is going to look at Eddie and keep him on the books, no matter how good he is at his job."
Now that Steve was looking, he could see the family resemblance. He hadn't ever been best of friends with Gareth, but he had hung out with Eddie and his band enough times that he recognised the face of one of Eddie's oldest friends when he saw it in miniature. The kid had gone from playing drums on the water to splashing around the pool pretending to be a shark. Gabe was barking orders as was his way. But the bossiness seemed to be sticking to Lewis just about as much as the water was sticking to the float Gabriel was using to keep himself topside.
"Eddie mentioned it, that Harry was planning to sell," Steve said, not looking away from the kids splashing about. His lifeguard training had never really left him.
"Did you two have a good talk the other day?" Joyce poked. She had always been good at reading people. She hadn't been surprised at all when Steve came down with what she termed as fits of the sullen when Eddie had left for Chicago. Maybe it came with having Will and Jonathan as her flesh and blood; she naturally understood what was being said between the words that came from fumbling men's lips. She had certainly always understood Steve better than his mom; that was for sure.
"We sorted out most of the funeral arrangements. Eddie is good at his job."
"It doesn't take all day to do, though, does it, sweetie? " Joyce asked, not unkindly.
"Not really, no," Steve said with a sigh. "Why did none of you tell me he was back in Hawkins?"
"The same reason you never asked Dustin and Will if they had heard from him. Sometimes it's not wise to poke at open wounds in case they get infected." Joyce said as she reapplied sun cream to her arms. "A lot of things have changed in the last ten years, Steve. You have changed in the last ten years, and so has Ed. I know you never really went into what happened between the two of you, Honey, but I had eyes, and I could see what you didn't want to say."
Steve watched as Gabe raced Lewis and the redhead across the pool in some bastardised version of a breaststroke. "I know you're right, but did nobody think I might want to have known?"He asked.
"You had Gabe by the time Eddie came back. We thought you were happy with Lana." Joyce said sympathetically, handing him the sun lotion. And wasn't that the biggest kick in the nuts? They thought he was happy with Lana. Lana, with her flighty personality and her viper tongue. The mother of his child, the woman he thought he was going to spend his life with. Now, just a footnote, a chapter of his life that he wasn't able to rewrite or erase because Gabriel deserved better than that.
Just like his father.
Only his father had lived in the footnotes, avoiding the main event to the bitter end, hadn't he? Died alone and miserable.
"Joyce, do you know someone called Ethan Rodes?" He asked because the itch that had been under his skin for the last two days was only getting worse.
"Ethan…Ethan… I don't… Oh yes! Ethan." She said, tapping her wedding ring against the metal of the chair. "I haven't thought about Ethan for years; his sister used to work with me in the malt shop downtown. If I remember correctly, she moved here from Nevada when she left school to look after her grandmother. Her brother would come to her for summer break, then he moved here when he finished school. He used to own Hopper's cabin before Hopper."
"Did he spend a lot of time here?" Steve asked, not sure what he was going to get from asking these questions, but unable to stop himself from asking them.
"Not so much… Hawkins hasn't always been so accepting of people who are… different," Joyce said diplomatically. "Why are you asking about him?"
"He… Dad was … He was… A friend of my…He's mentioned in Dad's will, I didn't know who he-" Joyce pulled Steve into a hug; he knew he didn't have to say anything, that Joyce understood, she had always seen the words he couldn't say.
"Oh, Sweetheart, there were always rumours…but nobody paid them any mind. I shouldn't speak ill of the dead, so I won't. But I saw the way your father was with you, how scared you were to be yourself, Steve. It broke my heart. I hated that you went and left us to work for him; a bit of you died that day. But he's not here now. You never have to hide from us, alright? We all love you just the way you are. Your dad was an idiot for not seeing the wonderful man you have turned into, and loving you for every little bit of you."
Steve was glad he still had his Ray-Bans stuck to his face so he could maintain some of his cool and hide the tears a little better.
"You know, Hop tried his darndest in school to get me to notice him, but he was trying so hard to get out from under his dad's shadow, he wasn't anything like the Jim I love now. Oh sure, he was stupidly headstrong even back then. But he was also an idiot. A handsome idiot, but still an idiot. And lord knows if I wasn’t with Will and Jonathan's father, maybe I would have taken him up on that date. Let him shoot his shot. But if I had, I don't think we would have still been together now, because he had to grow as a person. Maybe you are meant to be here now, and so is Eddie. Maybe you needed room to grow. I saw the way you looked at him in the diner, Steve."
Steve wiped at his eyes behind his shades. "How was I looking at him?"
"The same way you used to. The same way he was looking at you. " Joyce said. "You have both grown as people, but your hearts are still the same. But what do I know, maybe I'm just a selfish old woman who wants nothing more than to keep the people I care about close. Maybe it's just a cunning plan to make it so I see my Gabriel more than just once a year. Or maybe I'm just an old romantic."
Eddie paced the apartment. He had already run his stupid plan to ask Steve to come in as a partner past Wayne, and his uncle seemed to think it was a good idea just as much as Keith had.
The other day, Steve had taken everything in his stride; nothing about Eddie's job had phased him at all. But still, something nagged at Eddie's conscience. It felt like by asking Steve to help, he was throwing away any chance at rekindling the spark that spending time with Steve had fueled.
Eddie had never stopped loving Steve. He had been in love with Steve for as long as he could remember. He had loved Steve as a person before the physical attraction had become obvious, but then it had consumed him from the inside out. But like the masochist he was, he wanted it back. He wanted Steve back. Back here in Hawkins, Steve and Gabriel and the entire life of possibility that had walked in the door not long after he thought his entire life had ended.
He already had the phone in his hand. Steve answered after a few rings.
"Hey Ed, did you need something for the funeral?" Steve asked, sounding surprised that Eddie had called at all. He began to second-guess himself. Maybe he was wrong, and the interactions the other day had just been those of two old friends.
"No, nothing like that…I was… Wayne said he would have Gabriel for the night if you wanted to go out with me."Eddie cringed. He heard Steve's breath stall on the other end of the line. He was an Idiot. What was he? Thirteen? "That is, if you wanted to go out for a drink to catch up properly."
The line was silent for a few moments; if it wasn't for the fact that Eddie could hear whatever fabric Steve was using to cover the mouthpiece of the phone, Eddie would have assumed he had hung up.
"Sorry," Steve said, and Eddie's heart dropped. " I had to check if Gabe was alright staying with Wayne, he says when can Wayne pick him up?"
Eddie let out the breath he hadn't realised he was holding. "I'm on call till 7, but I can get Wayne to come get him after work at 6? Meet you at the Hideout at 8?" Eddie said, hoping he didn't sound too desperate.
"Sure thing, Ed. It's a date. I'll see you at 8," Steve said, and Eddie's brain short-circuited at his choice of words.
"Uhm… See you later." He said, hanging up the phone with a clatter as he missed the cradle. Panic gripped him as the thought of failure started to creep in.
What was he doing?
The Hideout looked the same. The only thing that had changed was the clientele. There were significantly fewer blue-collar workers and many more middle Americans. Kev was still holding up the bar. Probably would be until the next apocalyptic event passed through Hawkins. Still, it gave Steve someone to talk to as he waited for Eddie to clock off for the day.
He took his place at the bar and caught up with the idle gossip of the town via the unofficial lead gossip himself. It was as if no time had passed at all, yet the world was a million times different now. Kev asked about Gabriel, and Steve was quick to catch him up on his proudest achievement.
"You talking about Wayne's new apprentice?" Eddie said as he slid onto the stool next to Steve.
"The one and only," Steve said, and he couldn't keep the smile off his face as he ordered Eddie a beer.
It was the first time since getting back to Hawkins that Steve had seen Eddie looking like himself. His hair was down; it hung loose and wavy around his face, framing the mischievous smile that Steve had missed so much. Gone was the professional attire, replaced with a Black Sabbath shirt that made Steve nostalgic for a time long past. He had forgone his battle vest for a red plaid shirt that he had rolled up to the elbows. His wrists were now adorned with chains and bracelets. His fingers encased in rings. This was Steve's Eddie. He hadn't changed. He had just grown.
A tattoo that Steve had never seen before poked through the ripped knee of Eddie's jeans, and Steve momentarily wondered how Eddie would react if he placed a hand there. Trace the swirling pattern across his skin. Get to know the new bits of Eddie that had found room to grow in the time they had spent apart. He resisted the urge, but his hand moved a fraction towards Eddie, egged on by Steve's hind brain.
Eddie traced the movement with his eyes, but otherwise didn’t react.
"I was thinking we could have this, then go grab some food? I can give you a guided tour of the new and improved Hawkins." Eddie said as he took the beer from Kev when the older man returned to them.
"You gonna show me where all the cool kids hang out?" Steve asked, leaning in to Eddie's space. "Show me a good time?"
Kev shook his head fondly and strategically took himself to the other end of the bar. He had been at the receiving end of Steve and Eddie's relentless flirting even before Steve had been old enough to be legally drinking in his bar.
"Sweetheart, when have I ever done anything less?" Eddie said with all his old theatrical flair, but Steve knew Eddie. Maybe not as much as he used to, but he could tell when the bravado was being used to hide something else.
Was it nerves? Had Steve joking about this being a date made Eddie feel uncomfortable? After all, even if Eddie had all but asked Steve to run away with him into the sunset, they had never actually discussed what that entailed. Steve hadn't understood the way he felt back then, and Eddie had never said anything out loud. Steve knew better than to assume. It had gotten him a black eye the last time he had trusted his gut instincts.
Still, there's nothing to stop him from testing the water. Joyce was right, his family and friends loved him for him. His heart had always wanted Eddie to be both; maybe this time it could be right.
Steve reached out and tapped the Metallica bracelet wrapped around Eddie's wrist.
"You know, I wore a Metallica shirt on a date with a guy when I moved to San-Fransisco and he dared to ask me to name three Metallica songs," Steve said, hoping that Eddie would pick up on the important part of the sentence. Steve had alluded to his sexuality the other day outside the hospital. Now he needed to make it clear. "Your shirt, come to think of it." He said with an apologetic hand wave. He had zero intentions of ever giving Eddie that shirt back. But that was also not the point. "Anyway, reciting the whole album and saying that we had seen them live in '88 was not the correct answer. " Steve said with a sigh.
He watched as Eddie processed the information; it was like watching an android in a pulp science fiction movie get a memory upgrade. Nothing, then a sudden light pinging on behind the eyes.
"Let's guess, he wanted a Madonna-loving jock?" Eddie asked, taking a swig from his beer and turning to face Steve, his tattooed knees coming to rest between Steve's own.
"Apparently, Metallica is overrated," Steve said, waiting for Eddie to do a spit take before he plodded on with his story. Eddie didn't disappoint. He wiped his mouth on the back of his hand.
"Please, tell me at least the sex was good?" He asked with a strained voice. One of Eddie's biggest tells . It only doubled down on Steve's validation that unraveling this thread was a good idea.
"Like the date got far after that blasphemy. Kind of a shame, really. He had that Trent Reznor look about him. Should have just let him blow me in the bathroom; he couldn't have said pretty boys like me were turning metal mainstream if he was sucking on my dick," Steve grumbled. Eddie, who had been midway to taking another sip of beer, righted his glass so quickly it spilled down the back of his arm. Steve reached for a paper towel to help Eddie clean some of the spill. He cleaned the back of Eddie's hand slowly before bundling up the paper and throwing it into the bin behind the bar.
"I mean, you are a pretty boy, and you're still a jock. It is a shame I corrupted you with the devil's music." Eddie said, squeezing his hand. His voice had not quite returned to its normal tone. Eddie looked down at their hands, more programming being downloaded to that android mind for him to process.
"I mean, I think you corrupted me in general, Ed's, but you can't take all the credit," Steve said as he played with one of Eddie's rings. "I was already halfway there on my own. Would have caught up eventually."
"How about now? I couldn't slow down to let you catch up back then." Eddie said carefully, voice calmer now. "But I think the final destination could be the same place after all?"
"Didn't think it would be Hawkins," Steve said.
"This life has a way of surprising us." Eddie took hold of his beer. "Am I safe to drink this, or should I just pour it down my shirt now and have done with it before you make any more earth-shattering revelations?" Eddie asked, raising his drink in question.
"Nothing that's sutable to be shared in a public place, finish that. Then we can get the tour of Hawkins 2.0 on the road." Steve said, throwing a few notes down on the counter to pay for the drinks and then some. "Show me what I missed out on."
Eddie had to admit he felt a little like he was trying to navigate the world through slow-moving molasses. His brain felt fuzzy after Steve's little revelation. Honestly, he wasn't totally sure how he didn't pop a boner in the Hideout like some sort of sex crazed teenager. He wasn't ashamed to say his possessive streak had raised its hackles at the idea of Steve getting head while wearing something that belonged to Eddie. It purred with pride at the fact that it hadn't happened because of Eddie's musical influences. It had taken a few moments for Eddie's brain to get back online over the whole thing; he wasn't entirely sure that the whole world couldn't hear the scratching of the modem trying to pick up signs of life down the line.
Every time Steve brushed against him, he could feel the syrupy wave of contentment washing over him. The walk through town was going to give him diabetes.
Eddie had liked the hot librarian look Steve's glasses brought to the table, but something was comforting in seeing Steve's hair flopping down and obstructing his eyes when he didn't have them on. He looked more like the Steve that Eddie remembered. Just MORE. He had filled out in all the places that mattered, and the worry lines around his eyes had changed to laugh lines at some point. Maybe at the same time Steve left the family business and found himself? That was a conversation for another day. Hopefully, they might get to have it before Steve had to go running back to San-fransisco.
As they walked, they talked. Steve spoke of moving to San-fransisco and his life as a full-time dad. Eddie caught Steve up on the rest of Corroded Coffin, getting his degree, and how weird it was to be a respected part of the community.
Eddie stopped at shops and businesses downtown. Explained all the flyers and posters about the annual festivals and gatherings that now took place on the green outside of the library, and just how competitive Hop had gotten at bowling since Joyce had set up a league a few years ago.
"Obviously, the BowlJobs have walked home with the title the last few years, and Hopper will eternally be salty over it. But the Bowlingstones don't have what it takes to be god like on the lanes." Eddie said as they walked through the park and took a seat side by side on a merry-go-round.
"Did you name the teams by any chance?" Steve said, laughing and using his feet to push them around in circles.
"Believe it or not, no. That was all, Wayne. Man holds his own in the bad dad puns department," He said, resting himself further into Steve's side as the merry-go-round spun them round and round. "You trying to make me throw up, Harrington?" He asked as Steve pushed his trainers through the churned-up dust.
"I mean, you already spilled your beer all over yourself. Vomit would just make it a party," Steve said as he brought the spinning to a stop. Eddie's head crashed into Steve's shoulder. He took a moment to appreciate the warmth coming from Steve's skin. Tried not to look like a creep as he tried to breathe in Steve's aftershave. Knew fine well he failed.
"Still weird," Steve mused, looking down at him. Eddie replied with the only thing he could think of, a Cheshire cat grin and an overly dramatic tumble onto the dirt floor. He jumped back to his feet and wiped the dust from his knees.
"The weirdest." He said with a bow, holding his hand out to pull Steve to his feet.
They walked to Benny's, not that it was Benny's anymore. It was now Pizzaboy and was just as busy as the diner had been the other night.
Eddie pushed the door open and helped Steve through the door with a hand on the bottom of his back. Steve wanted more, wanted that unabashed touch that Eddie had been bestowing on him in the park, but knew that even if Hawkins had changed in his absence, it was still not a good idea to act like that around the general population. Still, he pressed back into Eddie's touch as he entered the brightly lit pizzeria, just to savour it for a few moments longer.
People greeted Eddie as they walked the aisle, trying to find a booth. Eddie hadn't been exaggerating; from the bright smiles and cheerful hellos, Steve could see Eddie was far from the outcast that had run from a braying mob. They were lay wayed by someone calling Eddie over to talk to him about some community fundraiser. In his mind, Steve knew Eddie had to have earned the respect of the town over time, but he hadn't realised just how much till he saw Eddie talking to that guy and his 2.4 children. He was talking to Eddie like he was an equal, even when he was dressed like he was about to go throw a three-day bender at Lollapalooza.
"Sorry, Gary thinks the town council is the be-all and end-all of the community," Eddie said as he tugged Steve towards a booth that had become available.
"Right up there with the homeowners association?" Steve asked as he slid into the booth after Eddie. He didnt want to loose that closness they had in the park. He pulled himslef to the the back of the booth, pressing himself against Eddie under the pretense they could look out at the good people of Hawkins so Eddie could point out new faces.
Half a second later, the server was at the table asking Eddie if he wanted two of the usual. It was customer service that his poor, dead dad could never have instilled in his workforce. Remembering each customer's favourite order was far below the compression of Dick Harrington.
Eddie picked up the conversation like he hadn't even been interrupted, "Would it surprise you if I told you he was the chair of HOA too?" He asked, full attention back on Steve.
"Is he also in the PTA?" Steve asked, amused that such a mundane subject was making him happy.
"'Course he is," Eddie said, leaning in conspiratorially and getting right into Steve's space. "I dunno if he has the concept of a night off scheduled into his carefully laid plans."
"You're one to talk. Aren't you always on call? Permanent night shift?" Steve asked with genuine curiosity as someone approached the table. He stupidly assumed it was the server with the drinks that Eddie had ordered. He was so very wrong.
"Not for much longer, right, Munson?" The last voice Steve had expected to hear tonight asked. Eddie's expression soured seconds.
"There goes my good night… what do you want, Hagan? Didn't make my life miserable enough this week?" Eddie asked, making space between him and Steve as he turned to Tommy. The man was attempting to look intimidating by looming over them. It might have worked if Tommy didn’t still look like an over-grown cabbage patch kid.
"I know I told you to find financial backing. Didn't think you would stoop as low as trying to bed Harrington again to do it." Tommy said. Steve's reaction must have been the one he was looking for because that self importantant smirk crept across his freckled face.
Steve felt confused, but it wasn't the first time; it wasn’t even the first time today.
"Oh, he didn’t tell you?" Tommy asked, ignoring Eddie to address Steve, "The bank won't back his corporate takeover. I guess money can't buy you happiness."
"I dunno. Me and Carol have the same fancy physiotherapist. He definitely makes me happy." Eddie bit back. "I know he makes Carol very happy indeed."
"Don't you dare talk about Carol. Freak." Tommy spat back. Steve had to slap his hand down on Eddie's knee to stop him vaulting the table to get to Tommy.
"Tommy, I'm in town to bury my dad. Can we not do this right now? Either sit your ass down and join us like grown-ups or get lost." Steve said through gritted teeth.
"Should have known you still had the freak on a leash Stevie. Down boy sit." Tommy said, clicking his tongue for good measure as if calling a dog to heel. Under the table, Steve felt Eddie fight agaist the restraint on his leg.
"Hagan," Steve warned, gripping down a little tighter on Eddies knee, "Leave it."
Tommy held his gaze across the table. "I'll see you at the funeral then I guess."
"You aren't invited," Steve said, meeting his gaze.
"When has that ever stopped me before?" Tommy said as he looked away, admitting defeat. Unable to fight his own battles like the second in command he'd been born to be. Steve momentarily wondered who it was Tommy jumped to attention for now, then realised he didn’t care.
Around them, the other diners were watching the free entertainment. The server from earlier was already heading towards them to intervene.
"Hey Joey, can we get the pizza to go?" Eddie asked as Tommy huffed at the indignation of someone interfering with his rant.
"Yeah, no problem, Mr Munson." Joey said, turning to Tommy. "Mr Hagan, I need you to go take a seat or we will have to ask you to leave."
"Its fine, I was going anyway." Tommy snapped, turning tail and storming out of the brightly lit pizzeria and into the night.
Steve waited a few moments before releasing his grip on Eddie's knee. "What was he on about?" He asked quietly, well aware that other patrons were still watching them with curiosity.
"Tommy works for the bank that turned down my request to buy out Gare's dad. Said they couldn't with all good consciousness back me when I couldn't prove where my investment had come from." Eddie said, fidgeting violently with the rings on his fingers. "That dick knows fine well where it comes from."
Steve wanted to punch Tommy on Eddie's behalf. "What did he mean about…"
"Sleeping with you to get the bank on side? Yeah well, your family name opens doors that my trailer trash moniker does not. It's just Hagan getting another dig in." Eddie said, grabbing his wallet and tipping for the pizza generously, more than likely to make up for the scene that had just interrupted everyone's night. It was a far cry from the Eddie that used to go on a rant and rave at the earliest inconvenience. Steve muttered a heartfelt apology to the server as he followed Eddie out the door.
The air had turned a little cooler since they had been in the pizza place. It helped to cool both of their tempers somewhat.
The night had been going so well until Tommy and his stupid mouth had come along. Now Eddie was on edge, and an on edge Eddie was hard to get back down off the proverbial ledge. Didn't mean that Steve wasn’t going to try. He really wanted to chase that buzz that he had found when they were spinning the night away on the merry-go-round.
"Can't believe Carol married him." Steve said as they started walking, Eddie carrying the pizza like it was the only thing keeping him grounded.
"Yeah, well somebody had too. She totally knows he's been picking up tricks in gay bars in Indy too. She's not stupid. Unlike Tommy, Carol doesn't have a stick up her ass. We actually talk. I wouldn't call us friends, but she's not still living in the stone ages like Hagan. I wasn’t joking about the physio either. That's why Tommy flipped." Eddie said as he came to a stop at the entrance to the car park. "Apparently my devil worshipping ways keep tempting away the people he cares about. He's deliberately taken on my application at the bank, just to get revenge on me. I don't care what Wayne says. I know he did. Like its my fault Carol is fucking Pedro the Physio. Not that I blame the woman. Pedro can bend me into any position he wants."
Steve laughed, and it seemed that was all it took to blow the last of Eddies anger away.
"Laugh all you want. But you haven't seen him. I swear he should be on the TV. He's some sort of movie star or something. A damn sight better than Tommy Fucking Hagan." Eddie said, the agitation at Tommy starting to evaparate into the haze of the night.
"Suppose Tommy's an acquired taste." Steve said with a shrug. "I like them a bit more…eclectic."
"What's that supposed to mean?" Eddie asked, still not movig from where he had stopped at the edge of the car park.
"I like the weirdos," Steve said, chosing his words carefully, holding Eddie's gaze with deliberate intent. "I like the Freaks."
Steve's words hit as intended. After a moment, Eddie smiled sheepishly across the pizza box. "Wanna come back to mine and eat this and watch some absolutely shit movie? I have cable now… cable I pay for and everything!"
"Well, you are rolling in dead people's money, I hope you at least have Nickelodeon." Steve said, trying to steal a bit of pizza from the box, Eddie snapped the box away from him playfully.
"I can do you one better, I have the sci-fi channel, how does that sound? … nerd."
"Sounds like Tommy did us a favour." Steve said, starting to walk towards the funeral home. "Whatever you do, don't tell Gabe we had pizza with dead people we won't ever hear the end of it."
"That’s Donald Plesence, he's basically and old baby." Eddie laughed, placing the two beers he had just brought from the fridge on the coffee table, "He's also an onion, and very funky."
"Spend a lot of time watching Mystery Science Theater, do we?" Steve asked, ashamed that he knew each and every one of the refrences that Eddie had just made. He wasn't about to admit that he was just as enamoured with this program as Eddie was.
"I spend a lot of time on the satellite of love,Mst3k is an institution. Gotta do something when your waiting for the next person to drop down dead." Eddie said, getting comfortable and closer now that the empty pizza box had been cast to one side, along with the pineapple that Steve had picked off on principal.
Here, behind closed doors Steve felt no need to hold back. Emboldened by the couple of beers they now had under their belt, he reached out and finally got his hand on Eddies knee, pulling at the frayed edges of the hole in his jeans. Eddie moved closer, the sagging couch helping gravity fill the gap.
"I dunno about you, but if I was kidnapped and marooned on a space station, I would not be making myself a robot that had the same attitude problem as Dusty bun," he said, attention now firmly on Eddie and not the adventures of Pumaman unfolding on the screen.
Eddie rest his head on Steve's shoulder, curls tickling at Steve's neck as he turned his head up to look at him. "Are we talking about Crow or Tom Servo?" He asked.
"Tom obviously. Crow has people skills, something Dustin still hasn't managed to learn." Steve answered, aware that the two of them might as well just be cuddling at this point. He chanced his luck by sliding his other hand around Eddie's back. Part of him wondered if this was a stupid idea. Eddie raised an eyebrow in question, and at Steve answering eye roll, Eddie laughed, burying his head into Steve's neck. When he pulled back, that stupid mischievous grin was on Eddies face again. The one that Steve had fallen in love with a million times.
"I really want to kiss you," Steve said the quiet part loud. His inside voice took over. Eddie didn't even blink.
"Then do it." Eddie challenged.
"But what if it's a bad idea?" Steve asked, nose already brushing Eddie's.
"Then it's an excellent bad idea. Executed in the slowest way possible." Eddie said, nuzzling in closer, his hand coming up to cradle Steve's cheek, burning like a brand along the scars left from the Upside Down and their time apart. "Because you should have done this 10 years ago."
"Well your the one that said you couldn't slow down. How about now? Happy to let me catch up?" Steve asked, trying to focus on Eddie face ,but this close it was almost impossible.
"I think the train's completely derailed at Harrington station," Eddie said, nose bumping Steve's. "The bad idea express is waiting for recovery."
"You comparing us to a train crash?" Steve asked.
"Aren't we ?" Eddie asked. "Everything we are is built out of chaos, Stevie, why would it be any diffrent now? Nothing else has ever compared to it." He said, the words leaving trails of breath across Steve's lips.
"Can't believe you're going to kiss me with pineapple breath," Steve said, leaning in even closer.
"You're still gonna kiss me though, aren't you?" Eddie joked nervously. Steve could feel the puffed exhale on his tongue. Taste the beer on Eddie's breath in his own inhale.
Eddie was so close. It would be stupid to stop now, a far stupider idea than not kissing Eddie at all.
Stupid but not bad.
Not the way his dad had tried to drive home to him time and time and time again.
Eddie was waiting, waiting for Steve to make the move, to catch up. He let out a huff of mirth as their lips finally touched, something that Steve couldn't help but smile into. Eddie kissed him back slowly, as if testing, making sure that Steve was certain. It wasn't what Steve had been expecting; he always imagined his first kiss with Eddie to be all-consuming, every bit of his personality personified in the action. But this was tentative, almost as if Eddie was scared Steve was going to bolt at the first chance he got. The grip Eddie had on his face was a direct contrast to the tenderness in his lips as they pressed against Steve's. Steve wanted more. Wanted to taste Eddie. Crawl into him, and see if it fixed that hollow emptiness that had haunted him for the last decade. But every time Steve tried to heat things up, tried to deepen the kiss, Eddie slowed them back down.
"Ed?" Steve asked, pulling away slightly.
"Yeah?" Eddie's voice was broken, almost as if he couldn't control his own thoughts. Steve wasn't far behind him in that department.
"Stop holding back, I'm not going to run." He said gently.
"Not holding back," Eddie said with a huff, stealing a quick kiss from Steve's lips, "Savouring the moment." Another quick peck to Steve's lips. "Waited long enough, but if you want more, who am I to deny you anything, Sweetheart?"
With that, Eddie moved quickly, swinging his leg over Steve and pressing him into the sofa with his full body weight. Steve let out a small squeak of surprise at being manhandled so easily. Eddie's face had changed; that softness had shifted. Steve had only seen this look on Eddie post-gig, when adrenaline was pumping and it had nowhere to go. To have it turned directly on him now was all-consuming.
Eddie leaned in closer, running his lips along the line of Steve's neck and placing a soft kiss against the pulse point just under his ear. Steve wondered if Eddie could feel the blood racing through his veins. Wished that Eddie would just press down—feel the effect that he was having on Steve. How he wanted to be consumed by all that was Eddie Munson.
"So, can you name three Metallica songs?" Eddie whispered in his ear, a hint of lust lining the question with intent.
Steve nodded.
"The singles don't count," Eddie said, running a hand up Steve's neck and cupping the back of his head, forcing Steve to turn and look at him. It felt like every stupid game they had played back in rehab, with the intensity turned to full. Steve felt his brain fog, unable to focus on anything but the way Eddie was grabbing him, claiming him.
"For Whom The Bell Tolls," Steve said, mouth dry and hoping that the answer was good. It was. He got a nod from Eddie, and a tug on the hair at the nape of his neck.
"The Unforgiven 2," Steve said, and Eddie pressed down on his lap, grinding down and giving Steve what he was desperate for, but just the one. Steve let out a whine of complaint at the loss of contact.
"You can't have that one. It's technically the second part of Unforgiven, and that was a-"
"Okay then," Steve said with a frustrated whine, "King Nothing… That wasn't a single. Are you satisfied?" Steve said, choosing his words deliberately. He grabbed Eddie by the waist, dragging him back down onto his lap.
Eddie grinned down at him. That look of wanton mischief was back as he grabbed Steve by the hair again and forced their lips together, hungry this time. It was everything Steve wanted. "I see what you did there, King Nothing… am I satisfied…song lyrics…such a nerd," he said between kisses when he came up for air.
Steve bit at Eddie's bottom lip then, pleased that he was getting exactly what he wanted by playing along with Eddie's game. Eddie deepened the kiss, pushing him forcefully into the back of the sofa, a fight for control of the situation that Steve was more than willing to give up as soon as he had his fill.
He wanted more. He pushed the flannel from Eddie's shoulders, let his hands run along the exposed skin as his grip returned to Eddie's waist. He was just about to shove Eddie's t-shirt up and try and get his hands and lips on the tattoos that had teased him and been part of his fantasies for the last twelve years, when Eddie pulled away.
Eddie grabbed Steve's hands and held them between them.
"Ah, Ah, Ah, Steve, I said three songs," He cocked his head to the side, looking smug. "Unforgiven didn't count."
Steve blinked up at him, brain even foggier than it was a moment before. His brain searched for any song that would get him what he wanted.
"Loverman!" He blurted. The image of Eddie had come to his mind the first time he heard it, and it came to his mind now that the vision of Eddie was all that Steve could see.
"'Cause I am what I am, what I am." Eddie sang quietly, the grin on his face growing as he released his grip on Steve's hands. Steve pulled his shirt over his head before doing the same to Eddie, desperate to get skin-on-skin contact and feel Eddie's scars under his hand, to prove to himself that this wasn't just another dream. He didn't get a chance to look. Eddie was back on him the instant his shirt was over his head, forcing his way in, kissing Steve like his life depended on it. wandering hands tugging and pulling as the two of them made up for lost time. This was what kissing Eddie had been like in Steve's dreams, and it was better in real life. They kissed for the sake of kissing until Steve's hands wandered towards Eddie's belt. Eddie jerked back as if shocked.
"Okay?" Steve asked, searching Eddie's face for any sign of distress, hoping he hadn't just spoiled everything by being too eager.
"Fine, I just don't want to rush things, Sweetheart. As much as I want to take you to bed and make you forget your name… It would be shitty of me to do right now."
"What if I want that?" Steve asked, trying hard not to feel rejected. No matter how much Eddie's words made sense, no matter how he wanted to chase that bliss that had been at the tips of his fingers seconds before.
"Then we have all the time in the world," Eddie said, lifting Steve's chin and placing a gentle kiss on his swollen lips. "I'm not going anywhere."
The TV droned on in the background as Steve took a moment to take in Eddie above him. Eddie must still be working out. His body was defined in a way Steve hadn't expected. Eddie had always had strong arms, but now the rest of him matched. No wonder he made carting dead bodies around look easy.
His chest had been the worst hit by the bats in the Upside Down; it was clear to see that it was where the vast majority of Eddie's new artwork was centered. Steve ran his fingers over the vines and twisted flower petals, eerily similar to the creatures that had scarred him in the first place, morbid and beautiful just as everything about Eddie's new life was.
"Finally stopped getting tattooed in Frank's basement?" Steve asked, tracing his finger over the space where Eddie's left nipple should be, long gone to the Demobats. Eddie didn't answer, his own eyes glued to something on Steve's chest.
"You stole my bat," Eddie muttered to himself as he traced the letters of Gabriel's name etched on skin above Steve's heart, the I topped with one of the same stylised bats that still adorned Eddie's arm.
"Figured it would keep my son safe. The same way you kept us safe." Steve said gently, aware that something had changed. The heat from before had frizzled out.
"Did it work?" Eddie asked, voice soft and reverent.
"In a way." Steve traced the bats on Eddie's arm, "It helped ground me. Gave me that kick up the ass whenever I saw it in the mirror, what would Eddie do…" He looked up at Eddie again; the man was hanging on his words. He turned his attention back to Eddies tattoo,"Gabe spotted them the other day, when we first got here, I think he recognised them. Maybe my dad recognized them, too. He always hated that bat. Hated the tattoo, but he really had it in for the bat. Ranted about me being beyond this childish shit, that I was supposed to be the face of the company, and yet I cling to sentimental nonsense. Yet, out of all the undertakers, he chose this one to look after him in death. Picked you to look after him in death." Steve shook his head. "I'm just seeing patterns."
Eddie swiped his finger under Steve's eye; he hadn’t even realised he was crying.
"You think your dad was trying to make amends?"
"I think my dad dying has left me with more questions than I ever thought possible." Steve sighed, all the pent-up mixed emotions of the night crashing into him at once. He yawned, and Eddie climbed off his knee, offering him a hand.
"Come on, bedtime. Have you actually slept at all this week?" Eddie asked, pulling him up from the sofa.
"Not much, I should be going home…" Steve said, looking for where his shirt had landed when he had tossed it earlier.
"Don't be silly, you're staying here," Eddie said, ducking behind the sofa and grabbing Steve's lost clothing.
"I don't think-"
"I have a spare room, Steve. I promise I won't take advantage of your virtue, as much as I really want to. I'm a grown-up now, don’t you know." Steve looked around the room at the walls of books and toys and action figures, at the fridge filled with photos and the guitar hanging pride of place between it all.
"Yeah. I see that." Steve said with a chuckle.
"For that, you don't get to use the Garfield mug; you are relegated to Snoopy," Eddie said, walking to the kitchen and opening the cabinet above the sink. He pulled down a box full of smaller boxes. He rummaged around them till he found what he was looking for before filling the threatened Snoopy mug with water and walking back to Steve. He offered him one white pill and one drink to wash it down with.
"What is it ?" Steve asked wearily. It had been a long time since Steve had partaken in anything illegal.
"Melatonin. A sleeping tablet, I stopped all that other stuff a long time ago. Well, apart from the occasional joint once in a blue moon. You look exhausted, Stevie. I need you to rest. Gabriel needs you to rest." Eddie said, pressing the pill into Steve's hand. "Let us help. Please."
Steve popped the pill and downed the water. It was worth it just to see Eddie relax. "Happy?"
"Ecstatic, now let's get you to bed," Eddie said, taking his hand and leading him down the hallway. They paused outside the first door. Eddie opened it with a flourish, flicking on the light. "This is you, I'm just across the hall if you need me."
When Steve didn't move to go into the room, Eddie leaned forward, taking Steve's face in his hands. "Stevie, you have to sleep," he said before kissing Steve softly. "Get to bed, there are spare clothes in the dresser if you need to borrow some."
Steve nodded once, sleep starting to creep up on him. He took one step towards the bed before turning and facing Eddie again, pulling him in by the waist till they stood chest to chest, he leaned in to initiate another kiss, deeper and more possesive this time, as if making sure that Eddie knew he meant business.
When they broke apart, Eddie was flushed, face red all the way up to the ears.
"G'night, Ed. Sweet dreams." Steve said as he walked backwards to the bed, he might have agreed to not go any further tonight but it didnt mean he had to play fair.
"I'm sure they will be," Eddie said, retreating to the door, adjusting himself in his pants. He stood in the doorway watching as Steve stripped off his jeans and crawled into the bed.
"Night, Steve," Eddie said as he flicked the light off and pulled the door closed.
Steve couldn't answer him; sleep took him before his head even hit the pillow.
Chapter Text
Steve woke slowly. He was accustomed to waking up in new places; it had been part of his job for his entire time with the family company. Still, waking up and knowing dead bodies were in the basement was a new one, even for him. He was surprised he had fallen asleep at all; last night had been a lot. If it wasn't for the fact that the sunlight was peeking around unusual shutters and almost blinding him, he would have been convinced it had been some sort of fever dream.
But no, he was in Eddie's guest room, and because he had stupidly slept in his contact lenses, he could see all the signs of the other man integrated into the walls around him. Eddie had been using the room as a makeshift workspace. His old musical equipment, piled near the door, was gathering dust. Nothing like his beloved Sweetheart that stood in pride of place in the living area. On the desk by the window sat half-decorated minifigures; a stack of D&D manuals sat next to them, with various colored post-it notes sticking out at odd angles, as erratic as the mind of the man who had stuck them there.
It was reassuring in a way to see something so unapologetically Eddie. He was starting to worry that the Eddie he had stupidly let slip away had evaporated like the misty haze that had descended on Hawkins last night.
Steve couldn't work out what time it was; the sun still seemed low in the sky, and it could be any time before noon. Though he did know it was later than he would normally sleep. Raching out, he pawed for his cellphone, curious to see what time the blinking icon heralded.
He was distracted before he got a chance to read the time.
From Robin: 07.24 am: wtf do you mean ur still in love with Eddie! You can't just drop that on me. Where did this come from? Code red, call me!!!!!!!!!!!
Oh, he was in trouble if Robin had almost hit the character count with exclamation marks.
Steve pulled his cell to his ear and pressed call.
It went straight to voicemail. He checked the time, 9.42 am. Robin was probably in the air again on her way to Hawkins. It was only a matter of time before he had to explain EVERYTHING. Easier said than done, when he wasn't sure what the hell was going on himself.
But first, he had to deal with whatever this morning was going to throw at him.
Was Eddie going to pretend like they hadn’t gotten to know each other almost biblically last night? Had it just been the ghost of what they were, once upon a time, making itself known? Steve wasn't an idiot. He knew better than to hope. Hope was for people who deserved it. Yet as he blinked his eyes a few times to try and get the contact lenses currently glued to his eyes to move, his vision landed on one of the many photos dotting the walls. It was Eddie and Steve at some bar, a gig by the look of Eddie's outfit. A candid photo taken by god knows who, both of them hanging off each other, beer in hand. Steve's face was scrunched up in amusement, and Eddie's head was thrown back mid-laugh. There was no missing the look of adoration on either of their faces.
It was just as telling in this photo as it had been in the ones of his father and Ethan, found shoved in a box in his father's safe.
Somewhere in the depths of Eddie's apartment, the sound of laughter rang out and shook him from his recollections.
Steve followed the noise down the hallway, the sound of talking rising over the morning weather that droned on from the TV in the corner.
"You gotta put a bit of a twist in your wrist or they flop before they flip, little man." Eddie's voice carried with a chuckle on his breath.
"This is the first time I've tried!" Gabriel's voice said grumpily, shocking Steve to no end. He thought that Gabriel was still at Wayne's. Why was he-
"Dad! Look at me, I'm making breakfast!" Gabe yelled on seeing him walk around the corner. Sure enough, Eddie had pulled a chair up to the counter, and an unholy mess of eggs and flour mapped the trail of destruction to the stove top, where the world's most crispy pancake currently sat forlorn in the pan, singed around the edges.
It would appear that, like Steve's feelings for Eddie, some things had never changed. The man was still a hopeless chef.
"I think with Gabriel's cooking skills, I might put him to work down on the crematori. It takes skills to be this good at burning something," Eddie said with a wink. "Coffee's brewed, creamers in the fridge," Eddie said as he guided Gabriel through the steps of flipping his burned offering. It was just as charred on the other side. Eddie must have clocked the look of confusion at the scene of domestic bliss currently taking place in Eddie's living space. The man stepped away from his sous chef for a moment to speak to Steve in a low tone, never quite moving out of grabbing distance of Gabe should he fall.
"Wayne had to go help Hop. We got some urban explorers poking around up at the Creel place. Bunch of ghouls should just keep out of it, but with the internet and all the reality TV shows they churn out these days, they won't leave it damn alone. I wish they would just let us level the place. They went to Chrissy's grave too. Screwed up her flowers. Wayne hates it when they do that." Eddie didn't have to add the fact that he did too; Steve could hear it in his voice. The weight of Chrissy's death still haunted him. Steve wanted to ask more, to know more about what else Eddie had been putting up with since he came back and made a life for himself in a town that had wanted him dead. He didn't get a chance to ask. Eddie had turned his attention back to Gabe, plastering a forced smile on his face so that the kid wouldn't pick up on the discomfort he was feeling.
"Dad, do you want me to make you a pancake?" Gabe asked enthusiastically as he helped Eddie slide the current burnt offering onto a plate with a clunk. Steve was pretty sure pancakes weren't supposed to break porcelain, but he wouldn't be surprised if Eddie's plate now had a chip in it.
"Maybe we should try something a little easier than pancakes?" Steve asked as he grabbed Eddie's cup from the counter on his way past, and then found the cup he had abandoned last night on the side of the sink.
"But Eddie said we could have pancakes!" Gabriel protested.
"And Eddie never could make pancakes, and by the look of it, he still can't," Steve said as he busied himself preparing his drink to his liking.
"Gabe, your dad is just jealous that he can never meet our superior culinary skills," Eddie said with his trademark flourish.
"You would be more convincing if the pan wasn't about to catch on fire," Steve said with a smirk over the top of his vanilla-sweet coffee.
Eddie course-corrected a curse from a fuck to a 'fudge' as he plunged the smoking pan into the soapy sink. "Alright, I can’t make pancakes, but I can cook a mean barbecue."
"I mean, you get plenty of practice." Steve joked as he handed Eddie his coffee, hoping that the man still took it with the same ungodly amount of sugar. If what Steve had seen in the last few days was to be an indication, he was probably right. Eddie's fingers lingered where they connected with Steve's, and he held Steve's gaze in his own. It made the butterflies in Steve's stomach go crazy.
"How about we have these," Eddie lifted his cup in a salute, "and we take a walk into town? The bakery makes some nice croissants. My treat."
"I doubt they are as good as my Uncle Maurice's," Gabe said with a grunt of complaint.
" Well, Uncle Maurice is French. So he was already an expert pastry chef by the time he was your age, wasn't he?" Steve said, helping his son get down from the chair he was still standing on, and helping him wipe off the flour handprints that were on each of his son's knees. "Buying breakfast might be a better idea than burning down Eddie's house and place of work in one fell swoop."
"I like Eddie's house. I like Uncle Wayne's house too, he has so many hats!" Gabe said as he rushed to the front door to pull his sneakers on. "I suppose I can have another croissant, as long as it has chocolate in it. Hurry up, Dad. Eddie, when can I stop at your house? Dad stopped at your house. It would be super cool to stay in a house with dead bodies."
Beside him, Eddie chuckled to himself.
"What?"
"He's got so many questions, does he have an off switch?" Eddie asked, reaching out and taking Steve's mug from him to place it next to Eddie's now abandoned one on the counter. He moved closer, one hand coming to rest on Steve's hip. "Or is he like his dad and once you get him going, you get no rest until he runs out of battery or you make him rest?"
The weight of Eddie's hand on him was almost claiming, it was as if he were trying to make it clear to Steve that last night wasn't just a lapse in anyone's judgment. It gave Steve confidence to lean in a little closer, within reason. He was still well aware that Gabriel was probably watching them both with the scrutinising eyes of a child.
"In my defence, it's been a long week and I've travelled through several time zones. My battery had to run out at some point." Steve wanted to get closer, but knew better than to instigate anything further in front of little mouths that still hadn't learned the art of decorum. He settled on covering Eddie's fingers with his own and giving a little squeeze. "Talking of time zones, Robin is back in ours."
"You spoke to the other half, have you?" Eddie asked with a chuckle, carefully moving away from Steve. Gabe's ears had perked up at the sound of Robin's name. He was now watching them both, far too intently not to notice something.
"She sent me a text this morning. I tried to call her, but it went straight to voicemail, so she must be back in the air." Steve explained, walking over to his son to retrieve his shoes from beside the door.
"Is Auntie Robin gonna stop at Grandad's with us? Do you think she will get in the pool with me? Because you won't. "
Eddie joined them, lacing up his boots. "Your dad doesn't like the pool, you shouldn't make him feel bad about not liking something, everyone's different," Eddie said not unkindly.
"Sorry, Dad," Gabe muttered, feeling told off nonetheless.
"It's fine," Steve said, unsure how he felt about Eddie telling Gabriel off like that. But Eddie had always spoken up when he saw something he didn't agree with, hadn't he? Just because Gabe was only 6 didn't mean it was any different.
"So Robin is coming home? When should I expect the Spanish Inquisition?" Eddie asked as he locked the door behind them and led them down the stairs into the reception of the funeral home.
"I can't tell you that. Nobody should ever expect it." Steve said with a chuckle, "But I would expect you to have to face the music at some point." Steve said as Gabe ran ahead to say hello to Harry, who was just leaving the office as they entered the hall. The older man gave Steve and Eddie a curious look, but said nothing about them descending the stairs from the apartment above, or the fact that Steve was still wearing the same shirt as he had seen him in the night before when they had passed him in Surfer Boy.
"Hey Harry, you alright being on call today?" Eddie asked as they caught up to Gabe.
"Sure, kid. Everything alright?" Harry asked.
"Yeah, just wanted to spend a bit of time with Steve and Gabriel while they're here, that's all."
"We burned breakfast, so Eddie is buying us pretend French food," Gabe said, failing to hide his amusement.
"Is that so?" Harry chuckled, slipping Gabe a dollar and winking at Steve as he straightened up. "You can steal him till lunch time, but then I have an appointment at the old people's home," Harry said to Steve.
"Wayne called. Do you want daisies or sunflowers for Chrissy?" He asked Eddie, who in turn looked at Steve, almost ashamed. Steve didn't think Eddie had anything to be ashamed of or self-conscious about. He knew Eddie felt he carried the blame for the woman's death, even if he had nothing to do with it. It had been inevitable.
"Both," Eddie answered.
"And can you send up some yellow roses from me, please? Add all of it to my bill." Steve said, wanting Eddie to know he wasn't alone in his grief.
They were halfway to town before Eddie spoke again; they had both been listening to Gabe prattle on about Pokémon as the two of them walked side by side, not quite touching, a few steps behind the Pokémon master.
"You don't have to pay for the flowers."
"But I'm going to. None of us deserved what we went through, but this town didn't care what anyone deserved, did it? It just chewed us up and spit us out. But it's healed. Or it's healed as best it can when people keep wanting to dig up the ghosts of the past. You don't deserve that, I don't deserve that… but Chrissy? She was just scared. Being scared shouldn't have been her downfall." Steve swung his hand, capturing Eddie's in his own. He held it for a moment before letting go, not stupid enough to think Hawkins had changed that much just yet."Plus, I'm rich, remember? What does it matter what I throw my money at?"
"Your money doesn't impress me, Harrington," Eddie said with a smirk. The warmth had returned to his eyes, and Steve felt pleased with himself for getting it there.
"Nothing impresses you, Munson," Steve said as they caught up to Gabriel at the crossing. The kid had already spotted the bakery and was zoned in on the cakes in the window.
"I dunno, I was impressed with your self-control last night." Eddie grinned at him. Steve felt himself flush and whacked Eddie in the arm.
"Not in front of the kid," Steve warned.
"I wouldn't dream of it, but we do need to talk. After the funeral?" Eddie asked hopefully.
"After the funeral." Steve agreed, and that little sprout of hope took root.
From:Robin: 11.37 pm: Call me NOW.
Steve excused himself from where Eddie and Gabe were violently chasing each other with sticks through the park. He mouthed Robin's name and shook his phone to explain where he was going. Eddie nodded once before turning his full attention back to Gabriel. The two of them were getting on so well, it was as if they had known each other the entirety of Gabe's short life.
Steve knew he had to get Eddie alone; they had to talk about last night. But Gabe seemed determined to stick to Eddie like glue.
Steve waited till he was far enough away from the chaos before pressing the call button. It only rang once before Robin picked up.
"Dingus… what the hell?" She screamed down the line.
"I take it you're landed in Chicago?" He said with an amused snort at her outrage.
"Yes, I'm just sorting out a rental now… and so is Lana. So you know … that's a thing that's happening, I could share a car with her, but you already have one dead body to be dealing with. Just be impressed they let me back in the country, and I didn’t murder her at thirty thousand feet." Robin snorted at her own gallows humour. "But that's not the point… I repeat … what the hell, dingus! Why have your supposedly buried feelings for Munson come out of that nuclear bunker you had them trapped in?"
"He's here, Rob. In Hawkins."
"He's what?" She yelped down the phone
"Here in Hawkins, he's currently fighting to the death with swords over the last fondant fancy with Gabriel," Steve said, watching as Gabe threw this stick away and ducked under Eddie's arm in an act of sporting prowess that Steve was surprised came from his son. Gabe avoided sports at all costs. He took after his mother in that respect.
"Why is Eddie in Hawkins? Why are you hanging out with Eddie in… two seconds, Steve, the rental desk wants me… what? Yes, it's Steve…Oh, for god's sake…" The sound of the phone changing hands was all Steve could make out.
"Steve, Robin appears to be more irritated than usual. Should I be concerned? Mon ami?" Lana asked in a tiered drawl down the line.
"No, she just gets cranky when she needs sleep. Are you driving straight down with her?" He asked for his amusement.
"I would rather consume my own pickled liver and wash it down with some cheap Californian bastardisation of wine than share a car with that woman." Lana scoffed, and Steve could picture the death glares that she would be shooting towards Robin from behind the sunglasses that rarely left her face. He knew she wouldn't let him down. " I will drive down tomorrow, I have business to attend to in Chicago, and we all know Richard prized his darling business above everything, including you and Gabriel. Maurice asked me to deliver papers to the office in person. Highly confidential, of course, so naturally I have read them at my leisure. You're father left everything to Gabriel if you didn't already know. Congratulations, you have the leading shares in the company again till he turns 18."
"Just as I thought I'd escaped, the bastard pulled me back in again from beyond the dead, I'm aware," Steve said, pinching the bridge of his nose; he could feel the headache approaching, and Lana and Robin hadn't even spent time in the same room as him yet. "Can we just get through the funeral before we talk business?"
"If we must. I expect the morons from the Vagas department will be attending the service, as well as your charming grandfather?"
"An unfortunate inevebility, but please, for our son's sake, don't start any more arguments with my grandpa. I can't be bothered with the fallout."
"When have I ever been anything but a ray of sunshine around your family, Steven? I would never…. Oh, Robin is back. Farewell for now, I shall see you in a few days, love."
"Steve… I fucking hate her." Robin grumbled down the phone, in the background Steve could make out the sound of Robin trundling her case along the airport floor and the rush of the automatic doors as she headed outside. "she makes me so mad, I can't belive you were going to marry her, she's the devil… no she's worse than the devil are we sure she -"
"Robin… calm down. You drive like a lunatic when you're mad, and I need you to get here in one bit. I take it you got the car sorted?"
"Of course I did. Now, why are you hanging around with Eddie?"
"It just sort of happened? Rob, can we not do this over the phone? So much has happened since I came home. Just come straight to the house when you get here, okay? I've got a room made up for you. I'll explain everything when you get here, alright?" Steve looked over to where Eddie and Gabe had come to a rest and were sharing the last of the sweet treats from the bag, the sticks cast to one side. Steve was unable to work out who had actually won the war. Steve's heart ached with possibility.
"But you said you were still in love with him, like that's a big thing. Are you sure your emotions aren't playing tricks on you? It's been a traumatic-"
"Rob, I know what I said. Trust me, just get back home and we can get drunk on my dad's expensive liquor and hash it out on the bathroom floor for good measure."
The line went quiet.
"Just don't do anything stupid."
"Too late for that." He said, and on the other side of the line Robin groaned.
"What did you do?"
"I kissed him."
Robin yelped at the other end of the phone, and Steve heard her almost drop it.
"I'll explain when you get here! Love you!" he said, hanging up on his best friend and most of the time his voice of reason. He had to unpack this with her in person, though. Robin's face couldn't lie, but her words could if he couldn't see it.
He jogged back towards Eddie and Gabe, ignoring the vibration of his phone in his pocket. Robin would be mad at him later, but right now, he wanted to enjoy his time with Eddie as much as possible before reality came back to bite him.
"Steve!" Robin announced her arrival with all the subtlety of a bull in a china shop. She barreled him off his feet, where he had been busy boxing up the things in the garage to go to Goodwill. "I need to know everything, and I need to know it like two weeks ago. I want the full lowdown… hold on, maybe not the full low down if it's more than kissing … where's my nephew?" She asked, looking around the garage as she dropped her bags. "He doesn't need to hear some things until he's old enough to push us around in our wheelchairs in the retirement home. And even then, he doesn't need to know where his dad shoves his whatsit." Robin said, pulling him into a bone-breaking hug.
The absolute chaos of his other half washed over him in its all-encompassing comfort.
"He's up at the lake with Joyce and Hopper. They offered to get him out of the way while I make a start on this." He gestured at the ever-growing pile of boxes around him. "Dad sold the house, so I'm stuck here in Hawkins until I get it sorted. Sorry." He explained. Pulling out of the hug to look at his best friend."I just decided the garage was the easiest place to start packing cause most of this junk Dad never even took out of the original boxes."
"Do you know how long it's going to take?" Robin asked, and Steve knew she was being careful with her questions. Trying to work out where Steve's head was.
"The new owners move in in September, so I guess a few weeks?"
Robin nodded, leaning against the wall. The space the Beemer used to occupy was conspicuously empty. Steve was trying his hardest to ignore it.
"And you just thought you would fill the time in between packing with hooking up with the man who left you?" Robin asked, straight to the point, like usual.
"He didn’t leave me, Rob. We were never together in the first place. If anything, I chose not to follow him!" Steve deflected. Robin didn't press it, but there was no mistaking that she was unimpressed by this new development. After all, she was the one who had to put up with Steve's slow decline into depression and his joining Harrington Resorts.
Robin was old hat at fixing his stupid mistakes by now; his voice of reason and sometimes the demon that encouraged him to do ridiculous things just for the hell of it. God, he had missed her the last week,
"So …." Robin prompted, falling into sync with him as he moved camping equipment into a large packing box. Even now, they still fell into that well-practiced pattern of teamwork unprompted. "What the hell's been going on the last few days then?"
"Where do you want me to start?" Steve asked.
"I want you to start with how the hell you managed to kiss Eddie? But I know you won't. So, how about starting with what the hell Eddie is doing back in a town that hates him? That would be a good alternative, but we can start wherever?" She grumbled.
"Eddie’s the funeral director sorting out Dad's funeral," Steve said with a shrug as he shoved some old hockey cleats into a box to donate. He gave Roin a moment to digest that information.
"I'm sorry. What?" Robin asked, blinking at him in disbelief.
"Yeah, that was my reaction too…"
"I'm going to need alcohol to deal with this," Robin said, dropping the kneepads into the same box that Steve had put the cleats in. "You said we were raiding your dad's good stuff, so lead the way, boss."
In a break from tradition, the heart-to-heart was not had on the bathroom floor; it was conducted over the desk in his father's study. It felt like they were both playing at being grown up as they sipped from the same bottle of Scotch, passing it back and forth as Steve unpacked the last five days.
"Oh… and my dad is a massive stinking hypocrite," Steve said, swinging around to pull the box out of the safe behind him. He dumped it on the table and pulled the lid off. "Let me share with you Steven Richard Harrington the second's secret life…"
Robin opened the box with caution, but Steve knew Robin better than that. He knew her curiosity was piqued. "Rob, just look at all this shit and tell me I'm not crazy, will you?"
On his request, Robin started flipping through photos and letters, her clever, yet slightly drunken brain getting to the conclusion a lot faster than Steve had when provided with the evidence before them.
"Was your dad…" She dropped her voice scandalously, "gay?"
"Yeah. Best I can figure, Gramps made him hide it." Steve sifted through the photos till he found the picture of Ethan at Satlers Quarry. "This guy, Ethan, gets a share of Dad's fortune in the will. He lives in San-fransisco, Rob, he knows who I am, who you are! I've talked to him… It's all in the letters… Rob, I threw my chance at happiness with Eddie away because I was scared of what my dad would do, and all this time, he had some secret life! This was the person Dad had an affair with, the reason Mom was never home. Do you recognize him?" He said, thrusting the photo at Robin with a little too much enthusiasm.
Robin squinted at the faded, well-worn photo. "Maybe a little? I mean, once you've seen one middle-aged gay man in the bay, you've seen them all." Robin said sympathetically.
"He owns a bar. He saw us in it, and he outed me to my father. I want to be so fucking mad at him, but I just…" He took another swig from the bottle, before banging his head against the desk in defeat, he let the hardwood push his glasses into his cheek and pinch at his nose.
"Don't give yourself another concussion, dingus," Robin said, reaching out to stop him from banging his head against and doing something worse than bending his glasses.
"Robin, why didn't Dad say something?" Steve huffed into the hardwood.
"Reputation? The family name? Steve, your dad, and grandfather aren't exactly the type to sit down and talk it out, are they? Could you imagine if it got out that you're dad had been sleeping with another man?" She crawled up onto the desk and repositioned his head into her lap. "Babe, they went into crisis control when you quit. The whole company would have gone into meltdown if they found out you were Bi. I mean, crazy old Maurice wasn't best pleased when you turned him down for his sister, was he? So maybe not everybody would be shocked. But it would still be a scandal. And that's now, imagine what it was like for your dad in the 60s, I mean, how long had this been going on with Ethan?" She asked.
"Since they were in school in Vegas."
"You what?" Robin said, not even pretending she wasn't shocked.
"Rob, I think I only exist to hide the fact that my dad is gay. I'm an alibi. A cover story." Steve said, looking Robin dead in the eye, trying to make her understand, "And I think grandad made dad marry mom to hide his relationship with Ethan. And to make it worse? I'm doubting myself now. Like, was I only with Lana as a safe option? Is Gabe me in this scenario? Have I just done to Gabe what my parents did to me? Am I an asshole?" He pushed his face back into Robin's jeans. "Shouldn't this be easier now, Dad's dead?" He muttered into the denim.
Robin said nothing for a few moments, gently carding her fingers through his hair. He let himself scrape some comfort from it. He felt her shift, heard the sound of papers rustling as she continued to look through the paperwork on the desk.
"Has this crisis escalated 'cause you kissed Eddie?" she asked quietly, hand tugging the hair at the scruff of his neck to make him look up.
"It's not, not escalated, because I kissed Eddie," he huffed, pushing his glasses back into their proper place. "But I feel like so much of my life is a lie right now. 'Cause let's face it, Rob, I was kidding myself, wasn't I? Lana was just an Eddie substitute. "
"Did you love her?" Robin asked carefully, in the way she always did when she knew he was about to tip over the precipice of self-distruction.
"For a little while."
"And do you love Gabriel?" Robin asked seriously.
"With every fiber of my being. How could I not?" Steve said, feeling anger at being asked such a stupid question. He shook out of her grip and sat back in his chair, prepared to fight Robin on this point and this point alone.
"Then why on earth do you think Gabe is you in this situation?" Robin asked, swinging around to face him. Her legs dangled on his side of the desk. "And as much as Lana infuriates me, she loves Gabe too much for me to hate her completely. You're both being the best parents you can. You love your son, and he adores you. He's not the product of you trying to hide anything. Or pretending to be normal. So don't you dare say any of that shit about yourself." She finished off by poking him in the middle of the forehead. "The voice in your head is your dad, the same way it's always been. And like you said, he was a fucking hypocrite."
Robin, as ever, was right. But he had so much more to deal with than just this. The funeral, his family, the business.
The whole Eddie situation was just as messed up. He had no idea how he was going to make it work, but he was committed to making it work somehow. He wasn't letting Eddie get away again.
But, like Robin had read his mind, she spoke the issue into being before he had even thought about how to address it.
"So, you and Eddie. How's that going to work? I mean, he has a life here in Hawkins, you have whatever it is you have going on back in San-Fran, and a whole company to run if what I heard Lana bitching about on my phone was accurate. I mean, is this going to be a when-in-Rome romance? Or…"
Steve reached over and grabbed the bottle of Scotch, using it as an excuse to think about his answer. Not that it hadn't been ruminating in his mind since he took that first call from Robin.
What was he supposed to do? He didn't want to get sucked back into the family business, but between them, Gabe and he owned most of the company. Lana's family owned almost all the rest, and Ethan now had that extra 1% deciding share that Steve knew was just a paycheck, much like the 2% his mother had left Steve.
The Harringtons still owned the company. His dad had made it so Steve wouldn't be able to forget that, at least for the next 12 years.
Now with an extra partner, who was the apparent root of all Steve's trauma with his dad. Steve still had no idea what he wanted to do with his life, but he knew it wasn’t the job he had tried so hard to escape. It would mean having to travel the world again. Something he didn’t want to do. He wanted to stay as close to Gabe as he could. He didn’t want to bury himself in work and hide from his own life.
"I can see the hamster that controls your brain about to pass out in the wheel." Robin sighed as she slid off the desk and landed between his legs. She took each of his hands in her own. "Steve. Talk to me."
"I'm sick of not having control of my own life. Every time I try to claw back some semblance of ownership. My dad comes back and pulls the rug out from underneath me. It's fucking bullshit. He's dead, and he's still got this hold over me. I'm back in Hawkins, of all places. A place I said I'd never set foot in again. This place is cursed," he grumbled, sitting back up in the chair and making to grab the bottle again, but Robin pulled it out of his reach.
"Not anymore. Not if what you're telling me about the place is true ." Robin reasoned. And wasn't she telling the truth? He had spent most of the afternoon waxing poetic about how much Hawkins had changed. "So when are we moving back here. And can I be there when you give Maurice your 2%? " she asked.
Steve looked at her like she had grown an extra head.
"What?" She questioned, "The Easiest answer is to hand control of the company over to the crazy French man, let him buy your shares. Be a silent partner in Gabes name. Then you can move back here and romance the shit out of Munson." She said in that matter-of-fact way she liked to use.
"You would move back here?" He asked, not quite believing his ears. He hadn't even thought of moving back here being a valid option, even if Joyce had dangled it in front of him yesterday like a worm on a hook.
"Dingus, I go where you go. If that happens to be back to the front line of the apocalypse, then so be it." She punched him in the arm. "Kind of sucks your dad sold this place. Means we have to look at realtors. I hate realtors." Robin stuck her tongue out in disgust.
"Your girlfriend is a realtor." Steve pointed out.
"Yeah, but she's hot, so you know she isn't to be counted." Robin rationalised. The one rule for Robin and one for everyone else coming into full effect. "You have that look in your eye. The one that makes me worry about just how much common sense all the concussions knocked out of you."
"What look?"
"The one you used to wear when you let your heart rule over your head. It's my favourite flavour of dingus." Robin said affectionately.
"I can't uproot my life to move back to Hawkins over one kiss," Steve argued, passing the almost empty bottle over to Robin to finish.
"It's not just one kiss, though, is it? Steve, babe, you're miserable in San-fransisco. It feels like you spent the last few years waiting for something. Maybe this is the universe giving you that something." She said, "Eddie's got right back under your skin in the few days you've been back here, hasn't he?"
Steve sighed. "He never got out from under it, Rob, you of all people know that," He said as he reached out to grab the photo of his dad and Ethan in high school. He gazed at it for a moment. Passing it from hand to hand so that the setting sun made the photo dance in golds and reds."What would you do?"
"I would do what makes me happy. You aren't your dad, Steve, no matter how much you look like him. You have this house for a few more weeks, and I can get Laura to look into houses and things in Hawkins, just as a possibility. I mean mainly for me and her because let's face it, I know you. Give it two weeks, and you will have moved into Eddie's place, and Gabe will have that cat he always wanted." She shoved at his arm. "He doesn't still live with Wayne, does he?" She asked cautiously.
Steve shook his head. "He bought Wayne a house down by the lake. Eddie's place is above the funeral home; it's nice, considering it's above a crematorium and a freezer full of dead bodies. Probably the best night's sleep I've had in-"
"Why were you sleeping at Eddie's?" Robin cut across him. "Steven. Did you do more than just kiss Eddie Munson?"
"No! I swear on Gabe's life… " Steve was just about to go into the gritty detail of exactly what went down when he was saved by the doorbell. "That will be Hop with the little man. Don't look at me like that. You can get the rest of your smut after he goes to bed." he quickly scooped his dad's box and its contents back up into the safe as the doorbell sounded again. "Go see your nephew, he's missed you."
"This isn't over, Stephanie, you know that, right?" Robin threatened as she made her way out of the office.
"Love you too, dingus," Steve said as he rushed past her and ruffled her hair as they took the stairs down to welcome Gabe home.
"The kid is cute as a button, I'll give him that," Wayne said as he lit his cigarette.
"Damn near knocked Robin off her feet when he saw her. He's pretty strong for such a weedy-looking kid." Hopper said as he bumbed a smoke from Wayne. Doctor's orders had been for him to lay off them, but trying to stop the man when he was drinking was a Herculean task that neither Munson was going to take on.
"Don't worry, he's still got time for sports to ruin a perfectly good nerd. I'm sure Steve will have him sporting as soon as he shows a tiny bit of interest." Eddie said as he moved along for Hopper to take a seat.
"You talk a big game for someone who was so invested in the '96 Olympics," Hopper said, raising an eyebrow in judgment.
"Don't think the boy was watching it for the sportsmanship, Jim. Never missed a swim race, though. What was his name? Wolf?" Wayne teased, never one to miss an opportunity to ruffle Eddie's feathers.
"Lion?" Hopper said with a smirk.
"Oh fuck off, the pair of you. You know fine well it was David Fox, and yes, I'm aware how shallow I am, alright. I'll admit it. I didn't wind you both up over watching the volleyball, did I?" It was kind of embarrassing how invested he had gotten in the USA swim team; he was never going to be allowed to live it down.
"Didn’t Steve use to be the swim team captain?" Hopper asked, faking ignorance. Eddie should have known he was going to have to put up with some sort of Steve-shaped teasing; he thought he would have gotten to the bottom of his first bottle before he was dog-piled, though.
"Don't try and fish for gossip, Hop, you're better than that." Eddie snarked, flicking a peanut into his mouth.
"Not by much," Wayne laughed.
"I get one friend my own age, and you two start to get jealous, it's kind of sweet," Eddie said, tapping his rings on the edge of his bottle, well aware that just thinking about Steve had made the smile creep to his face again.
"And to think people used to think you were a murderer," Hopper said with a chuckle. "Might as well have love hearts floating around your head like a damn cartoon."
"Hopper, leave the boy alone." Wayne laughed, "It's good to see him smiling."
"Yeah, well, it won't last long; the angel of death is descending on us. Lana, Steve's ex." Hopper explained when he was greeted with two confused expressions. "The woman is a law unto herself. Joyce and Robin hate her, me …. I tolerate her in small doses." Hopper grumbled.
Eddie had to admit he wasn’t looking forward to the extended Harrington family or Steve's ex arriving in Hawkins. Especially as Steve was obviously hung up on something to do with them.
Everything in Steve's life was so precariously balanced on a knife-edge at the moment Eddie didn't want to be the one to make it slip and end up with someone bloodied and splattered on the floor.
"She can't be that bad?" Eddie asked, and Hopper shrugged while he downed his drink and got back to his feet to go get them another round.
"You're gonna find out."
Eddie hadn’t expected to see Steve the next day. He hadn't expected to see him again until the funeral, but there was a knock at the business door a little after noon.
Steve was standing in the blazing sun when Eddie opened the door. He had been expecting Harry or someone from the landscaping team, so he hadn’t even taken off his gloves and mask. He had been cleaning cremains from the crematorium when he heard the knock. He had just finished sifting through the bones from the grinder. He was surprised he heard the door at all.
"Steve?" He asked, confused at the other man's presence.
"I was thinking about what you said," Steve said, letting himself into the back room by shoving past Eddie.
"Mask!" Eddie said, grabbing one from the box by the door, passing it to Steve. He pulled it on, and instantly his glasses steamed up. He gave out an indignant huff and cleaned them on the bottom of his shirt. Eddie tried his hardest not to stare. But he was only human, and that little strip of skin on show at Steve's waist was just a gateway to the things he was trying his hardest to be an adult about.
"You were thinking about what? We did a lot of talking, Stevo, you gotta be more specific." He asked, watching as Steve set his glasses right.
"About this place. About you buying it off Harry. About what Tommy said the other night in the pizza place. All of it." Steve said as he followed Eddie back to the grinder. Thankfully, it was through its cycle. Dead bodies were one thing, but grinding up bones was a whole new level of disturbing that Eddie didn’t want to expose Steve to unless he had to. He quickly emptied the container and shoved the extractor fan on; whatever this was, Eddie needed to see Steve's face while it played out. Steve followed him around, one step behind him as he worked, talking at the speed of light.
"- and I was talking to Robin last night, and she's right, it's time I started to take control of my own life, so I want to do this."
"Slow down, sweetheart, what are you trying to say?"Eddie asked, trying not to follow his instincts and reach out to calm Steve with touch, at least not while he still had his surgical gloves on.
"I want you to use me," Steve said, exasperated.
"You made that perfectly clear the other night." Eddie tried to joke, but Steve wasn't having any of it. The little light by the extractor blinked, and Eddie pulled off his mask, prompting Steve to do the same. He pulled his gloves off and threw them in the waste bin.
"No, I want you to use me as your endorsement at the bank," Steve said as he tried to untangle the mask from his glasses. "As your friend. As someone who knows you, I've seen how much this place means to you. I can’t stand the thought of a faceless corporation like my Dad's buying it from underneath you."
"No."
"What do you mean, no?" Steve asked, stunned.
"Exactly what I said. No." Eddie said. As much as this would be the answer to his problems, he couldn't do it.
"Why not?" Steve asked, genuinely confused at Eddie’s rejection.
So that was what rejection looked like. No wonder Steve had looked so destroyed when he left for Chicago.
"Steve, I've already been accused of trying to sleep with you to get you to do exactly this," Eddie said, exasperated. "I want you for you. Not for what you can do for me. If you do this and then, by the grace of whatever God will have me, we do get together, nobody will believe it was for love." Eddie said, throwing his hands in the air in irritation. "Nobody will believe the town freak didn't corrupt the pretty rich boy for his money."
"Why does it matter?" Steve asked,
"It just does."
"Eddie…"
"Don't Eddie me." Eddie said, holding his arms angrily across his chest, "Keith suggested I ask you the other day. I know it's the easiest answer, trust me. But I will find another way. Dr. Owens still owes me a favour; maybe I can call that in."
Steve looked pissed. Unfortunately for Steve, Eddie had always found that attractive rather than threatening. Bitchy pissed off Steve was at his most seductive.
"I need to look for a partner anyway when Harry retires; I can't do this all alone," He said, gesturing at all the equipment scattered around the mortuary.
"Then teach me…" Steve pleaded.
"Steve… It's not that easy. It's years of training. It's long, unsociable hours. You have a company to run. You have Gabriel to look after. You got out of Hawkins. I can't be the reason you get stuck here." Eddie said angrily, hating the fact that he was snapping at Steve over this when he had bigger things to be dealing with.
Steve was getting angrier by the second. He may only have a half inch on Eddie, but it looked like he was willing to use it. He crowded Eddie into the side of the crematorium.
"My dad spent his entire life doing what other people expected of him, what they told him to do. He took on the family business because that was what was expected of him. I don't want that, Eddie. I never wanted that. I wanted you. I wanted us. I might be stuck with the company until Gabe is 18, but that doesn't mean I have to run it. Dad might have been too much of a coward to be with the man he loves, but I'm not. Don't tell me no just because you think it's the right thing to do."
Eddie was dumbfounded, trying to unpack everything Steve was saying, distracted by how close he was, hands on either side of him, almost pinning him to the tool of his trade.
"Give me one good reason why my coming on as a partner is a bad idea," Steve pressed on, "One that doesn't involve what the great unwashed of Hawkins thinks of us, or what the world expects of me… just one."
Eddie floundered. He couldn't think of anything, but the answer his heart had been trying to bury since Steve had come back into his life.
"What if you decide I'm not good enough again?" He said quietly into the breath-warmed air between them. "The last time broke me."
Steve's eyes searched his face, looking for the lie, but there was none. He deflated at the admission but was not backing down.
"Ed, you have always been good enough. If anyone's not good enough, it's me. I was scared. Even after everything we had been through—demons and monsters and other dimensions. The way I felt for you. That was the scariest thing I had ever encountered." Steve bought a hand-up to hold his face, a mirror of the other night on the sofa, an intensity in his gaze almost pleading with Eddie to listen. "I packed my things, I had all intentions of following you. But then my dad got into my head. I had no address. What was I going to do, walk the streets of Chicago until I found you? He couldn't understand why I was upset. Thought it was just because all the friends my age had finally upped and left. Even then… I couldn't tell him. Ed, I was a coward. I couldn't tell him I had let the man I love walk away, and I had nobody to blame but myself."
"Love?" Eddie asked, "Not loved? He tried to keep his voice steady. He failed.
"Love," Steve repeated. "Never stopped, I was just too stupid to understand what it was at the time and too much of a coward to work it out," Steve said, pushing closer. Eddie mentally took stock of what buttons and levers were near, just in case, then he pulled Steve into him by the neck of his shirt, taking things easy be dammed. He slammed their lips together, picking up where they had left off the other night. Steve didn’t need encouragement; his hands dropped, searching out something of his own to grab.
He settled in Eddie's hips. Grabbing him by the waist and lifting him, pressing him up against the side of the crematorium. The cold steel and stone were biting at his now exposed back, where Steve had rucked his shirt up.
Eddie felt his resolve weaken with every press of lips, every stroke of skin, every low moan on his tongue as Steve seemingly tried to show through his actions just how much he meant everything he said.
This was too much, and not enough, and absolutely not the place to be doing this with some poor souls' earthly remains sitting in a bag on the table in the corner.
"You shouldn't think I'll just agree to everything you ask, by you charming the pants off me," Eddie said, grabbing Steve by the wrists as he moved his hands to Eddie's belt.
"But you are agreeing," Steve said with a self-satisfied grin.
"Yes. But on one condition. Equal partners. I want a prenup, I want it in writing that you have a get-out clause." Eddie said. Trying his hardest not to submit to the wrecked and desperate look of wanton lust that Steve had on his face right now.
"Absolutely," Steve said, pushing forward again and grabbing another kiss. "Whatever you want, and I promise not to use manly charms against you."
"I was kind of hoping you were gonna use something against me, or in me… or you know…uno reverse… whatever… I'm easy." Eddie said, releasing his grip on Steve's wrists to grab his ass instead.
"You really aren't," Steve said, pressing in closer. He traced the scar tissue on Eddie's side, sending shivers up his spine. "But maybe you'll prove me wrong. Robin's got Gabe in the pool. Want to show me how easy you can be?" Steve said as he pressed kisses into the side of Eddie's neck. "If you have time, that is?" He said, lips ghosting Eddie's ear.
Yeah, Eddie's resolution not to take things further was shattered. He had buckled once; a second time was just inevitable. "I'm on call. But after I catalog who I was doing, I have all afternoon. I was just finishing things off for you anyway. We can just finish off something else instead."
Steve took a step back, seemingly reluctant to let go of Eddie now that he had permission to touch. He gave him an appraising look. "Is it unhygienic to fuck you on the morgue table?" He asked.
Eddie spluttered a laugh. "Yeah, probably… Why?"
"You have no idea how hot you look doing all this stuff, do you?" Steve asked with a grin, his face flustered.
"I never realised undertaker was a sexy job, but you, Steve Harrington, are always full of surprises," Eddie said, rushing to the grinder to finish bagging and tagging.
"What if I put down a sheet?" Steve asked, leaning against the door to the mortuary, pouting.
"You are morally reprehensible, and people said I was the Satanist," Eddie said as he moved through the motions of safely boxing up Mrs Peabody. He apologised silently for the fact that he was doing so with a raging hard-on.
"And if I knew what that meant, I'd probably agree." Steve sang out as he followed Eddie to the memorial room.
Eddie placed the box on the counter and screwed the metal ID to the side of the box before carefully labeling and cataloguing the cremains. He would advise the family tomorrow. Right now, he had to deal with the rest of his life that was trying to undress him with his eyes across a place of eternal rest.
"Did you even register anything I was doing ?" Eddie asked as he sauntered back to Steve, well aware that the other man wasn't paying any attention to anything but what his horney hind brain was telling him.
"Not a thing. Do you need to lock up or…" Steve asked as he pulled Eddie in by the lapel of his shirt.
"No, we can take this upstairs…" Eddie said, nudging Steve with his hip. He didn’t need to be told twice; he led the way, already acquainted with the layout of the home. He stopped at the top of the stairs, and Eddie momentarily thought that Steve was having second thoughts about everything.
But he was laughing. Laughing so hard that Eddie was worried something was wrong or if he was just the butt of a particularly cruel joke.
"Steve?" Eddie asked cautiously.
"Sorry … Sorry… It's just that… my dad… he always said. My kid will be fucking gay over my dead body." Steve mimicked his dad, trying not to laugh. "And well, the irony isn't lost on me."
Eddie punched him playfully in the arm, "You dick! I was worried something was wrong."
Steve couldn't stop laughing, and it was infectious.
"Over his dead body. Oh come on, Ed, you have to admit this has to be a one in a million chance, that could actually happen!" Eddie cut him off by opening the door and pulling him inside. Steve was still laughing as Eddie pulled him towards the bedroom. It was infectious, and Eddie couldn't help but join him.
Chapter Text
There was absolutely no way they were hiding what they had been up to when they showed up at the house several hours after Steve had supposedly dropped over to see Eddie so he could 'check on the orders of service.'
It had been a blatant lie, one that Robin had seen right through. Obviously, Eddie was pretty sure that Robin and Steve's weird telepathy thing hadn’t gotten any weaker since the last time he saw them together. Robin was currently trying to talk to Steve via facial expressions across the kitchen counter. Eddie wished Steve would just drag her away and do the debriefing she so desperately wanted.
Eddie's reprieve from Robin's wrath was cut short by the front doorbell. Steve jumped to his feet to answer the door, leaving Eddie trying his hardest to ignore her and concentrate on the comic book that Gabriel was trying to show him.
"Gabe!" Steve called from the hallway. "Your mom is here."
Gabriel jumped to his feet, abandoning Eddie to his fate. But yet again, Eddie was saved. Whatever grievance Robin had against him paled in comparison to the way she felt about Lana.
"Yay, Mom is here," Robin said sarcastically, Jazz hands and everything. "Here comes the circus, hope you bought snacks."
"Should I be worried?" Eddie asked. He had been forewarned that Robin didn’t like Lana, but the woman wasn't even trying to hide her dislike.
"I dunno, loud obnoxious, opinionated…she's probably exactly your sort of person. Me? I'd quite like to banish her to the Upside Down. But knowing Lana, she would just charm the mind flayer into starting some sort of prog rock visual concept group, then abandon it to find herself on a dried-up lake bed or something." Robin said. She walked over to him, getting in close and dropping her voice. "Speaking of abandonment. If you disappear on him like that again, even just for an hour, I will turn you into a Eunuch. You got that?" She warned.
He nodded. He did not doubt at all that Robin meant every word of it.
"Come on, Casanova, time to face the music." She said, smacking him in the back of the head.
Angel of death had been an accurate description of the woman before him. Hopper had hit the nail on the head with that one. Eddie recognised her instantly.
"Your ex is Lacrux?" Eddie said, exasperated. "Of course she is, Eddie, of course she is." He muttered to himself, clicking his rings together anxiously. It wasn't every day a musical genius came into your life in the guise of your boyfriend's ex.
She was indeed intimidating. But not for any of the reasons that she should be in Eddie's current position as Steve's new boyfriend.
This woman had worked with some of Eddie's heroes; her haunting voice was in his record collection back home. He had listened to Jeff and the guys drunkenly ramble about Lacrux being Eddie in drag, and Eddie had always just laughed it off, but now…
Lana pulled herself from the hug she had wrapped Gabriel in to stare at Eddie unapologetically. She pulled her sunglasses to the end of her nose to get a better look. It was like looking in a mirror, if the mirror him had better tit's.
"Oh, so this is Eddie the musician then, I presume." She said, walking forward and planting a kiss on his cheek. He didn't like the way she said the musician, as if mocking him. "Thank you for instilling a half-acceptable musical leaning into my child's father. Please call me Lana. I assume you are Eddie? After all, my love does have a type." Lana said with the thick French accent that Eddie recognised from some of her spoken word segments on her self-titled album. Shit…were some of the songs about Steve? Eddie didn't want to think about it. Yet, all he could think about now was the sordid details that some of the songs went into. He checked in with Steve, who looked resigned to the next few days being as awkward as possible.
"Eddie, this is Lana, Gabriel's mom. Lana, this is indeed Eddie. I'm sure the two of you are going to get on wonderfully." Steve said, really emphasizing the last part. A clear indication that he meant nothing of the sort. Gabriel rushed back to the kitchen, already bored, and abandoned the grown-ups to deal with such mundane things as introductions.
"Or like an atomic bomb, or one of the weird time loop doubleganger paradox things they always tell you to avoid in the movies." Robin contributed from her place, leaning against the door frame, "This could still go Mcfly Dingus. Un horizon des événements apocalyptiques." Robin said, grimacing in Lana's direction. *
"Eh bien, le monde tourne autour de moi, pourquoi la fin des temps ne le ferait-elle pas aussi ?" Lana said, waving her hand in Robin's direction. Steve looked lost at the exchange, but Eddie could get the general pissed off tone the two of them were trading back and forth.
"Je te méprise," Robin said, pushing herself off the wall
"Le sentiment est réciproque," Lana called after her as Robin took her leave to join Gabe in the kitchen. When Eddie looked at Steve again, he was pinching the bridge of his nose in irritation.
"Lana, could you please just play nice for a few days, just until after the funeral, then you and Robin can pull each other's pigtails and fight to your hearts' content," Steve pleaded.
"I will play nice quand votre lesbienne de compagnie arrête de mordre si facilement, and not a moment earler." Lana said with a wicked grin.
"You know I can't translate that, but I heard lesbian, so I know whatever you said was insulting. " Steve said with a sigh. "I wasn't expecting to see you until tomorrow?" Steve asked as Lana continued to assess Eddie with a judgmental glare.
"You smell like Steve," Lana said, sniffing Eddie and ignoring Steve's question entirely. "Would you look at that? He's very handsome when he blushes, is he not?" Lana said, tapping Eddie on the nose, "Anyway, you're father's leeches have booked up the only hotel for miles. And for some reason, this godforsaken town doesn't have any of our hotels in a hundred-mile radius. It's positively medieval. Fortunately for me, I know you have at least one more spare room in this beige monstrosity. I brought you one of your suits. Unless you intended to bury your father in that?" She waved a hand at the polo shirt and jeans Steve was currently wearing. "The man was an ass, but he didn’t deserve stonewashed denim at his funeral. Don't you agree, Eddie?" She said, taking her hat off and hanging it by the door. Unlike Steve, Eddie could spot a rhetorical question and said nothing. It was then that Eddie spotted the case and the clothing bags by the door. Lana meant business.
"I was just going to buy a suit in town," Steve said, exasperated. It sounded like he had totally forgotten up until this point that he was going to need one
"Why, when you have the finest Italian tailoring at home, doudou?" Lana said, pointing at her luggage for Steve to collect. "Never appreciates what he has. But I know you understand that." She said to Eddie. She swanned past Eddie towards the stairs. Steve didn't follow her. He stood by the door, one hand on the handle of the oversized case.
"So… that's Lana." He said, wafting his hand towards the stairs.
"Do you get a word in edgewise?" Eddie asked.
"No. Not really. I should have known you would know her; somehow, I always forget that she actually has a job. She does it so infrequently." Steve said, pulling the case behind him as he walked over to Eddie. "Sorry, I know she's a lot."
"She seems… interesting."
"That’s one word for it," Steve said apologetically. "Are you alright with her being here?" Steve asked.
"I don't think I'm in any position to say anything about that just yet, am I?" Eddie said, dropping his voice. "She's Gabriel's mom. I can keep my territorial instincts under control if she plays nice."
Steve shook his head, "Lana doesn't know how to play nice."
"Then, she gets what she gives, baby."
As far as Steve could tell, Lana was trying her hardest to push every single one of Robin and Eddie's buttons.
Eddie had left and returned with takeout, a mix of everything the town had to offer, from greasy burgers to spaghetti from Enzo's.
Lana turned her nose up at everything, but proceeded to help herself to whatever Steve put on his plate. She was in his space more often than not—touching him like she was still his partner and piling on the terms of endearment like her life depended on it. Steve knew exactly what she was playing at.
He had always been honest with Lana; she knew all about his history with Eddie. She obviously had no idea what was actually happening between Steve and Eddie now. But she was like a shark, and there was blood in the water.
Lana liked to get a rise out of people. Be it emotionally from her art or her music, or irrationally by pushing people till they snapped. It was part of the reason that Steve had fallen for her in the first place—that loud, brash over-the-top-ness. Her need to be the centre of attention, however, was driving him to despair right now.
At least she had made it till the end of dinner before starting a sparing match with Robin in French across the abandoned take-out containers. Gabriel watched them trade insults back and forth. And Steve hoped for his own sake that they were talking too fast for his son to keep up.
"Alright!" Steve said loudly, when it had started to get so heated that Eddie started to look uncomfortable. The shouting match had gotten so angry between Lana and Robin that he didn't have to translate to understand what they were saying. "Gabe, time for bed."
"But I don't-"
"Eddie, do you want to come and help me put Gabe to bed while these two take a time out?" Steve said with a pointed glare at Robin and Lana. Both women were silently brooding now.
Eddie looked relieved to get away from the verbal tennis match that had been taking place in the kitchen.
"Eddie, can you read me a story?" Gabe asked, jumping down and grabbing Eddie by the hand.
"Course I can," Eddie said as he got to his feet, letting Gabe drag him towards the stairs.
"Come on, Dad!" Gabe yelled when he got halfway up the stairs, and Steve still hadn't followed them.
"Go on up, show Eddie our room," Steve said, waving them on. He waited until he heard the telltale click of the bedroom door. "Will both of you give it a rest!" He said, turning on Robin and Lana, who were still muttering at each other.
"I will when she does," Robin grumbled as she started to throw out the takeaway containers. Lana huffed in indignation as she poured herself another glass of wine.
"You're adults. Start acting like it," Steve warned. Both women fixed him with matching scowls. "I am going upstairs to say goodnight to my son. Can I trust both of you to play nice while I'm gone, or do I have to put you in time out?"
"Go play happy families, mon amour, we will try not to burn down the house while you are gone."
"What she said," Robin said as she made her way past him to put out the trash. "And later, we need to talk." She warned with a pointed finger, jabbing him in the chest. Steve was willing to take what he could; a brief cease-fire was better than nothing.
He followed his son and Eddie's footsteps, pausing outside the door when he heard Eddie reading aloud.
"Either the well was very deep, or she fell very slowly, for she had plenty of time as she went down to look about her and to wonder what was going to happen next." Eddie read, his voice that lullaby quality that he used to use when luring in his players mid campaign. Steve had tried many a time to capture the same tone when trying to persuade Gabriel into the land of nod. He stood and listened for a while, enraptured by Eddie’s particular set of skills. His heart grew fuller with each word shared with his son.
" Well! thought Alice to herself, 'after such a fall as this, I shall think nothing of tumbling down stairs! How brave they'll all think me at home! Why, I wouldn't say anything about it, even if I fell off the top of the house!" Eddie continued raising his voice an octave to mimic the elusive Alice. He heard Gabe let out a sleepy chuckle. When Steve stuck his head around the door, sure enough, Gabriel looked to already be well on his way to sleep. Eddie looked up with a shy smile on his face, but kept on reading till Gabriel’s gentle snoring filled the room.
Eddie quietly got up. Walking across the room to join Steve, who was standing in the doorway.
"You're good with him," Steve said, looking back at the bed where Gabe had cuddled down to sleep with his Jack Skelington plush. "Are you sure you're ready to take on him as well as me?" Steve asked, unable to keep the doubt out of his voice. Maybe this would be the thing that broke Eddie. He wasn't just taking on Steve; he was taking on Gabe and, by extension, Lana.
"I'm only here under strict instructions from Wayne to seduce you so he can get a grandson. We've been over this, Harrington." Eddie said sweetly as he backed Steve into the doorpost, "Is it working?" He said, ghosting a kiss over Steve's lips.
"Fortunately for Wayne, yes," Steve said as he pushed forward and stole another kiss. Just because he could. In the bed, Gabe sighed and rolled over, smooshing his face into the pillow. Steve had a feeling his son wasn't as asleep as he was pretending to be. Eddie also seemed to have picked up on the child's subdefuge.
"Goodnight, Gabby." Eddie chanced, and a muffled 'night Eddie' came from the depths of the pillow.
"I suppose that's one way of telling him about us," Steve said quietly with a chuckle as he pulled the door closed behind them as they stepped out into the hall. He still had the feeling that Eddie was following his lead, and he was appreciative of it, especially when Gabe was concerned. Eddie smiled sweetly at him, the dimples showing that Steve at one point thought he was never going to see again, making an appearance. He handed Steve his own tatty childhood volume of Alice's Adventures in Wonderland.
"I kept the page, I'll see you tomorrow, sweetheart," Eddie said, kissing him as he passed. "Try and get some sleep."
Steve was glad he had taken the chance to grab an early night. He hadn't slept, but he also hadn't had to listen to Robin and Lana any longer. He would take staring at his horrendous teenage wallpaper for hours on end over the increasingly colourful and imaginative insults being tossed about, with neither woman willing to be the one to back down and go to bed. The last he heard before he gave up on them for the night was Lana offhandedly saying, “Tu parles français comme une vache espagnole,”
As far as Steve had managed to translate, it was a dig at Robin's French. Something along the lines of she speaks French like a Spanish cow? A tactile retreat had been the best course of action at that point. That fight was going to go on long into the morning.
He had showered and shaved while Gabe still slept; he was already dressed in his stupidly overpriced suit when Gabe finally began to wake. Steve walked over, handing him his glasses from the nightstand.
"You look funny in a suit," Gabe said, yawning.
"Not as funny as you're going to, come on. Get up, you need to wash up and then come get breakfast."
Lana was in the kitchen when he got downstairs. She greeted him with a coffee and a forced smile. She was already dressed for the day, her lips painted red, and a black veil already affixed to her hair. "There's my handsome man, how I missed you in trappings of grandure.". She said, stroking his lapels.
"Lana, you have to stop this." He said with a sigh.
"Stop what mon amour?" She asked, taming a loose strand of his hair. He took her hand in his own and moved it away.
"This, Lana. We aren't together anymore, we haven't been for a long time."
"Are we not?" She said sweetly. "My heart will always belong a little bit to you."
"Even so, we aren't together, please, just dial back all the … Lana of it all. My family and the business partners don't understand you the way I do. I know it's just you being you, but they don't."
Lana's grin went from something genuine to something vindictive, like the flick of a switch. "Does Eddie not like me playing with his toys, doudou? " Steve must have given something away. "Interesting, you have only been back here a week. You move fast, or he does?"
"That's got nothing to do with you," Steve said, stepping away. He knew he had let his facade slip, and Lana would latch on to it.
"It has everything to do with me when it comes to something that has an impact on my son." She said, following him, almost sounding like the caring mother she sometimes pretended to be.
"Why start caring now?" Steve questioned.
"What is that supposed to mean?"
"Oh come off it, Lana, like I don't know about Liam, or James, or Lars, or Philippe…. they all had an impact on our son too, this doesn't go just one way."
"Flashes in the pan, impulsive lapses in judgment," Lana said, trying to brush him off.
"That involved our son." Steve pointed out. He could double down and point out that two of the names he had listed had been when they were living under the same roof.
"I just find it interesting that our son has become obsessed with death, and here we are…Eddie is back in your life, and he just so happens to deal with the dead? It would make some people think that maybe something was going on long before your father passed. That the Harrington men liked to keep dirty secrets."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"Who's Ethan?" She asked nonchalantly.
"How did you…"
"The paperwork Maurice sent for the Chicago office. Richard wasn’t the sort to leave shares to just anyone. Who did he love more than you to leave them 1 %?" Lana mused. "At first, I thought it was a secret love child. But we all know that your mother kept him on a leash, and let's face it, your father couldn't stand you most of the time. A love child would have come to the surface long before now, I feel." Lana said, sipping her coffee. "So that left a lover. "
Steve tried not to react, didn’t want to give Lana ammo for whatever little game she was playing.
"But then I was never good at mysteries. Maybe I'm just bored. But I know I'm not wrong when it comes to Eddie." She accused.
"Well, you are, I had no idea he was back in Hawkins," Steve said in his own defense. He was about to push the point further when Gabriel wandered in and plonked himself at the table. He looked between his parents, no doubt trying to work out what he was interrupting.
Steve had always made sure that any raised voices between him and Lana had taken place when Gabe was out of earshot. For him to hear them bickering was unusual. He waited until Steve had made his cereal before he asked if everything was alright.
"It's fine, Gabe, Mom, and me are just emotional, that's all. "Grandad always had that effect on us."
Gabriel ate his breakfast silently, judging his parents, and Steve couldn't help but think it was deserved.
The atmosphere between Robin and Lana didn't get better after a night's sleep. Gabe had definitely picked up on it. He fidgeted with his tie, his shoes, and the lapels of the suit jacket that Lana had insisted he wear. Steve felt just as awkward and uncomfortable. Robin kept pacing from the front door to the window and back again, waiting and watching for the funeral cars to come from the home to collect them.
It seemed stupid to Steve that they brought his father from the funeral home to his house just to take him back for the service, but his father wanted a procession, and Steve had agreed with Eddie. It was best to just do what he wanted.
"Steve, your grandad is here," Robin said, pausing her widows walk at the window. "Or at least, I think it's your grandad, he looks like you … just really old. But somehow he's still got the hair." Robin sounded impressed as she waved her hand around her head to emphasize her point.
"That's probably where the similarities end," Steve said, getting to his feet and opening the door before his grandfather had a chance to knock.
His grandfather wasn't alone. A blonde woman who looked closer to Steve's age was hanging off his arm. He was sure he was supposed to know the woman's name, but the rate his grandfather went through women would put Hugh Hefner to shame.
"Steven." Steven Sr said, letting himself into the house. "About time the Harrington name finally vacated this backwater cesspool." He said, taking in the moving boxes stacked around the hall. "Your father really shit the bed when he moved here, of all places."
"Nice to see you too, Gramps," Steve grumbled as Gabe wandered over. He peered from behind Steve's legs at the man he had met probably a handful of times in his short life.
"Let's not pretend, Steven. It's beneath us both."Steven Sr said, casting a doubting eye over Robin, where she had started up her pacing again. Then he turned his attention to the other woman in the room. Much to the irritation of Lana, who had followed her son's lead and now stood at Steve's side. An artificial grin was plastered on her face.
"Monsure Harrington, always a pleasure." She said, holding out a hand for his grandfather to kiss. The blonde on his arm reacted exactly the way Lana had wanted. Blonde might be a gold digger, but Lana wrote the playbook for getting what she wanted. "How is retirement treating you? A life of showgirls and roulette tables sounds divine."
"Ah, Miss Cadieux, the pleasure as ever is all mine. Retirement isn't everything it promised to be, I'm afraid. I miss the golf with your father. He's well, I presume?"
Steve couldn't believe he was standing here listening to this like he was at some sort of business meeting. His grandfather hadn’t even acknowledged Gabriel's existence, let alone asked if Steve was alright.
He was saved from his temper by the funeral cars pulling up outside the house. Gabriel led the way once he saw that it was Eddie getting out of the first car. He barreled towards him in his tiny suit and wrapped his arms around Eddie's waist.
"I see we are yet to teach the child decorum." Steven Sr said, voice dripping in disapproval.
"Eddie is his friend," Steve said, trying his hardest not to rise to his Grandfathers bait. "And he is six years old and upset about his grandfather dying. Unlike you, Eddie actually cares about him."
Steve left his grandfather to his own devices, walking over to the Hurse that Eddie had been traveling in. His father's casket sat on display in the back, draped in violets and lavender. Steve's final dig on his mother's behalf from beyond the grave. Harry waved from the driver's seat; two men that Steve didn’t recognise sat behind him. When Steve looked at the second car, the one he would travel in with the rest of the family, Wayne gave him a polite nod from the driver's seat. He looked incredibly uncomfortable in his mourning suit.
"He wanted to be here in case you needed him," Eddie explained, walking over hand in hand with Gabe. He reached to grasp Steve on the shoulder. He knew Eddie's instincts were to pull him into a hug. But for the sake of propriety, he had rained himself in.
Steve hadn't seen Eddie in his full undertaker garb; he had seen him in various combinations of business dress, mainly black shirts and button-downs, which hadn't been all that different from his usual wardrobe, just fewer holes. But to see him now, in a preseed black tailcoat, boots shiny and hair neatly tied to the nape of his neck. Steve found himself sending a silent prayer to his dad for wanting to be buried in Hawkins. For making sure this man came back into his life. Even if it had just been a coincidence. Eddie was standing in front of him when he needed him, and if it was the only good and right thing his father had done, it was something real.
"Sorry, my suit isn't Italian," Eddie said quietly. "Bond Street, London, the most expensive thing I own, not gonna lie. I mean, the cane that goes with this getup costs more than my guitar."
"London is pretty fancy. I'll take you some time." Steve said, more than aware that he had eyes on him.
"I'll hold you to that," Eddie said, smiling sweetly. "Come on, we'd better load up. Are you still wanting to help carry the coffin, or do you just want the ushers to do it ?" Eddie asked, as if Steve hadn't already said he would a million times. He just nodded as he led Gabe to the second car. "You want to sit up front with Wayne? Or in the back with dad ?" Eddie asked. Pointlessly, really, because Gabe let go of Eddie's hand and ran to the front of the car to climb in with Wayne without even answering.
"I wouldn't want to sit in the back with these either; it didn't get any better after you left. And now Grandad is here, it's only gonna get worse." As if on cue, Robin joined them.
"Please, can we just bury your dad so I can get a stiff drink inside me and get away from your ex. Also, your grandad is an ass. And Missy is a closeted case. She's spent the last five minutes undressing the angel of death with her eyes. So you know, that's fun." Robin said, opening the car door and climbing in. "Eddie, come on, let's get this on the road."
"Your better half has spoken," Eddie said, holding the car door open for Lana as she approached. She gave Eddie an appraising up and down before she smirked at the pair of them and daintily slid into the car. Missy and Steven Sr were next. And in true Harrington fashion, his grandfather ignored Eddie entirely; he never really held much time for the help.
Eddie rolled his eyes at Steve as he closed the door, walking around to the other side and opening the door across from Robin. "Your chariot awaits."
Steve couldn't move. A sudden rush of fear and finality had hit him. Eddie carefully closed the door and headed back around to his side of the car.
"Come on, Stevie, you have this," Eddie said, and it was obvious to Steve that he wanted to offer more than a comforting word. "Gabe needs you today ." It was that that shook Steve out of his shock. He let Eddie lead him around the car, and felt Robin's hand reach out to grab his own as Eddie opened the car door again.
"You got him?" Eddie asked, professional demeanor slipping momentarily as Steve was handed off to Robin.
"I got him. You do your job and I'll do mine." She said. Steve bearly registered Robin buckling his seat belt. "Get us to the funeral, I don't know how long we have before he breaks down and loses that last strand of sanity he's hanging on to."
Behind her in the car, Lana scoffed. "Always with the worst possible scenario, et tu m'appelles le dramatique."
"Not the time, Lana." Robin snapped.
"Is Dad alright?" Gabriel piped up from the front of the car. Eddie went to answer, but Wayne beat him to it.
"He's fine, Gabriel, your pops just a little nervous. He will be fine when we get to the funeral." Wayne said gruffly, but not unkindly. "Now we need to get a move on, so if Eddie could just get to his own car, we can get going."
Steve was vaguely aware of everything happening around him, of Eddie closing the door and Lana and Robin bickering in French, low as not to let it carry forward to Gabriel. He felt the car start, and could sense Wayne's eyes on him, checking up on him in the rear-view mirror.
It took no time at all to travel the short distance to the funeral home, and as they pulled into the last stretch, the cars came to a stop.
"Steve, do you want to walk the procession?" Wayne asked, turning in his chair. Eddie had already asked yesterday, just like carrying the casket. But that was before Steve had broken down numb.
"Yeah."
"You don't have to if you don't want to, babe," Robin said, softly squeezing his hand. When had she taken hold of his hand? He couldn't remember.
" I want to. Dad wanted me to." Steve said, pulling his hand free from Robin's to undo his seatbelt. His eyes were fixed on the casket in the car in front. "You don't have to, but I'd like you with me."
"Course, dingus," Robin said, undoing her own seat belt.
Steve watched as Eddie got out of the lead car, followed by the two ushers who made their way to the car Steve and his family were sitting in to open the doors. Up front, Eddie took his position at the head of the procession. His top hat was now in place, and his walking cane was in hand. He looked every bit the Victorian Nobel.
The Harrington party fell into step behind the hearse and the casket. Robin, holding one of Steve's hands, and Gabriel the other. It helped, having the people he loved the most grounding him and having Eddie to look at as they fell into quite a procession.
Steve chanced a look at the crowd that had gathered outside the funeral home. His Fathers business associates, people in suits that looked no different than if they were going to the office. He spotted Tommy and Carol, the latter in her wheelchair, Tommy pretending he cared. He was only here to follow up on the threat from the other day. Pathetic. But not a surprise. Steve saw people he recognized and many he didn't. It was easy to pick out the ones who were there for Steve and Gabriel and the ones who were there just to save face. Because none of these people were his father's friends. He didn't think that a single person here would mourn the man. Not in the way you were supposed to, anyway.
They came to a stop outside the front doors, and Steve handed Gabriel off to Robin as Wayne walked past them, signaling for Steve to follow.
He had expected his dad's casket to be heavy. But as the weight settled on his shoulder, he felt nothing at all. Across from him, Wayne counted them in, and the slow march from the back of the hearse to the set down felt like even less.
Eddie and the ushers brought the flowers in and placed them around the casket as Steve watched. Finally, Eddie walked over with one red rose and handed it to Steve. At some point, when he had been watching the men work, the rest of the family group had made their way into the room. Robin handed Gabriel back to Steve, his own rose in hand, and the two of them walked up and placed them on the coffin as the rest of the congregation filed in. His grandfather followed suit with his own rose before joining Steve in the front row. Lana silently took her place next to Robin in the second.
"He has a nerve." Steve Sr muttered as someone else approached the coffin. He was carrying his own rose and spoke quietly to the casket before kissing the wood and placing the rose alongside the ones the Harrington men had left.
"Ethan?" Steve said aloud, and the blond man turned to look at him. There was no mistaking him. This was every bit the man that Steve had seen in the photos and read about in his father's letters.
"Mr Ethan?" Gabriel asked, confused at seeing someone he recognised. And now that Steve was looking face-to-face with him, Steve recognized him too. "Did you know my Grandad?" Gabe asked, not caring that half the room was now full or that Steven Sr was indignantly huffing beside him.
"I did, young man, I did indeed." He answered Gabe, when he looked at Steve, his eyes were watering. Steve knew he was holding back tears. This almost stranger was more affected by his dad's passing than his own flesh and blood. "I'm sorry for your loss," Eathan said quietly, ignoring Steven Sr just as much as Gabe had.
"And I'm sorry for yours," Steve said, and he found he meant it.
"Blasphomus bullshit."Steven Sr said, pushing past Steve to get to Eathan. "You have no right to be here, Rhodes," he said, getting into Ethan's face.
Ethan didn't even blink. A lifetime of working in gay bars will do that to a man.
"Out of the two of us, only one of us ever loved your son, Harrington," Ethan said venomously, taking a step back and joining the row of mourners on the other side of the aisle from Steve.
"You have no right to say that you… you…"
"Gentlemen. Please, can we keep any hostilities till after the service?" Eddie said, placing himself between the two men. "Steve, are you ready to start?"
Steve could hear the raised voices before he even got to the door.
Hopper stayed with the car, having another sneaky smoke before he went inside. Eddie had already chastised him in the car. It fell on deaf ears.
Eddie worried as they walked up to the house, and Steve didn't blame him. Steve was used to the dramatics of Harrington family gatherings, but to an outsider, the volume could come as quite a shock. He had tried the entirety of Gabriel's short life to keep him away from the angrier side of the family. But it seemed that today, Gabriel was going to get a crash course in what it meant to be a Harrington.
Steve had a sneaking suspicion the raised voices inside were a continuation of the altercation earlier in the church.
Ethan and Steven Sr were in a heated argument in the hallway, with all eyes on them. Lana, hovering like some sort of gothic referee.
His Grandfather turned to him as soon as he spotted him, "Steven, tell this man to leave, will you?"
"You can't control Steve the same way you did Stevie, you miserable old trout," Ethan said, wafting his drink around. "He tried everything to be the man you wanted him to be, and look where he ended up." Ethan said, taking a sip of his drink, "You wouldn't just let him be himself."
"Be himself and become what? You were nothing but a money-grabbing cabaret act; you used him. Used him to get at the family money. I knew a gold digger when I saw one." Steven Sr spat, his own drunk waving around like a signal flare.
"A gold digger?" Ethan shot back, "Have you looked at what's hanging on your arm? You think that woman is with you for love? She's more a friend of Dorothy than I am." Ethan threw back, and Missy gave herself away by laughing. "Everything I have I built from the ground up."
"You corrupted my son for our money." Steven Sr said, stepping forward.
And as if sensing this was the perfect time to stir the pot, Lana jumped between them. "That's interesting. Just out of curiosity, I'm sure there isn't any connection in any way, but…Did you know that Steve is investing in the Funeral Business?" She said with a smirk. "Partners with Eddie, since Eddie couldn't get the banks' backing himself."
"Is this true?" Steven Sr asked, turning his vitrol towards Steve, who just shrugged. It only made his grandfather somehow angrier, not that Steve knew how that was at all possible.
"So you're going to come running back to this deadbeat town, just like your father before you, and for what?" He pointed at Eddie. "Some fairy?" Steven Sr asked, but Steve ignored him, not giving him the benefit of rising to the taunts. He saw Robin make to move and he waved her off. His grandfather was full of hot air. He also had nothing to do with the company or Steve's life choices. He didn’t care if the man disapproved. Ethan was right; he had no control over him.
"Ethan, can I talk to you for a moment?" he asked, stepping past the congeragation in the hallway and towards the stairs. Eddie looked at him in confusion, but didn't intervene. He would have his own battles to fight soon enough if the look on Lana's face had anything to do with it.
"Anything to get me away from this homophobic asshole," Ethan said, walking past Steven Sr and following Steve Jr up the stairs.
Steve removed the box from the safe and placed it on the desk. He wasn't sure why he was doing this. But he needed closure, and the truth. This seemed the easiest way to get it.
"What's this?" Ethan asked.
"My dad kept the letters you sent him. I don't know if you want them back. I thought about bringing them back to San Fransico, finding you if you didn't turn up at the funeral, but you did." Steve shoved the box across the desk. "Take them."
Ethan took a seat, slowly opening the box. He pulled the first letter out and looked at his own handwritten love note. He flicked through the box until he reached the photos. The tears that had threatened to spill in the church came now, sliding down the older man's cheeks and splashing on the paper.
"You really did love my dad, didn't you?" Steve asked, passing the man the fancy Italian pocket square from his jacket so he could dry his tears. Steve didn't know his father knew how to love. He couldn’t align his image of his dad with the man in the box.
"I know it's hard for you to believe. You have only ever known him as the THING his father made him into." Ethan said, wiping at his eyes. He pulled the photo that had prompted the tears from the box to show Steve. "I moved to Vegas when I was thirteen. I was this little redneck kid who had never fit in back home and fit in even less with the upperclass kids that I was put in class with. You're dad was different. Everyone knew the Harringtons. They owned the big Casino with the huge peacocks on the side." Ethan pulled the flyer for the casino ballroom out. "Your dad was an outcast. He had money, but he was strange. Did anyone ever tell you just how your Grandmother died? The reason there's no Peacocks on the outside of your family hotel anymore?" Ethan asked.
Steve shook his head. He knew his Grandmother had died long before he came along, but whenever he would ask about her, his parents would just say that she succumbed to her ailments.
Ethan sighed. "Sounds about right. The Harringtons have always been a family that didn't talk. Your Grandmother threw herself from the roof. " Ethan said, not even trying to sugarcoat it to make it easier to swallow.
"You what?"
"Hit the peacocks on the way down. She hated what your Grandfather had become. He turned into a worse version of your great-grandfather. Didn't care about anything but money. She married the man she loved. But he had turned into a shallow, money-driven monster. But back then, divorce wasn't an option. Even for the rich. I think she married for love. I think she died for the same reason. Your father was ten at the time."
Steve sat down. He had no idea; it was never spoken about at all.
Ethan continued. "We didn't really do therapy back then either, you just got on with it. I don't think your dad knew how to. Get on with it, I mean. When I first met him, he was trying his hardest to fit in, and he failed at every hurdle. We were two losers together, instant friends." Ethan said, sliding the photo of the two of them in the matching varsity jackets to Steve.
"We brought out the best in each other. Pushed each other till we both made the team. And outside of sports, we pushed each other in other ways. I know you know what I mean. I've seen you in my bar. You're dad was a really great singer. I loved to dance and perform, but it wasn’t easy to be like us when society told us we needed to be something different. " Ethan said with a sad smile.
"My mother was a showgirl in the casino, and Stevie would spend many a night watching her perform. I would join him after I bused the tables, and nobody was ever going to kick us out, not the boss's kid and his friend." Ethan reminisced, "But your Grandad was getting suspicious. After we graduated, I got a job working at the casino in the bar where my mother worked. I danced in the chorus line and barbacked while your dad learned the ways of the family business. He traveled with his dad and attended new hotel openings with the rich and famous. While I cut lemons and wondered what it would be like to be the one to dance with the feathers and sparkle rather than a fitted suit. But whenever Stevie was home, he was never out of the bar. We spent too much time together, and then Stevie stopped bringing pretty girls to the hotel restaurant on dates."
"And Grandad noticed?" Steve asked.
"He did indeed. He fired my mother and me, then sent Stevie away. My mother died not long after. Heart attack." Ethan said sadly. "So I moved back to the only people I had in my life. My sister and Gran. They lived here in Hawkins, Gran's in the old cemetery now, bless her, but my sister is still about. She's an accountant; she was the one who told me Stevie had died. I'll get you family rates when you take over the funeral home…" Ethan said as he folded and unfolded the pocket square. "Anyway. I moved back here, and then, lo and behold, not five years later. Who should turn up with his new wife?"
"Dad?" Steve guessed.
"That's right, Steven Richard Harrington. You're grandfather always gets what he wants. He wanted his son to have the perfect little family, and your father was stupid enough not to fight him over it. Steven-Richard and Stevie are two different people, but Stevie was always still there just beneath the surface." Ethan pulled out the letters. He flicked through them till he reached the oldest in the stack. "I started writing to your father when you were about two. I just wanted him to know I had never stopped caring."
Steve knew that feeling better than he would like to admit.
"Were you the reason my mother went on all the business trips?" Steve asked.
"I was part of the reason, yes. I met your father to talk. Only to talk, mind you. And then Steven Senior found out, he had always been suspicious as to why Stevie had picked Hawkins of all places to start his family. But Stevie knew me just as much as I knew him. He knew I would move here after my mother died. It wasn't a coincidence. You're grandfather got wind of it and hounded me out of town. I couldn't go back to Vegas; he made sure of that. So I headed further west, settled in San Francisco, met a wonderful man, opened a bar, and was a widower by the time I was thirty-five." Ethan sighed. "I kept in contact with your father, though, through the letters. Elisabeth knew something was suspicious about it all. Your father didn’t really have many friends. "
"That’s an understatement." Steve scoffed.
"Well, he was an acquired taste," Ethan said, flipping through the photos. "He came to San-fransisco after my Marcus died. A business trip under the guise of scouting out potential expansion in the bay." Ethan chuckled to himself, but it was a hollow thing. "He came to find me. His father be dammed. I won't tell you what happened; some things you don’t need to hear about your parents." Steve chuckled at that, a real one, different from the pained thing that had left Ethan's chest. Ethan sounded like Robin. "You're mother got suspicious, of course, she knew enough about the business and your Grandfather's homophobic tendencies to know he would never set up shop in the bay. She also knew that your father was a coward when it came to me. She had the upper hand. Caught us red-handed as it were. Although I think she always knew. She kept silent about me and Stevie in exchange for her own shares in the company and a seat on the board of directors. I may have been the catalyst, but I wasn't the cause. Your mother was a shrewd businesswoman; she had just been biding her time."
"So she only got with my dad for his money?" Steve asked, and from what he knew of his dear departed mother, he didn't put it past her.
"As far as I could tell. And fair play to her. It worked. But your father still wouldn't give everything up, give you up, to be with me. I foolishly thought that when your Grandfather retired and your mother asked for a divorce, he might finally admit to the world what he was, what we were. Then your mother died, he blamed himself. Then he realized just how much he had pushed you away when you wanted nothing to do with him. He loved you, but he realized far too late that he had done the same thing to you as his own father had done to him. His little boy was more like him than even he had given you credit for. He never forgave himself for not encouraging you to go after your young man."
"Eddie?"
"Yes, Eddie. He had just started working here when my grandmother died. Your father had tried to find him in Chicago for you. The guilt of what he did, the way he treated you, it was too much for him. But by the time we found out Eddie had moved back to Hawkins, you and your father were no longer speaking. He knew where you were in San-Fransisco. He was just too stubborn and too scared to actually confront you. Tell you everything. That isn't the Harrington way. You know your family better than anyone." Ethan said.
"Why was he in San-Fransisco?" Steve asked, already sure he knew the answer. "You?"
"He had already sold his places in New York and Washington. This house in Hawkins was the last property. He was back here to sell up and move to San-fransisco." Ethan said, looking across the desk, waiting till he had Steve's full attention. "To be with me." He added, as if Steve hadn't already worked that out. "He also wanted to be closer to you and Gabriel. Try to make up for everything he had done. To you, to me. He wanted to try."
"But the company…" Steve started.
"Didn't need to know, Stevie finally realized that. And as soon as he did, his father had no hold on him. The realization that he didn't owe his business partners any access to his private life. It freed him. Although I'm going to have to explain why he gave me a share in the company, it will probably have him shuffling in his urn. I loved Stevie, but I never wanted his money, Steven." Ethan said with a sigh, starting to pack away the letters and the photos, safely in the protection of the shoebox of lost dreams. "I wanted this." He said, sealing the box. "This life I could have had."
"But dad didn't know how to show love, did he? That was always his answer: throw money at it." Steve said bitterly, "He's saddled me with the company if I like it or not. Whatever comes from it, it's time for change. I don't want to take over Dad's business. I never wanted to even work for him in the first place. I'm selling my shares. I'm very much a silent partner. When Gabe is old enough to choose what he wants to do with his share of the company. That's his decision. But I want to be here in Hawkins."
"With Eddie?" Ethan asked.
"Yeah. With Eddie." Steve said. He couldn't help but think this was a conversation he should have had with his dad, would have had with his dad soon if what Ethan was saying was the truth. "I meant what I said at the funeral. I am sorry for your loss. I'm sorry my family did that to you." Ethan got up, tucked the box under his arm, rounded the desk, and shook Steve's hand.
"You didn't do this. You're family didn't do this. Your Grandfather did. But chin up, buttercup. Any luck the next funeral we attend will be his."
Steve couldn't help it; the laugh was out before he even regretted it.
"Come on, we can't deny Steven Senior a chance to do the funniest thing he could right now and have a heart attack at finding out both his son and his grandson are… what did he call us… Oh yes, Fairies."
They walked downstairs into a full-blown war. Lana had turned on Eddie. Just like Steve had imagined she would. And just like Eddie had guessed, accusations were being thrown at him about using Steve for his money. Steven Sr was almost puce. He looked like he was about to explode, like a bad B-movie zombie.
"I think we should have been careful what we wished for," Steve said, looking as his Grandad stumbled and Hopper had to help him find a seat.
"Maybe your young man could do a two-for-one special. Harrington would like that." Ethan said, raising an eyebrow and heading towards the drinks table. The crowd had thinned now; only the truly nosey were still hanging on.
All of Steve's closest family were too busy arguing to have even noticed that most of them had left.
"Lana, why do you care what Eddie does with his money?" Robin yelled, trying to get between the two of them, but right now, both Lana and Eddie were having none of it. Steve had a type, alright.
"I'm not using Steve's money. It's my money, Robin. You aren't helping things." Eddie said, exasperated.
"Not the point, numbskull. The sentiment is the same." Robin reasoned.
"It really isn't dear," Joyce said as she rushed off to make sure Steven Sr wasn't indeed having the heart attack that the queers had tried to curse him with.
"She has a point, you know. Clever woman that Maldonado." Ethen said, looking far too happy at all the chaos for a man who had just buried the love of his life.
"It's Hopper now, Ethan," Joyce shouted from the kitchen just as Hopper himself finally came in to join the chaos. This time, from the back yard, he had obviously sneaked out for another smoke. He looked guilty.
"What's me?" He asked, confused, joining his wife. As the fight grew louder behind him. Joyce looked like she was about to explain when all hell broke loose in the living room. Steve was torn between checking on his grandfather and the chaos that was happening on the other side of him.
Eddie and Robin seemed to have joined forces, and Steve knew that was only going to make Lana seven times worse.
Lana threw her wine glass down, and the red started seeping into the carpet almost immediately. "It's irrelevant. I do not care what Steve does with his money. But my son's future-"
"Is tied up in Harrington Resorts. Not whatever I chose to do, or not do with my money. His money is his own. I could give all mine away and go live in the desert in a tipi, and it still wouldn't damage him financially, " Steve said, raising a finger to Lana's lips to silence her. "Speaking of Gabe … where is he?"
Steve looked around. He was good at taking stock of his people in chaos, one of the few good things the Upside-down had taught him. "No, seriously, where's Gabe? He was with you, wasn't he, Joyce?"
"I thought he had gone upstairs with you," Joyce said as she handed off a glass of water and an Advil to Steven Sr, her attention now drawn away from the bitter old man.
"Has anyone seen him?" Steve asked again, the panic starting to set in.
"Not since we got here," Eddie said, looking around as if Gabe might just be hiding in place.
Everyone fell silent.
"Gabe?" Steve shouted up the stairs, but there was no answer.
"I didn’t see him come out the back," Hopper said, getting to his feet and checking the back yard through the window.
"I'll check upstairs," Lana said, taking two steps at a time. Returning a few minutes later, pale and worried. "He's not upstairs."
The sinking feeling turned into a sickly worry; they had all been so preoccupied that nobody had been watching.
His one job was to make sure his son was safe, and he had failed. Just like his father had always said he would.
Gabriel was missing, and it was all Steve's fault.
Notes:
Un horizon des événements apocalyptiques - an appocolyptic event horizon
h bien, le monde tourne autour de moi, pourquoi la fin des temps ne le ferait-elle pas aussi ?- Well, the world does revolve around me, why shouldn't the end of times also
Je te méprise- I despise you
Le sentiment est réciproque- the feeling is mutual
quand votre lesbienne de compagnie arrête de mordre si facilement,-when your pet lesbian stops biting so easily
Chapter Text
He couldn't breathe. Panic gripped him, and his body felt like it didn't belong to him. He was a passenger in a hollow shell. Everything felt distant, yet somehow, at the same time, overwhelming, like he was drowning in air
But he knew that in an emergency, he could do a lot worse than the people springing into action around him.
Hopper had already checked the pool, and Wayne had already called the diner to speak to Keith. He would make sure every business and person that walked through the town centre would know they were on the lookout for a tiny kid in a suit.
Robin and Joyce had already left. They would start next door and work their way outwards.
Ethan had taken his car and had joined the search. He wore a look of guilt that wasn't his to bear, even if he had been the catalyst that set off the snowball of disaster until it accumulated enough mass and speed to smash everywhere, causing the current damage.
Steve was trying his damndest to calm down; he had to think. He had to get his head in the game. Outside, the sky darkened with ominous clouds, and he watched as the first heavy fat drop of rain hit the window.
"He can't have gotten far. It's not like he knows Hawkins all that well." Eddie was saying while he and Hop tried to work out where the kid could have run off to.
"This is all my fault," Lana said from the other side of the kitchen counter. Her uncharacteristic admission of guilt turned Steve away from the window. Her normal blasé demeanor was completely abandoned, panic and real emotion etched on her face for the first time since she had given birth. She was hugging tightly to Gabe's Jack Skellington plushy, looking more vulnerable than Steve had ever seen her. He knew she was blaming herself just as much as Steve was.
They didn't fight in front of Gabriel. Neither of them had wanted him to go through what they both had when they were small. Yet they had broken their own rules, and now they were paying the consequences.
"Did anyone else know that Gabe had come into money?" Hopper asked.
"Myself, the family, Steve, and Mr Rhodes. Why?" Lana asked.
"Just covering the bases," Hopper said, writing things down on the notepad he had grabbed from beside the phone.
"Do you think someone…" Lana went pale." Kidnapped him?"
"I hate to say it, but we can't rule it out," Hopper said as Callahan and the rest of the cops from the station arrived. That sinking feeling started to pull him down further; the only thing keeping him afloat was Eddie's hand as it slid into his own.
"We'll find him, Steve," Eddie said as chaos continued around them.
Eddie hated this, hated that there was nothing he could do but sit with Steve and hope that someone called with some good news sooner rather than later.
The search party had retraced the route from the funeral home, checked the pool, and the park. Wayne and the guys from the bowling teams had scoured the woods between the Harrington place and the land that used to house the trailer park. It had turned up nothing. Eddie hadn't expected that it would. The woods behind Steve's had an unusual aura about them, even now. Even Gabe would be unwilling to wander off that way.
It was getting late, not that Hopper was about to call it a day. He would have the force searching high and low until daybreak, when reinforcements from the next town over would be called in.
One by one, people left. Soon enough, only the immediate family, Eddie, and Robin remained. Joyce left Steve with a bone-breaking hug and Eddie with a promise to look after him.
"This is bullshit," Robin said, getting to her feet. "I'm going out again."
"I'm coming with you," Lana said, jumping to her own feet. " I cannot sit here and wait; I need to be doing something. I need to find my little boy." It was a testament to how awful things were that Robin didn't protest, just grabbed her car keys from the sideboard and headed to the car.
"I have my phone," Lana said, sweeping down and kissing Steve on the cheek. Then, to Eddie's shock, she did the same to him; the hostilities from earlier evaporated into nothing. It was clear that Lana was blaming herself for everything just as much as Steve was.
"Eddie, please, call as soon as-" She sobbed, choking on her own words; it seemed to be enough to shock Steve out of the shocked stupor he had been in since Gabe disappeared.
"We should go look too," was the first thing Steve had said in hours.
"Are you sure you're up to it, Sweetheart?" Eddie asked, slipping his hand into Steve's. Eddie couldn't pretend he wasn't relieved that Steve seemed to be back with them. The staring into space was too close to memories he had tried hard to forget.
"No, but I need to find him. I can't get you back, just to lose him." Steve said, squeezing Eddie's hand.
Across the room on the sofa, Steven Sr gave a disgruntled huff, getting on the very last of Eddie's already frayed nerves. "You got something to say, old man? Or have you wrecked enough lives for one lifetime?"
"How dare you!" Steven Sr said, getting to his feet and storming towards Eddie and Steve. He puffed his chest out, trying to make himself look bigger. Eddie almost laughed in his face, would have if he hadn't been so worried about Gabe and Steve.
"Am I wrong? " Eddie said, not even trying to hide his disdain. He knew this was the head of Steve's family. He knew he should probably show him a little more respect. But as far as Eddie was concerned, respect was a two-way street and Steven Sr was currently acting like a roadblock on a one-way road. "If you want to make yourself useful, go away."
"Steven. Are you going to let him talk to me like this?" Steven Sr said affronted.
"Yes, I think I am," Steve said as he walked past his grandfather, barely sparing him a glance. He busied himself changing out of his expensive shoes, pulling on his battered and worn Nikes. When he had fastened his laces, he finally took notice of Steven Sr, who was gaping like a catfish on a line.
"When we get back, I want you gone," Steve said calmly. "It was nice to meet you, Missy. I won't hold my breath on meeting you again."
"Steven Harrington. I refuse to let you talk to me like that." Steven Sr said angrily, making a move to walk towards Steve, but Eddie stepped in his way.
"Well, the way I see it," Eddie said, as he made himself into a human shield. "Steve doesn't owe you anything. And he has asked you to leave. Now Chief Hopper is next door, and as much as it might not look it, he's a very, very good friend of mine. So I advise you to do what your grandson asks you to… And scram. " Eddie said as Steve grabbed a torch and a familiar baseball bat from the hallway closet and set off towards the door, pointedly ignoring his Grandfathers glare.
He walked out into the night, nail bat in hand and determination in his stride while rain came down on him thick and fast, just like it had the night that Steve's dad had been brought from the hospital. Eddie hoped that it wasn't an omen. Steve was in no fit state to drive, but Eddie was scared to fight him on it right now, in case he sent him off on another spiral.
"I will cut you off, Steven." Steven Sr shouted after them as Eddie headed to the door after Steve, who had just reached the door of the rental.
"From what? I own the company." Steve shouted back at him over the thunderous rain. "You have no power over me, old man, I'm not my dad."
Steve Sr followed them out into the rain. Grabbing at Eddie's sleeve, "You did this. You made him like this!" The old man yelled as Eddie shrugged him off.
"I did nothing; this is all Steve," Eddie said as he broke free from the other man's grasp. "And you would know that if you actually gave a shit about your family in more than just name."
"How dare-"
"How dare I?" Eddie cut across him. "I dare because I love Steve. Steve doesn't want you here, and right now, you are the least of his problems. Go, or I'll call Hopper, and he'll make you leave. If you aren't going to help find your great-grandson, we have no use for you here." Eddie said, turning his back on the man and running to join Steve in the car.
They got to the end of the road before Steve had to pull over and let Eddie swap seats. He knew he wasn't in any fit state to drive; he had just wanted to get away from his grandad, and this was the fastest way.
"You still with me?" Eddie asked as he turned the radio on. Top 40 music filled the car, but Steve knew exactly why Eddie had done it. He had spaced out watching as the rain ran down the window. When he glanced over to Eddie, the worry lines were etched between his eyebrows, and his hand was tapping rhythmically on the wheel. Eddie moved when he was worried, a constant fidgeting mess. Somehow, that seemed to focus Steve more than any mundane pop music coming from the rental car's tiny speakers.
"I'm with you." He said, reaching over and stilling the hand that Eddie was drumming on the gear stick.
"I think we need to think like Gabe," Eddie said as he pulled up to one of the few traffic lights, "He's your son, you know him best, where do you think he would have headed?"
Steve's initial reaction would have been that Gabe would have headed to the funeral home or one of his pseudo-grandparents, but they had all checked their houses, and there was no sign of him.
"Where did Wayne take him?" Steve said, clinging to the hope that Gabriel would try to find somewhere he had found comfort in the last few days.
Eddie didn't answer; he just pulled away from the lights when they turned green.
"Ed?" Steve asked as they turned back towards the outskirts of town, a look of realization on Eddie's face as he put his foot down and the rain splashed heavier against the windscreen.
"I think I have an idea,"
Eddie shone the torch between the gravestones. It was a long shot, but Gabe had shown such a strong interest in the graveyard when he was with Wayne; it would be foolish not to follow up on Eddie's instinct.
They were also running out of options. At the last check-in with Hopper, he had suggested that they might have to send divers into the Quarry. It was all too much like Will's disappearance; Hopper didn't like it. He didn't believe in coincidence. Eddie hadn't shared that information with Steve. If the old cemetery came up a bust, then he would, but something was telling Eddie that there was no use in pushing Steve right over the edge when there was still a sliver of hope left.
The ground in the cemetery was uneven underfoot, made worse by the rain. It felt like a month's worth of rain had fallen since they had left the house. The ground sank as they stepped on it, marshy and muddy, finding any way it could to seep through Eddie's shoes as he carefully made his way between the graves. A few rows of headstones over, Steve was moving from plot to plot, swinging his torch in the same regimental fashion as Eddie. A skill learned at the end of the world, put to practical use in the here and now.
Steve's expensive suit was ruined, muddied up to the knees, and drenched through. Eddie had to admit, he prefered muddy and disheveled Steve over the stranger he had been this afternoon. He had never needed any of that polish and grandure, he had never wore it well. He had never needed anything but himself to shine, and right now Steve was beautiful. Everything that made him the man Eddie loved.
The graveyard forked at Eddie's grave, now his father's. They both paused for a moment, caught in the sight before them. It was the first time Steve had seen it without Eddie's name etched across it. ALASTAIR had replaced the EDWARD, but the sight of it still made Steve reach out and touch the rain-soaked carving, the same way Eddie had seen Steve do a million times while stuck in his Vecna-induced state.
"Come on, Stevie, no time to linger on the past, Sweetheart," Eddie said as a roll of thunder peeled out.
"Why are parents such dicks?" Steve asked, pulling his hand back from the grave.
"Because they're only human, just like us. It took me a long time to realise that. And even longer to forgive mine." Eddie said quietly.
"Do you think Gabe hates me and Lana?" Steve asked, the worry clear to see on his face, even if Eddie couldn't separate the tears from the rain.
"I think Gabe is 6," Eddie said carefully, knowing fine well Steve was struggling to keep his head straight, but not wanting to lie to the man he loved. "And he's trying to process a whole lot of information all in one go. I think he's scared. Scared of change, scared of things being different. And do you know what else I think?" Eddie asked, reaching out and taking Steve's face in his palm. "I think if there's anyone who knows how to deal with scared people, it's his dad. I know he made me feel safe when the entire world was out to get me. I know he was, and is, a safe space for Dustin and the rest of the little assholes. And I know that when we find Gabe, he's going to see just how scared he made his mom and dad, but know you love him just the same."
"You think?" Steve said hopefully, sniffing back the tears.
"I know," Eddie said, trying and failing to wipe away some of Steve's tears. "Now come on, let's find your son."
In silent agreement, they split up, Eddie to the left and Steve to the right.
This was the older part of the cemetery. The crypts and mausoleum were surrounded by large trees that changed the rain from a consistent downpour to large, heavy drops that rolled off the thick canopy of leaves. The thunder was muffled; it felt like it was a million miles away, even if the storm was raging just overhead. In the far distance, Eddie could make out Steve's torchlight as it disappeared and reappeared as he passed the thick tree trunks in the dark. It was reassuring. If Steve was moving, he wasn’t in a state of shock, which meant they could cover more ground.
Eddie was thankful he had taken this path; he knew this part of the cemetery well. He had found the same sort of solace in tending and repairing the memorials as he did in preparing people for their last journey. He knew where the tree roots were jagged and poked from the ground; he knew where they had filled holes and compacted earth from other places to fill the cracks that Vecna had left when he pulled and ripped the town apart. But more importantly, he knew where they still hadn't fixed. The plots that still sat open to the air. The crypt doors that didn't quite close.
A rustling up ahead caught his attention; he was thankful for the trees dampening the storm, or he wouldn't have heard the noise at all. He shone the light into the bushes, and it caught the reflection of a set of eyes, bright and round and unfortunately belonging to a rabbit. It scarpered for cover as the beam passed over it. Undeterred, he marched on, his jeans getting heavier with each patch of grass that gave way under his foot and left him up to his knees in groundwater.
He checked his watch; it had just gone past 9 pm. Gabe had been missing for five hours now. They had to find him soon. Eddie refused to believe either of Hopper's worst-case scenarios. He wasn't dead, and he hadn't been kidnapped. They were going to find him. They had to find him. The only other kid to have gotten under his skin and into his heart this fast was Henderson, and he had died for the kid. He knew he would do the same for Gabe.
He shone his torch into the crypt that the committee was currently working on, and was met with a pool of water, dark and foreboding, and absolutely not what he had been expecting. He had held hope that he had read Gabe right and that the kid had run to the place he had been with Wayne. But there wasn't any sign of him…
Then something caught his attention.
He shone his torch on the water; something was floating, something long and black. Eddie walked a few of the steps down into the crypt as far as he dared while the place was full of dark, muddy water. He reached out and grabbed the thing floating in the murky void. It was a tie. A black tie. It matched the one currently still hanging around Steve's neck.
Eddie plunged himself into the water, all fear of what was under the surface now gone. His only thought was of finding Gabriel, no matter what state he was when he found him. He trudged to the back of the crypt, hands running the floor, checking for the worst but hoping for the best…but there was nothing, no sign of Gabe bar the tie that Eddie now gripped firmly in his hand.
He knew better than to linger in the water too long. Hawkins was home to much more than interdimensional monsters. Black widows and copperheads were a very real threat, not to mention larger predators like coyotes and bears.
Gabe had been here, but he wasn't here now. Hopefully, he hadn't gone far. Hopefully, nothing else had gotten to him first.
Eddie trudged out of the crypt, clothes heavy with the extra weight of the water from his impromptu swim. He grabbed his torch from the ground at the top of the steps, where he had tossed it before plunging into the water.
He could logic this out. He was a DM; he could think four steps ahead at any time. If the Paton tomb was flooded, that meant most of the ones on his left would also be flooded; it looked as if the earthquake had sunk them under the water level. That meant that if Gabriel had searched out refuge from the storm, it would be in one of the tombs on the right. It was higher ground, and Gabe was a smart kid.
He pulled his phone from his pocket to call Steve, but it was dead. Waterlogged from his impromptu dip. He could go find Steve, but he could no longer see his torch through the trees, and now that Eddie had a trail, he didn’t want to let it go cold.
He trudged on, cold and aching, but determined.
He checked the next tomb along, nothing. And the next, and the next. He was almost at the end of the row when he stepped into a tomb and heard an unnatural crack. He looked down at the stone floor to see what it was he had stood on, and found Gabriel's mud-covered glasses lying abandoned just like his tie had been.
He was leaving breadcrumbs, even if not intentional ones. Gabe had come this way. But he wasn't here now. A hissing sound from deeper in the tomb was probably the reason why. Eddie didn't stick around to find out what kind of snake it was. He did pick up the dropped glasses, though, not that they would be much use to Gabe with a cracked lens.
The wind had picked up now, whipping through the trees.
Then he heard it, just above the sound of the storm. A tune on the wind. Someone was singing to themselves. Eddie couldn't pick out the words, but he recognised the tune. He followed the sound till the words became clearer, a tiny voice lost in the night.
"-Red 'n' black, and slimy green. Aren't you scared? Well, that's just fine. Say it once, say it twice. Take a chance and roll the dice." Gabriel's words were punctuated by sniffs and snuffles. He stopped singing as Eddie pushed the heavy iron gate, the creaking of hinges piercing the night.
"Gabriel?" Eddie asked loudly, announcing his presence. Not that he had any doubt, it was the youngest Harrington hiding behind the stone casket of the last mausoleum on the row. He kept the torch beam low so as not to blind him, aware that the kid was without his glasses and probably terrified.
"Eddie?" His small voice answered.
"Yeah, it's me, buddy. You okay?" Eddie asked.
Gabe didn't answer; he just let out a gut-wrenching sob. Eddie took that as a no. Gabe had picked one of the worst places to hide. The Washington crypt was condemned for a good reason; it had already started to sink, and the rain outside was only making the issue worse. He needed Gabe to come out. Ideally, without him having to go in, lest it end up like a scene from a real-life Indian Jones movie.
"Are you hurt?" Eddie shouted as the thunder cracked closer than he would like.
"I fell. There was a snake, and I got scared, and … I've lost my glasses, and Dad is going to be so mad." Gabe sobbed, still not coming out from behind the solid block of granite that held one of the Washington's long-dead bodies.
"What have you hurt?" Eddie asked, braving a step into the darkness. The floor slab slipped forward, and the gate beside him creaked in protest as he whipped an arm out to grab it and save himself from falling. The rotten Iron ripped his shirt as a broken bar ripped at his skin. Eddie froze. Gabe was going to have to come to him; there was no way the ground was sturdy enough for him to get across it.
"Am I in trouble?" Gabe asked, not answering the question, but brave enough to peek around the casket, the Harrington bravado making an appearance.
"Probably," Eddie said honestly, "But I think everyone's more worried about you than they are mad."
"They were shouting," Gabe said as he moved further into the light of the torch. He was covered in mud; it stuck to his hair, his jacket, and his shirt were caked in it. He looked wet and miserable, and the tracks of his tears were streaked through the filth on his face.
"I know we were, and I'm-" Eddie said as he tried to find a safe path to reach Steve's son.
"No, Mom and Dad," Gabe said, shaking his head as if trying to shake the image away from his mind. "They were shouting, they were fighting. Mom and Dad don't fight." He said with a sob.
"Your grandad made them angry. Not you." Eddie said, watching as Gabe pulled himself to his feet, Eddie didn’t like the look of the way he was holding his arm; he hadn't put any weight on it at all as he had tried to use the casket to pull himself up.
"They were arguing this morning, about me, about… you. I don't think Mom likes you kissing Dad," Gabriel said as he stepped forward. But the stone beneath him began to slide. He tried to steady himself again against the casket then yelled out in pain as his arm touched the stone.
"Gabe, did you fall on your arm?" Eddie asked, shining the torch across the damp floor, trying to work out if there was any sort of safe path for him to cross. He scanned to the left, the beam of light falling on what looked like it had once been a brace for the roof. It looked sturdier than the stone floor. It might be his best bet. "Does it hurt?"
Gabe gave another yelp of pain, and that was all Eddie needed to take a chance. He stepped onto the rotting old wooden beam. It felt soft underfoot, but at least it didn’t slide as he put his weight on it. "Stay still, I'm coming."
Carefully, he edged his way towards Gabriel until he was close enough that he could reach out. "Give me the hand that doesn't hurt," Eddie said, and Gabriel did just that. "Okay, on three, I need you to try and walk towards me, alright, the floor is going to move, but I have you."
"One. Two. Three." Both of them counted, and the next second, Eddie had arms full of a six-year-old. He pulled Gabe in as tight as he dared when the kid had what Eddie suspected was a broken arm. "I got you. I got you."
Gabe sobbed, burying his mud-covered face into Eddie's stomach.
"Steve!"
Steve could just about hear his name as the wind and the rain swallowed the sound of Eddie calling for him. Steve was starting to lose hope. He had been to the boundary and back, and still nothing.
Steve saw the beam of light heading towards him; the uniformed side-to-side sweeping was gone, and it bounced up and down as it got closer. Then he saw who Eddie was carrying, and he took off running toward him as fast as he could, as the ground slid underfoot.
Eddie had found Gabriel. Gratitude and love and a side helping of panic ripped through him as he slid to a stop.
They were both plastered in mud. Gabriel, perched on Eddie's hip, had his arm tied tightly to his chest with Eddie's shirt; he looked like he had been half-drowned. The arm around Eddie's neck held the torch, and Eddie was holding on to Gabriel like his life depended on it.
Relief flooded through him at the sight. Eddie, once again saving the day. Eddie had been right. In the few short days that he had been back in Steve's life, he had already proven time and time again that he knew Steve, but now he had proven he was already well on the way to knowing Gabriel as well. Steve's heart was almost ready to explode.
"Where were you!" Steve said as he rushed to plaster Gabriel with muddy kisses. The kid yelped as soon as he touched him, and Steve jumped back as if burned.
"I think he's broken his arm," Eddie said, readjusting his grip on Gabe. This close, Eddie also looked like he had been drowned; his clothes were soaked through, much more than just the rain would have caused. He was stripped down to his under vest, black like the rest of his wardrobe, but now covered in the same dark stains that covered his trousers and most of his visible skin. Steve tried not to think about how much it looked like blood in the dim light from the torch.
"I'm sorry, Dad." Gabriel sniffed, ducking his head further into Eddie's neck, seeking out protection.
"Apologies can wait; we need to get you to a hospital," Steve said, making to take hold of Gabriel, but the kid only clung tighter to Eddie. Steve tried not to let it sting. Eddie looked at him apologetically and mouthed 'sorry'.
"I found him in one of the crypts; he got spooked by a snake, dropped his glasses, and then got lost. Our gallant adventurer suffered a wound in his noble quest. But he's been very brave about it. Gabe, do you want to go to you're Dad?" Eddie asked gently. "I promise he's not going to yell at you."
"My arm hurts." He said by way of an answer, leaning out for Steve to grab him. After some careful shuffling, they managed to swap. Eddie took Steve's torch and bat and illuminated the path back to the car park.
Gabe felt heavy in Steve's arms, a far cry from the tiny, delicate baby that had changed Steve's world when he had come into it six years ago. Steve held him just as carefully as they made their way over the waterlogged grounds. His boy shivered in his arms, and he pulled him as close as he dared, conscious of the arm that Eddie had done the best to protect with the shirt from his own back. Eddie walked alongside them, a steady and stable presence. Suddenly moving back to Hawkins didn't seem that scary a prospect. Not when this was waiting for him.
The harsh overhead lights of the consulting room were not doing any favours to the ache that had started behind Steve's eyes, which was well on the way to becoming a full-blown migraine. He had been willing to use the family name to expedite their care, but as soon as they walked into the ER, the staff nurse pushed them through.
They had left a trail of muddy footprints in their wake. Steve had been right; some of the mud on Eddie was actually blood. A huge gash ran along his arm; something the man refused to have looked at until Gabriel was seen to. Just as stubborn as pig-headed as Steve when it came down to other people being looked after first. He wanted to be mad at Gabe for running away, but he couldn't find it in himself to do anything but feel lucky that he had people who were so quick to jump into action to help find him.
Both Gabe and Eddie had been cleaned up the best they could be, but both of them looked like they had army crawled out of the Upside-Down, and it was a look Steve would have preferred not to see on either of them.
Gabriel had broken his arm. Eddie had been right again. His son was sitting impeccably still as the Doctor cast his arm in plaster, looking at the X-rays with wonder as the Doctor explained them. He only stopped asking questions when Lana and Robin burst into the consulting room. The exasperated staff nurse yelled after them, completely ignored by both women. Lana went straight to her son, but Robin went straight to Eddie.
"You were supposed to call us!" Robin said, hitting Eddie in the arm, thankfully not the one that still had an untreated wound on it.
"My phone drowned," Eddie said, defending himself. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and shoved it into Robin's hand. "It's now just a glorified brick. Gabriel decided to become a tomb raider, and I had to dive to get him back. He's just lucky I know my way around a graveyard. Or he would have ended up with a lot worse than just a broken arm." Lana moved away from Gabe then; she was on Eddie in an instant, pulling him into her arms.
This was the first time Steve had heard of any of this; they hadn't talked in the car. Too busy trying to make sure that Gabriel didn't go into shock. But now he was warm and safe and pumped full of painkillers. Lana was here to share the burden of Gabriel's medical questions, which meant that Steve could turn his attention to Eddie, if he could get to the man past his Ex.
"Eddie's injured, be careful, Lana." He said, and she stepped back from the bone-crushing hug that she had pulled Eddie into. "He's going to get that looked at," Steve said pointedly as he gestured to the wound on Eddie's arm. The man shrugged, admitting defeat.
"I am sorry. This is all my fault." Lana said, ghosting a hand over Eddie's wound. "I have not made the best first impression. My jealous nature got the better of me." She had been crying again; it was the least put-together Steve had ever seen the woman. Even at their most debauched, she managed to hold herself with an air of grandeur, even if it had currently slipped in her current distress.
"Gabe's safe, that's all that matters," Eddie said as he finally let the nurse look at the open cut on his arm.
"No, it's my fault. I yelled, and I pushed, and I made everything worse. Eddie, I would like to get to know you properly. I was acting as if Steve was mine to lose, and he is not; he has always been yours. I just got to borrow him for a little while." Lana said, reaching up and kissing Eddie on the cheek.
"Yeah, Gabe said you had been fighting over me," Eddie said sadly, as the nurse cleaned the wound.
That sinking feeling swelled in Steve's stomach. So Gabe had heard more of the argument this morning than he had let on. Steve had a suspicion that he had, was that what had led him to run away?
"Lana was just questioning the time frame. She seems to think I'm rushing to move back home." Steve said quietly. Beside him, Lana was staring at him; he could feel her eyes on him as he watched Eddie in turn.
"I mean, that's understandable, we have only been back in each other's lives a week," Eddie said as he tried not to wince at the antiseptic being poured into his cut.
And it was true, it had only been a week, but it felt like a lifetime. It was a lifetime; everything he thought he knew had been turned on its head in seven short days. His father's dying had somehow been a blessing, a turning point, and a warning that Steve would be foolish not to heed.
His father had numerous chances to be happy, and he had thrown them all away. Steve thought of the way Ethan had cried over a life he should have had. Steve didn't want to live with a life of what-ifs… he wanted a life where he got to come home to the man he had never stopped loving. To a son that he adored. A son who knew that even though his family was unconventional, it loved him, no questions asked. Steve had never been more resolved in anything in his life. It might have only been seven days, but it was a decade in the making.
"Steve has always run headfirst into everything. I should know to trust his instincts, not question them." Lana said with a sigh. She turned to Eddie again, "You have proven to me that you deserve to be in my son's life, even if you do have the same stupid hero complex that possesses his father regularly."
"Don't get a big head over it," Steve said, watching as, layer by layer, the grime of the night was cleaned away from the neat gash on Eddie's arm. Another scar to add to the collection.
"Wouldn't dream of it, Stevie, but I don't want to be the thing that upsets the happy balance between the two of you," Eddie said, looking between them. "I don’t want you to fight over me."
"I don't like it when you fight." Gabe piped up from where the doctor was still setting his arm in plaster. He held his Jack Skellington to his chest like a lifeline, having had it returned from his mom.
Steve's heart felt like it was breaking; he knew that Eddie would kill this thing between them before it had a chance to grow if he thought it was going to harm Gabe. That was just the sort of person Eddie was.
Sure enough, Eddie jumped to the defensive. "If we need to take a step back, Stevie, I understand. Gabe comes-" Eddie started, but was cut off by Gabriel, whose patience for sitting still seemed to have waned alongside his tolerance for adult theatrics.
"Mom, I want to live here with Dad. I like it here. I made friends. Uncle Wayne is here, and so are Granny Joyce and Claudia, and Granda Hop." Gabe said, sounding so much wiser than his six years. "Mom, Dad smiles when he's with Eddie. I want Dad to smile. I don't like it when he looks sad. He always looks so sad when he thinks I'm not looking." Steve should have known that Gabriel wouldn't have missed his melancholy. He missed nothing. "When we came home. You said that you loved Dad, but you couldn't be with him. Eddie loves Dad. He should be with him. I want him to he happy."
Steve looked at Lana; her lip was quivering again. Steve wasn't sure how to deal with an emotional version of his Ex. He had never dealt with it firsthand before. If she had been like this when they were together, leaving her would have been a lot more traumatic. Maybe Lana was right, maybe he had always been hung up on Eddie. Looking at the two of them now, it was clear how similar they were. She nodded once, composing herself behind the tissue that Robin had offered her from the box on the counter.
"As ever, our Son is the voice of reason. I have no idea who he gets that from because apparently both of his parents are irrational idiots." She said, words still a little choked up. She took hold of Steve's hand and kissed his mud-covered knuckles. "We will always have Paris, mon amour. "
"I absolutely hated Paris," Steve said honestly.
"I know you did, but you put up with it for the time we were in love." She smiled her true smile, not the one that existed for the public, the one Steve had been privy to behind closed doors when things were still good. "But your heart has always been here in Hawkins." Lana took his hand and placed it on Eddie's, where it sat on the treatment table.
"Look after him," she said to Eddie as she moved away to go fuss over her son.
The nurse was doing her best to ignore the drama, but Steve knew that even in a reformed Hawkins, the gossip about him and Eddie would spread like wildfire, if it hadn't already after Hagans' outburst in the pizzeria. Steve found he didn't hate it. Let them talk. He wasn't going to hide who he was anymore, not from himself and not from anyone else either.
"I need to stitch this up, Eddie, is that alright?" The nurse asked.
"Yeah, it's fine, Sofia, I've had worse," Eddie answered. "Always here when I'm getting stitched back together again, aren't you, Harrington?"
"Hopefully, I always will be," Steve said, squeezing Eddie's hand in a promise.
One year later
Steve was supposed to be studying. But it was hard to concentrate when Eddie had his arms out. It was hard to concentrate when Eddie did most things now he knew he could touch and play till his heart was content.
But he was suposed to be reviewing for his first big exam. Not staring at his boyfriends biceps as he shimmied around up a ladder,dancing to music Steve could almost make out through the tiny speakers of his disc man. Eddie's lips were pursed in concentration as he added the last flick of paint to the sign he had been working on.
Instead of rembering the important names of all the buttons and dials on the crematori, Steve was watching as Eddie slid down the ladder and bent over to put the lid on the tin of white paint. The denim clinging to his ass was far too distracting compared to things like disintegration temperature of muscle tissue.
Eddie wiped his hands on his coveralls and meandered towards him, a look of satisfaction of a job well done plastered on his face.
Munson Family Funeral Home.
Head Funeral Director : Edward J Munson.
Junior Funeral Director in training: Steven Harrington.
EST: 1999.
"That looks mighty official," Steve said as he put aside the textbook to look properly at the finished project Eddie had been working on all morning.
"That's because it is official, Sweetheart," Eddie said, slipping onto the bench next to Steve and glancing at his notes. "You got Farenheit and Celsius mixed up, baby. 2000 Celsius would burn the entire building down, and we don't want to lose our home."
"Not when we only just got the place," Steve said, leaning in and kissing Eddie on the cheek. "Munson and Family, are you sure about-"
"Steve, yes, I'm sure. I know we're partners in every sense of the word. But you and Gabby are Family first. One day, maybe we will be able to change the sign to say Steven Munson, but until then… let people talk." Eddie said, waving his hand as if swatting away flies.
And oh, how Hawkins had talked. The fallout from his father's funeral had spread like wildfire through the town, and Steve and Eddie were the main source of gossip for a good few months. Especially when Steve had moved into the funeral home with Eddie once the Loch Nora house had sold.
Robin had sent his things one U-haul at a time, and by Christmas, Gabe and Steve were fully integrated back into Hawkins. The contents of that shoe box finally had a home, nestled between Eddie's trinkets and own memories. But the gossip had died down eventually, and to Steve's suprise, it hadn't had that much of an affect on business. Sure they still had some people avoid them; it was middle America. But Eddie was so respected in the community that any sort of backlash was met by at least three people on Steve and Eddie's behalf.
Steve had friends here, outside of Robin and the party. School, work at the funeral home and art clubs. Tuesday night bowling and weekends spent running Gabriel around town to visit his friends or attending the never-ending birthday parties. Steve's life had become a whirlwind of activities and life. A far cry from when he used to wander around the townhouse nursing a coffee for hours on end, at a loss for something to do.
Robin and Laura were moving here soon. They had found a house not far from Robin's old one, but Laura had to work her notice before they could move in. Steve was missing Robin like he would miss his own arm, but phone calls were easy, and barely a day went by that she wasn't on the phone keeping him up to date with gossip of her own. Of course, Gabe missed her just as much as Steve, but he had friends now, family to visit and places and things too do. A life Steve was more than happy to give him.
Gabe was due back from visiting Lana any day now. It felt strange not to be in the air collecting him himself. But Steve had his first year exams in a few days, and Ethan was more than capable of wrangling his youngest business partner on the way back from Paris. Robin had complained that she was missing Ethan back in San-Fransisco, he had become a constant bitchy point in all their lives, and it made Steve wonder what it would have been like if his father had managed to go through with his plans before his death. Would he have gotten to know the Stevie that Ethan had loved? The singer, the showman, the real man behind his fathers iron clad exterior? He still struggled to put his father in Ethan's stories, but photos proved they happened, and no lie on Ethan's face when he kept his lover alive through his words.
Steve hadn't heard from his grandfather since the funeral. It wasn't a great loss by any stretch of the imagination. It wasn’t like he had been around much in the first place. Although Steve selling his 2% to the Cadieux family had apparently gone down like a lead balloon. Lana had enjoyed telling them all about it when she had collected Gabe at the beginning of the summer. And as much as he loved Gabriel, Steve was endlessly thankful to his mother for taking him for summer break, because learning to be a funeral director was a lot more maths than Steve had expected.
"Are you sure I can't just show them that I can do all this?" Steve said waving his work book in the general direction of the crematorium. He had taken to the work like a natural. Eddie was a good teacher. People liked Steve, and Steve had always cared to much for his own good. He just hated the theory.
"If you want the title, you have to work for it princess." Eddie said with a smirk as he wiped his sweaty forehead on his bandana.
"I can't just sleep with the boss to get to the top of the company?" Steve asked with a playful wink.
"Baby please, never say that again. Keith used to be your boss, I don't need that image in my head!" Eddie said pretending to vomit.
"It'll be all you can think about on Tuesday when we take on Llama sutra, and its Keith's turn to bowl." Steve said with a chuckle, packing up his notebooks into their bag. He wasn't going to get much else done today. Not when Eddie was done with the sign. After all, he was Steve's number one distraction.
"I need to bleach my mind, I've seen some things in my life but the idea of-" Steve cut him off with a kiss. Or at least he tried to. Eddie continued to ramble on against his lips until Steve grabbed him by the back of his hair and he silenced like a scolded puppy.
"The new mortuary table comes tomorrow." Steve said as he let Eddie feel the grin that spread on Steve's lips against his own. "We should go say farewell to the old one. That should help with the whole mind bleach thing."
"Stevie, you're all kinds of nasty you do know that right?" Eddie said pulling him to his feet.
"Well, I learnd from the best wierdo I know." He laughed as he let Eddie pull him towards the staff entrance.
"Oh, Sweetheart, you know it." Eddie said as he pulled them through the door of their home.
A home with bodies in the basement and love in the attic and a whole lifetime of happiness in between.
Notes:
Honestly this has been a labour of love, and I'm so happy people have seen my vision!
Nothing but love for my Beta reader dame-loom-a-latte who has managed to get this to the finish line, and to Jo-Harrington and Raven-cl who's art has absouloutly made this thing a million times better.Thankyou for reading!
ThistleandDrag1 on Chapter 1 Sat 06 Sep 2025 01:24PM UTC
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