Chapter Text
Eddie has goals for this year. Goals that he’s so dedicated to that he’d written them down. All nice and neat, multicolored and on his good paper. Then Eddie had hung the list on his wall like it was some kind of vision board. Manifestation was probably just as bullshit as any organized religion was, but whatever. Desperation was getting to him, Eddie was willing to give it a try. So, tacked up next to his Judas Priest poster, there was the following list.
Goals for ‘85/‘86
-GRADUATE
-Find new members for Hellfire
-Perform somewhere new
-Attend every most classes
-Get a legal job
The last goal had been added at the urging of Wayne. It was, honestly, a well advised goal, considering most (read: all) of Eddie’s customer base consisted of Hawkins High students. A customer base that he would be largely unable to reach (conveniently, at least) once he was finally graduated. But… goals. Achievable, positive, serious goals.
*****
Finding new Hellfire members is easier than Eddie could have dreamed. The second day of the year (which is a goddamn Thursday, for some reason) lunch, he spots a freshman in a Weird Al t-shirt, curls shoved under a green ballcap bearing a yellow computer, and Eddie is sure he’s hit a jackpot. The kid is half leaned over a table near Eddie’s own, in some sort of passionate debate with five (five!) other dorky looking kids. Or, three dorky looking boys and two more normal looking girls, one with fiery red braids that looked way too cool for the company she was keeping, the other with a brown wavy hair that barely reached her shoulders. Eddie thinks the redhead might be the girl who moved in across the way a week ago, but he didn’t get a good enough look to be sure. Still, four nerds could be added to the flock if he plays his cards right.
Eddie allows a full seven minutes of the lunch period to pass before he climbs atop the table. Jeff catches the movement before Eddie fully makes it, and gives a heavy sigh. “He’s starting early this year.” The rest of his friends look then, pull their food out of harm’s way, and lean to watch the show, open excitement on their faces.
Once Eddie actually takes his stand on the table, he’s met with a far less entertained “Get off the table, freak!” thrown by one Jason Carver.
“Thank you for that demonstration.” Eddie grins, waving a demonstrative hand in Carver’s direction. “That, young freshman, is the future that awaits should you fold to the powers that be!” A quick glance around the room allows Eddie to see just how much attention he’s managing to draw. So far, it's a lot, but of his main target, he only has the brunette girl’s attention. “But fear not! There is another way. Give in not to the conformity that beckons from the halls! Take a risk, roll the dice! Find thrill and camaraderie in The Hellfire Club!” Eddie looks to the table again, six sets of eyes are on him. “All adventurers welcome.” Eddie snaps his fingers until Gareth hands him one of the posters they’d made. Across the room, the jock squad boos. Eddie gives the most dramatic bow he can manage and jumps off the tabletop.
Once returned to the ground, Eddie struts over to Weird Al shirt’s table and smacks the poster down between the kids. Four heads turn quickly from the paper to Eddie. He grins. “Hope to see you there.”
*****
Eddie does see all the kids at the table at Hellfire the next day, including both girls, though they only watch. Usually, Eddie was adamant about his ‘no spectators’ rule, but one wide-eyed, pleading, openly curious look from the brunette (El or Jane, Eddie noted that the group bounced between names) had him folding like a table. The boys– Dustin Henderson, Lucas Sinclair, Mike Wheeler, and Will Byers– were seasoned and passionate players. Will, in particular, looked overjoyed to be playing. The others were into it, sure, but little Will was downright giddy the entire time. His enthusiasm was closely followed by Dustin, with the others only a little more composed with their excitement. All four of the kids fit right in with the established members of the club, and by the time six o'clock rolled around, the group was set for a great year.
When they finish, the new kids voluntarily help clean everything up, even after Eddie’s friends take their leave. Once everything is packed, Eddie holds up a hand for the newcomers to wait, and drags the box of shirts out from the corner. “For our newest party members.” Eddie pulls a shirt from the box, allows it to fold out, revealing the logo. “A gift, a uniform.” Four faces break out with grins. The redhead, who is Eddie’s new neighbor Max, rolls her eyes. El continues to look intrigued. “An official welcome to Hellfire.” The boys go for the box in an instant, and Eddie allows himself to waltz over to the girls, offering out the shirt he’d pulled to El. “For our first cheerleader.” The girl takes it uncertainly, examining it like an artifact. “There’s enough for you to take one, too, Red.”
Max rolls her eyes. “No, thanks.”
El looks up from the tee. “Thank you, Eddie.”
“No problem. Like I said, all adventures welcome.” Eddie turns back to his new players. “We are expected to vacate the premises in the next five minutes, if you’re all done over there.”
The boys nod, shoving shirts into bags. As a group, they follow Eddie out towards the parking lot, absorbing the girls as they leave. They’re halfway down the hall when three of the kids, Mike, Will, and El, stop. Mike tilts his head at a hall on the left. “My sister and Jonathan are taking us home. They’re still in the newspaper room. Thanks for the game.”
Eddie salutes, and the three of them vanish. But… “Do any of you need a ride?”
The remaining freshmen shake their heads. And Lucas pipes up. “Dustin’s brother is getting us.”
“Ok. Cool.” Eddie keeps going, kids trailing behind him (passionately debating the merits of PacMan versus DigDug), but Eddie’s mind wanders. He can’t think of any Hendersons at Hawkins High. For him to be picking the kids up, this brother must be able to drive, which means he’d be at least sixteen, so Eddie would have been in school with him for at least a couple years. But he’s drawing a blank. Maybe a half- or step-sibling, different last name, Eddie runs though a few candidates in his head. He supposes the brother could have been home-schooled or gone to the fancy private school two towns over, but if Dustin is attending the public school, it seems unlikely that his mystery brother wouldn’t have done so as well. Maybe the brother is older than Eddie even, long graduated from high school and done with college too. Or maybe he’s some crazy kid who got himself shipped off to military school, which, even Eddie could admit was unlikely.
Upon opening the doors, all three kids race out to the parking lot, full sprinting to a car with a figure leaning against it. When Eddie reaches the gravel lot, he nearly keels over in shock. Reclined on his trademark maroon beamer is none other than Steve Harrington. And he’s talking to Eddie’s newest sheep with a sort of fond smile on his face. Dustin and Lucas are talking over each other, volume increasing every second and Harrington is indulging them, asking questions, even as Max groans. Max, actually, adds to the confusing scene by looking… if not excited, content in the company of King Steve. She’s settled against the car beside him, nearly leaned onto Harrington with the proximity, looking less annoyed than Eddie has seen her thus far.
Then, because things weren’t confounding enough, Harrington spots Eddie approaching and fucking waves, still smiling. Eddie, stupidly, walks right past his van and goes over to the group, too curious to miss the opportunity. He’s not sure what to expect from the interaction, not sure how to start it. Somehow, he lands on blurting out “You’re Dustin’s brother?” in the most disbelieving tone ever the moment he’s close enough to be heard.
Immediately, the boys stop talking and turn to look at Harrington, who laughs “Not really, not legally or biologically or anything, but, kinda yeah. I suppose I’m close enough.”
Eddie nods, slowly. “That's… cool. How’d that happen?”
All three kids give him a look, like Eddie is the one being absurd here. He’s saved from any comment by Harrington. “Long story. I’ll tell you sometime. Right now, I’ve gotta take these dickheads home.”
All three kids roll their eyes and move to the car, with Max calling out “Shotgun!” as they move. Both boys groan, but they don’t fight it, climbing into the backseat, already talking loudly. Before the door closes, Dustin pokes his head out. “Can we get burgers?” Harrington shoots the kid a look and the door shuts without further comment.
Harrington turns back to Eddie, looking sheepish, apologetic. “I hope they weren’t too much. I know these kids have issues with listening to people and behaving like civilized humans.”
“Worry not your majesty. They were well within the behavioral standards for the likes of me.”
“Good.” Harrington’s face shifts to something akin to uncomfortable. He pauses, looking over his shoulder as if to ensure the kids aren’t listening. “While I, uh, have you here I want to, um, just apologize for, like, all of high school. I’m really sorry for anything I did. Honestly, there’s so much I can’t even remember specifics, which is all kinds of fucked up. But I am sorry for all of it and I’m trying to make up for everything and that starts with, uh, taking accountability for my shitty behavior.” There’s a sort of specific lilt to ‘taking accountability’, as though Harrington is parroting the words from someone else. “I was a total dick to basically everyone and… Again, I’m sorry about that.”
Eddie blinks at the man in front of him. “Oh. I– thanks. It’s cool that you recognize that.” In the grand scheme of things, Harrington hadn’t been too bad. He was rarely an active participant, more often than not just letting stuff happen. Which was shitty of him, true, very much shitty. He’d let Tommy H sneer at anyone who had the gall to not be exactly like him and toss out every insult that popped into his head, but when things started to turn towards getting physical, beyond a bump of shoulder or a shove, Harrington would call his attack dog off, dragging his friend away with a roll of his eyes or a murmur of ‘Bored. C’mon.’. Ultimately, it was likely for his own benefit, keeping his record clean or whatever, but it was far more than Eddie could say for Billy Hargrove, or Jack Murphy, Harrington's predecessor. “Consider your apology accepted.”
And Harrington grins. “Really? That’s– thanks. I, well, I’ll see you next week, I guess.”
Then he’s climbing into his car, offering a little wave as he backs out.
What. The. Fuck.
*****
Eddie doesn’t make it a full week before seeing Harrington again. Tuesday morning, the familiar car pulls into the lot a few minutes before school starts, not carrying any of the freshmen, but Robin Buckley in the front seat. That friendship is just as unexpected as Harrington's brother-like status to nerdy fourteen year olds. Eddie would normally assume that Buckley was Harrington’s girlfriend, or at least his girl of the week, but this was Robin Buckley. And Eddie was at least mostly sure that she was a very similar type of different to himself. Maybe he was wrong, maybe they were together.
But then Buckely climbs out of the car without offering any modicum of physical affection toward the guy. If King Steve was known for one thing, it was an absurd amount of PDA; in the halls, behind the bleachers, in classrooms, the parking lot. All he offers Buckley is a wave, which she responds to with one of her own and nothing more. So, probably not dating. Friends. Eddie lived in a world where Steve Harrington was friends with the likes of band-nerd extraordinaire Robin Buckley.
Desperate to know more about the situation, Eddie resolves to find Buckely during the day so he can politely grill her for any and all information she has on Harrington’s new whatever-it-is. He corners her during band class. Eddie isn't actually in the school band, as he’d fulfilled his required arts credit (which was so unfair by the way, that he needed one arts credit and three PE credits. And that the sport-y preps got their arts credits waived all the time to take more PE, but Eddie couldn’t do the reverse) during freshman year and stopped doing it after Senior Year: Take One. But Mr. Anderson let Eddie use the practice rooms to mess around with the usually out of tune acoustics that the school had. Technically, it was supposed to be a supervised study/TA period, but Eddie just did whatever he wanted along with the occasionally requested music sorting or instrument tuning.
Today, the freshmen are picking their instruments (and some people are picking new ones for the year) so Anderson releases everyone else to “Practice, gossip, or do homework. Anything that doesn’t disturb the process.” Eddie catches Buckley’s eye as she pulls out a red spiral notebook and a little paperback that appears to have Russian on the front. He waves her over and, after a brief look behind her to confirm she’s the one Eddie is gesturing to, she puts her stuff back and walks over with a look of confusion but no protest.
Eddie leads her to the practice room that’s next to Anderson’s office because no one is ever in it. Once they’re inside, Buckley settles crosslegged on the piano bench, looking at Eddie expectantly. He figures his best bet to get information is point blank questioning, so, leaning against the door in a hopefully casual manner, he asks “Did my eyes deceive me, Lady Buckley or did you catch a ride to school with the King Steve?”
Something vaguely angry passes her face. “Yeah. We work together.” She’s defensive, offering a pre-emptive explanation for something so simple as a way to school. “What’s it to you, Munson?”
Eddie puts his hands up in surrender. “It’s mere curiosity. A little investigation to further my understanding of Hawkins’ resident golden boy.” Buckley glares from her spot, not looking very intimidating at all. Eddie sighs, sliding down the door to sit. “Alright, look. Hellfire gained some new members at our most recent gathering, and much to my shock, some of them were escorted home by Steve Harrington. It simply didn’t make sense, then he apologized to me for how he treated me and my lot. Then, further, I see him this morning, offering the sacred front seat of his beamer to, and I mean no offense by this, the likes of you. I thought you two might be together or whatever except you don’t really seem his type and he doesn't strike me as yours.”
Buckley blinks at him. “First, ew. I am not dating dingus. We’re friends. Platonic with a capital P. But…Okay, so here's the thing. Steve was a total douchebag in school. He’ll be the first to tell you that. But, he has changed, honestly and truly. His days of asshole-ery are behind him. He’s been relegated to a position of servitude by a horde of teens that tease him for his taste in music and use him as their own personal chauffeur service that offers free rides to the arcade every weekend. He has a lifetime contract of free ice cream owed to an eleven-year-old. He’s like, actually pretty cool now. Or, I guess he’s not cool now, at least in the typical sense of the word.. But he’s definitely less of an asshole, so y’know. Much improved. If you don’t believe me just ask the kiddies. They love the guy. Mike included, even though he won't admit that under threat of death.”
“Right.”
“Well, if that’s all.” Buckley stands, and Eddie rises to move out of the doorway. Buckley returns to her spot near the back of the room, pulls out her notebook and Russian book. Eddie follows her out of the practice room, opting to spend the period half-watching her write and half-doodling in his own notebook.
*****
At lunch the next day, the new kids are chattering about Steve Harrington before Eddie even thinks his name. Or, at least, he’s pretty sure that’s what they’re talking about. The freshmen are hard to decipher, with El’s oddly practiced speech, Max’s excessive sarcasm and snark, plus the boy’s tendency to talk over each other, all piled onto the strange way they talk about it and the second time and him like they’re covering up some big conspiracy.
But, context clues and certain details lead Eddie to believe that Hawkins’ golden boy is being discussed.
Dustin is leaned half onto the table. “No way. He’s totally a Han Solo. Snarky, charming, badass? C’mon. It’s a perfect comparison.”
Mike rolls his eyes. “I don’t think you can give him credit for being charming. He hasn’t had an actual girlfriend since Nancy.”
“Two years ago.” Max laughs.
Dustin leans further forward. “Robin–”
Will cuts him off, pushing him back down. “Has repeatedly said that they’re just friends.”
“Platonic with a capital P,” adds Lucas.
Dustin shakes his head. “Bull.”
Eddie leans back in his chair as the argument continues, watching Gareth, Jeff, and Peter’s eyes bounce around the freshmen, clearly invested in the debate. He lets it go for a few minutes, working through a bag of baby carrots as the argument grows in intensity. Mike and Dustin are all but screaming at each other.
“Hey!” Eddie snaps. All eyes are on him in a second, the new kids falling silent as they turn. “Would you care to inform the rest of us what it is, exactly, that you little twerps are in such hot debate over?”
It’s El that answers, quiet and nervous, in her careful manner of speech. “Steve Harrington. Dustin thinks he is like Han Solo. The others do not agree.”
Lucas throws up his hands. “I wouldn’t say I don’t agree. Dustin is making good points, there are just flaws in his argument.”
Mike makes a face. “Yeah, flaws being that Steve is nothing like Han Solo.”
At that, Dustin slams both hands down on the table. Half the group flinches, several people at tables near them turn to look. “How can you even say that, Mike?” The yelling resumes.
“Okay!” Eddie plants his palms on the table and pushes himself so he’s standing, leaned forward, hands still on the table. “Clearly, you two have some passionate feelings about this. Perhaps, as someone who knows Steve Harrington, I can provide some insight.”
Max narrows her eyes. “You know Steve?”
Eddie drops heavily back into his seat. “Well. Not personally, but we did haunt the same hallowed halls of school for… say eight years. And, as I’m sure you all are aware, he was quite the prolific figure, so I may have information on King Steve that you are not privy to.”
Dustin crosses his arms. “Well maybe we have information that you’re not privy to.”
“That may well be true. Because the Steve Harrington I know is in almost no ways comparable to Han Solo.” They’re both hot. Eddie’s mind supplies. Which, while a reasonable judgment, is not helpful, nor is it an opinion he is going to share with the freshmen. “So, please, enlighten me.”
The new kids lean together to whisper and Eddie can feel his friends' eyes on him. He turns their way, offering a shrug. He gets three nearly-synchronized eye rolls in response.
“Okay,” Dustin says, hands folded on the table in a mock-professional fashion. “We can’t tell you everything, but…”
The tales Eddie (and his friends by proxy) are regaled with are far beyond anything he was imagining. He was picturing some stories of… Honestly he's not sure. Offering rides, maybe. Some particular good will involving the ice cream shop Eddie knew Harrington had worked at over the summer (in a truly wonderful sailors uniform that had made one or two or ten appearances in his dreams). And while he does get those sort of stories, he’s also told about Steve Harrington protecting a twelve-year-old Lucas from a honest to God hate-crime carried out by Billy Hargrove and Steve Harrington putting himself in the way of rabid dogs so the kids could get away and Steve Harrington, already concussed and badly hurt from fallen debris, leading the kids out of the flaming husk of Starcourt.
By the end of lunch, Eddie is staring slack-jawed at the group of freshmen. “Well. I gotta be honest. If, and this is a pretty big if, if what you just told me is true, then,” Eddie lets out a heavy, disbelieving sigh. “Then I’d say King Steve is certainly comparable to Han Solo.”
Dustin breaks out into a grin as Mike groans. The other four just look vaguely amused, like this is a debate they’ve witnessed before, one they’ll witness again. “Thank you, Eddie.”
The bell rings, marking the end of lunch period and all six freshmen gather up their things and practically run out of the cafeteria. Eddie sits frozen, his friends along with him.
“Steve Harrington.” Gareth says, beyond disbelief. “Steve Harrington?”
Jeff shrugs. “Maybe there’s another Steve Harrington.”
“Yeah.” Peter laughs. “Or maybe he’s been replaced with some kind of clone or robot or alien or some shit.”
“Maybe.” Eddie stares blankly ahead, the cafeteria is clearing out quickly. “Or maybe Steve Harrington is our own small town Han Solo.”
Jeff rolls his eyes. “Really?”
“Those kids sound like they were lying to you?” Eddie thinks of the way Lucas had tensed when Dustin talked about Hargrove, how a tinge of worry had spilled into Dustin’s voice when he mentioned Harrington's injuries from the mall fire. “Didn’t sound like they were lying to me.”
“Steve? Harrington?” Gareth asks again.
Eddie nods. “Steve Harrington.”
*****
Three weeks of hype talk for Steve Harrington pass before Eddie crosses out another goal on his list: job, legal. He’s been working unofficial shifts at Thatcher Tire since he was fourteen, moving tools and supplies, filing paperwork, and little easy fix-ups as he got older. Eddie doesn’t think it’ll take much convincing to get Bobby to take him on part-time, officially, especially if he can promise he’ll work full-time after the school year ends.
He’s right. Bobby practically jumps at the opportunity to get Eddie on staff, with one pretty major caveat. “You gotta quit dealing, kid. Can’t run that risk.”
“I haven’t even gotten arrested for that shit.”
Bobby shakes his head. “I know, Ed. But, hey, you know Hop goes easy since you’re still in school. You don’t know how it’ll go once you’re done with all that.”
“Alright.” Eddie nods. “Alright, you make me an official employee, I’ll stop.”
“Good. Let's get that paperwork signed, then.”
It’s easy enough to quit dealing. With Rick in prison, Eddie figures he’ll sort of just stop doing it once the supply he had runs out. He doesn’t tell Bobby about that, and Bobby doesn’t ask.
It’s pretty great working at Thatcher. Eddie likes working with his hands, likes keeping busy, and he knows cars, so it's pretty much perfect. Plus Bobby likes him, so getting his schedule shifted around to make time for band practice and Hellfire is a breeze. Eddie works Monday, Tuesday, and Thursday after school, three to seven, plus Sunday from ten to four. It leaves Fridays for Hellfire, Saturdays open for practice and performances at the Hideout, and Wednesday for anything else he may need to do. Though Bobby tells him it ought to be used to do his homework– Eddie is pretty sure Wayne talked to him about it, giving him a day off so he couldn’t use work as an excuse to fall behind.
Admittedly, it works. Eddie is keeping up in all his classes, passing all of them with solid Cs.
*****
Sometime in early October, around two weeks after his official start at Thatcher, Eddie drops down at Hellfire’s designated lunch table to find everyone chattering loudly, leaning in towards Max, who is glaring outward at the group.
“What’s going on?”
Will turns to look at Eddie, eyes lit up with excitement. “Max said she's gonna play D&D!”
“Woah,” Max protests. “I did not. I said I might be willing to try one game. Maybe.”
Dustin and Lucas cheer in unison. “There’s a chance!”
Lucas looks at Eddie excitedly. “Friday is the end of the current campaign, right? Maybe next week we could do a one-shot, so Max can try it out?” He turns again, this time to mini Hopper. “And El, too. If you want.”
Eddie sighs, leaning back in his seat. “First of all, asking me to write and prep an entire one-shot in one week is absurd.” That’s a little unfair, because Eddie always has two or three one-shots ready to go, in case someone wants to try out a game or he’s just too lazy to do the real campaign on a given week. “Second, I'm afraid there will be no Hellfire this week or next.” The table erupts in protest. Eddie raises a hand and the group quiets. “Relax. The drama club happens to actually need the prop room for their production of A Midsummer Night’s Dream. Tech is this week, shows the next. So, we’re on a short hiatus.”
Mike rolls his eyes. “Can’t we just find another space.”
“In all honesty, Wheeler, Ms. Jennings is the only teacher in this school who trusts me enough to allow me to hold meetings in her rooms. So unless one of you has a non-Hawkins High meeting space available, we’re out.”
The freshmen give each other those looks that they always do. After a moment of silent debate, Dustin perks up. “We could use Steve’s house.”
Eddie… isn’t sure about that one. Over the couple months it's certainly become clear that Harrington has changed, always there to give rides and waving at Eddie when he drops Buckley off in the mornings, plus the few times Eddie has caught Harrington on a late night house call to Max. But hosting ten teenagers, three of whom he has never met, for what is likely to be a very long and very loud session of D&D seems like a big ask.
Dustin keeps talking. “He’ll probably be all pissy about it, but he doesn’t have a date this week, and Robin is busy, so he won’t be doing anything at all. Also his house is literally huge. Plus he totally does whatever I want when I ask nicely.”
Will smiles “He does whatever you want regardless of how nicely you ask.”
“Exactly.” Dustin looks at Eddie. “So?”
Eddie's friends' eyes are all glued to him, wide in interest. “You ask Harrington, yeah? Politely. And if he’s okay with it, sure. Hellfire at House Harrington.”
*****
Dustin finds Eddie by his van a while after final bell. Eddie is loitering in the parking lot for a deal with some junior from the marching band, Trevor or Tristan or something. Max and Lucas accompany Dustin, who is practically vibrating with excitement. If Eddie looks past the trio, he can see the beamer parked on the outskirts of the lot. “Steve says we can use his house. Friday if you want, or Saturday so we can take as long as we need.” Dustin holds a sticky note out to Eddie. He takes it carefully, deciphers the scribbly, slanted writing: Steve Harrington :) 338 Gale Street, 765-939-0022. “He says you can call if you need anything. He’ll be at work until seven, but anytime after you can call.” He shrugs.
Then all three of them vanish down the hill, running to meet the other half of their little group by the bike racks. And Eddie is left standing there, Steve Harrington’s phone number and street address clutched in his hand. Robin Buckley materializes a moment later, waving at Eddie before hurrying over to Steve’s car, climbing in with her mouth already moving a million miles an hour, the echo of her voice audible across the parking lot.
Eddie can’t properly focus the rest of the day. He may well under- or over-charge the band kid, mind occupied wondering what sick prank the universe is pulling on him that he has the phone number and address for Steve Harrington, embarrassing subject of Eddie’s private fantasies for the past five years, tucked in his pocket, along with blanket permission to call if he ‘needs anything’. Eddie knows it was meant in terms of the hosting arrangement, for him to call if he needed to ask about carpooling, or gate codes, or to confirm that Harrington is really, truly, actually okay with having Eddie and his friends in his house, for multiple hours, playing a loud, nerdy game. But the stupid, overly excitable, underdeveloped part of his brain tells him to call and talk to Harrington, to ask about his day, just because he can do it, because he has the number and it would be as easy as dialing.
Eddie wonders if Harrington wrote the note himself. Upon getting home, he compares the writing to that on the character sheets from Dustin and Lucas, then Mike and Will too, just in case. No match. It could have been written by one of the girls, but the tug in Eddie’s gut says Harrington wrote it himself, but it may just be wishful thinking.
*****
They end up deciding to have Hellfire on Saturday, everyone jumping at the opportunity to play without a time limit, to be able, for once, to let the story unfold slowly, no pressure from the school rules to rush them through decisions or battles.
Eddie arrives at Steve Harrington’s house a full hour before the rest of the group is set to arrive at eleven. Eleven, a time Eddie had called and set up with Harrington, who sounded perfectly content on the other end of the line, like he wasn’t at all put out to be hosting a session of D&D. Eddie knocks and barely has to wait a minute before Harrington opens the double doors, smiling.
“Hey, Eddie. C’mon in.” Harrington starts into the house and Eddie follows. “I have the dining table set up. It’s just the eight of you playing, right?”
Eddie nods. “Yeah, we’re still working on getting Max and to join the games.”
“Good luck,” Harrington laughs. “Max is a stubborn thing, and El just does whatever Max does.” Harrington swings around a corner, coming to a stop by a dark wooden table. “It’s sorta cute, the way she copies her friend, but it can be really annoying if Mayfield is particularly bent on being a nuisance. But I kinda used to do the same thing with Tom– Anyway, good luck with your nerd game. I’ll be in the kitchen, so you can just yell or come find me if you need something.”
Eddie sets up faster than he expects, then lets himself wander the Harrington house’s downstairs. It's… fancy. Too clean, too coordinated, like every room was taken straight from a magazine. Still, Eddie can find signs of life– a stack of VHS tapes by the TV, a half-played game of Solitaire on the coffee table. But it’s still off, like the house is unlived in. Eventually, Eddie meanders into the kitchen, where he finds Steve Harrington by a stand mixer, with a cookie sheet half loaded with balls of dough out beside it. The sight hits him like a brick.
Somehow in all his thinking about Harrington hosting a session of Hellfire, Eddie had failed to consider Harrinton acting like a proper host. But there he stands, in the kitchen, King Steve, bent over a sheet of cookies. He’s got headphones on, and Eddie can hear a vague poppy beat pouring from them. Eddie should be leaving the room, going back to the table, checking that he didn’t mess up. He should not stay in the kitchen, lurking like a stalker, watching as Harrington hums along to his music and bakes. Before he can make a break for it, Harrington spins, clearly engrossed in whatever he’s listening to. He catches sight of Eddie halfway through the turn, flushing a furious red with the embarrassment of getting caught.
Harrington slides his headphones off so they hang around his neck and smiles at Eddie. “Sorry. Did you need something? I couldn’t actually hear anything.”
“Oh, uh. No. I was just wandering around, exploring.” God, he sounds dumb, even to himself. “Pretty nice place you got.”
“Sure,” Harrington shrugs. “It’s–”
Eddie nods. “Big. Perfect for those famous parties of yours.”
Harrington rolls his eyes. “Yeah, except I haven’t had one of those in years. The only thing I use this place for is, like, whatever the kids want. Or hanging out with Robin.”
Eddie isn’t sure how to respond to that. He was sort of aware of Harrington’s fall from grace two years ago, and the plummet his social life took just last year, post-break up with Nancy Wheeler. But Eddie had been under the impression that Harrington still had friends after that, but he was implying that it had just been the odd gaggle of pre-teens and Buckley.
They’re both saved from whatever awkward comment Eddie was going to make by Robin Buckley herself sweeping into the kitchen.
“Steve, I have major news!” She stops just short of Harrington, not even glancing Eddie’s way. “You know Vickie, from band? The one that plays clarinet? I talked to her! I actually talked. To. Her. I even complimented her earrings, and she smiled and said he liked my jacket. And we kept talking. And I wasn’t even weird at all, the whole time. I just conversed with her like a normal human person!” Buckley lets out a heavy sigh. “I’m improving. I am no longer helpless.”
Eddie stares blankly at the other two people in the kitchen. Harrington seems unaffected by Buckley’s outburst, having simply returned to his work of baking. Eddie only stares a little when he bends to slide the cookies into the oven. “Well, congrats, Rob. Only took you three months.” Harrington sets down the timer in his hand and looks at Buckley.
She shrugs. “Whatever. Nothing can kill my high. I talked to a pretty girl without making a complete fool of myself.”
“Hold on, wait a second. I saw you yesterday and you told me there was no news on the Vickie front. When exactly did this happen?”
Eddie doesn’t really hear the rest of the conversation, too perplexed by King Steve having an extremely casual conversation about, at least to Eddie’s interpretation, Robin Buckley flirting with another girl. It simply doesn’t compute. Steve Harrington should, by all logic, be a raging homophobe. Not that Eddie wants him to be, it's just the order of things. Guys like Steve Harrington spit slurs at guys like Eddie Munson. It was just the way of the world, the natural order, social darwinism. Maybe Harrington was the kind that didn’t mind if it was girl on girl, but would flip if another guy dared look at him too long.
The sound of pounding at the front door rises suddenly, and Harrington disappears to answer. Buckley is looking right at Eddie. He stares back at her. “Am I crazy, or were you just talking to King Steve about,” Eddie waves a hand through the air. “Homosexual activities.”
Buckley tilts her head. “I told you, Steve is cool.”
“Yeah, but…” Eddie waves his hands again, bigger and more dramatic.
Eddie doesn’t get the chance to ask Robin to clarify what she meant by ‘cool’, as Dustin very rudely barges into the kitchen, followed closely by Mike and Lucas. All three of them make a beeline for the bowl of cookie dough, but Buckley intercepts their path and snatches the bowl before they reach it. She holds it above her head, which isn't particularly effective since she only has enough height on Dustin to be effectively out of reach, but the boys give up anyway.
Harrington enters just a moment later, immediately retrieving the bowl from Robin. “Okay, everyone under the age of seventeen, out of the room now.”
The kids grumble, but obey, dragging their feet as they make their way to the table. Another round of knocking, though much more polite this time around, reaches the room. Once again, Harrington vanishes to get the door. Sparing a final glance at Buckley, Eddie follows the freshmen into the dining room, if only to ensure they aren’t snooping in his notes. They aren't, thankfully, and everything is still in its place, allowing the session to start just five minutes later, once everyone has arrived and settled into their seats.
Harrington continues to play host, bringing snacks and refilling drinks. He even orders pizza a couple hours in, casually asking for requests, like this is something he does all the time. While catering to every whim of the players, Harrington is also managing to play board games with El, Max, and Robin in the next room. Eddie can hear laughter bubble up every once in a while. El pops her head in throughout the session, ever curious about the game, though she insists she has no interest in playing.
When the game ends, though it takes nearly two hours longer than usual, the freshmen help clean up, as they do every time. Now, Eddie wonders if it’s something they got from Harrington, the inclination towards helpfulness, or if it's just innate. Either way, they help, after Eddie’s friends leave and Eddie himself starts to get careless with the way he’s putting things away, the kids sort out the dice and put papers into folders. Lucas and Will carry empty bowls and plates into the kitchen. Almost everything has been returned to its place when the front door opens again. Nancy Wheeler and Jonathan Byers stroll in, looking fittingly out of place. The kids flock to the pair immediately, talking rapidly to the older teens, who both nod politely, clearly used to the clamoring.
Robin and Harrington emerge from the kitchen, offering greetings to the couple, which are returned quickly before the freshmen are led out of the house, splitting into two groups as they near the door. Robin vanishes with the group, pulling Harrington into a tight, but lingering hug during which Eddie can see her whisper something that has Harrington going red.
Then it's just the two of them again, standing in the pristine entryway of House Harrington.
“Thanks for having us over. I know we Hellfire can get… loud.”
Harrington shrugs. “I don’t mind. It’s nice to have the place full. Too loud is better than too quiet. To me at least.”
“Sure.” Now that it's been pointed out, and there aren’t a dozen competing voices, Eddie notices it. The deafening silence of everything. He’d been too hyped up on pre-campaign adrenaline to notice earlier, but now the quiet feels almost heavy as Harrington shifts on his feet. Eddie doesn’t really know what to say yeah, man, it's actually eerie how silent your house is, plus it looks like no one actually lives here. That’s not weird at all. So they just stand there, looking at each other, until Harrington clears his throat.
“Anyway, just let me know if you wanna play here again. Or if you just wanna, like come bother me or whatever, that's– you can do that too.”
“I can… come bother you?”
Harrington flushes, casts his eyes down to the floor. “Robin says I need to make more friends my age. You seem as good a choice as anyone.”
Eddie’s heart jumps. Steve Harrington wants to be friends with him. And who is he to turn down that opportunity? “Well, I’m always open to expanding my circle.”
And Harrington breaks out into a grin, just like he had that first day in the parking lot, head bouncing back up. “Cool! Well, you’ve got my number so you can just, uh, call, if you want to do something or whatever. I get pretty choice discounts at Family Video if you ever want to watch a movie or whatever.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.” Eddie glances at his watch. “I gotta get going but, I’ll see you around, yeah?”
Harrington nods, smile still bright. “Totally. I’ll see you around, Eddie.”
Eddie gets out of the house as fast as possible, not because he actually has anywhere to go, but because he feels like he might spontaneously combust if he has Harrington’s attention on him any longer. Eddie had heard plenty in the halls about the Harrington Charm, whispered at lockers by just about every girl in the entire school. And some of the guys, though their discussions of it tended towards a sort of pissed-off jealousy rather than admiration. Now, he thinks maybe there was no charm, that maybe just the intensity of Harrington’s gaze was enough to make people lose it entirely. That certainly seemed the case with Eddie. One minute with those pretty hazel eyes on him and he was willing to clear his schedule to make it happen again.
It wasn’t that Eddie had been immune to Harrington before, anyone with eyes and an interest in men would have been drawn to him, was drawn to him. But he was simply a distant fantasy, a tragic hallway crush, or a shameful wet dream, depending on the day. Now, Eddie had the chance to actually know the guy. His romantic yearnings were off the table, obviously, but he was embarrassingly willing to take whatever Harrington offered.
*****
Eddie ends up hanging out with Harrington two Fridays later, after the first Hellfire back in the drama room following the two week interlude at House Harrington. The hang out is an unplanned thing. Eddie is, as usual, following some of the freshmen out to the lot. Harrington is always there to give at least one, sometimes all, of them a ride. Today the group consists of Lucas, Max, and, oddly, Will. Usually he gets rides from his brother, but he’s squished between the couple as the three of them debate, to Eddie’s understanding, the optimal movie snacks. The other half of the group had bolted out of the building and to their bikes, seemingly off on their own quest. And Eddie isn’t really fully aware of what he’s doing, so he ends up following the teens all the way to Harrington’s car. As usual, the kids pause outside the beamer to converse with its owner. None of them seem confused by Eddie’s presence, though only Harrington acknowledges it at all, just a small wave and a smile.
The freshmen are still talking a mile a minute, but there's an urgency in their voices now, Max even has a hand on the door handle, yanking at it repeatedly. “C’mon. It starts in half an hour and we need to get there early so we can have good seats.”
“Okay, Jesus,” Harrington sighs as he unlocks the car. “The theater is five minutes away, I think we’ll be fine.”
Max groans dramatically and pulls the door open, though she doesn’t get in.
Eddie glances around the group. “Off to the movies?”
“Yeah!” Will perks up at the question. “Steve is taking us to see Silver Bullet. It just came out last week–”
Max taps the top of the beamer. “So if we don’t hurry…”
“Alright!” Harrington throws his hand up in surrender. “I get it, Max. We can go now. Good seats, too many snacks, all on my dime.”
The three teens shove each other and Lucas gets kneed in the face by Max in her haste to climb into the car. All three of them, oddly, take the back seat.
Harrington doesn’t follow, instead leaning easily against the side. “What about you, Munson? Got any fun plans for the evening?”
“Oh, uh. Not really. Procrastinating on my homework probably, might finalize a one-shot so Max can give D&D a try.”
“Cool… or you could join us.”
“I wouldn’t want to intrude,” Eddie insists. Actually, he was wanting to see Silver Bullet, but no one had been available to go with him and going to the movies alone was lame.
Harrington shakes his head. “You wouldn’t be. I’m inviting you.”
“You sure the shrimp won’t–”
Eddie is cut off by the honking of the horn. Both him and Harrington look to the driver side window, where Max is half leaned into the seat, tapping dramatically at her watchless wrist. Harrington sighs again, leaning slightly towards a groan. “So, you in?”
“Yeah, okay.”
The ride is short, not even five minutes and the freshman only increase in volume and excitement over the time. All three of them (and Eddie to a lesser extent) are practically vibrating as they walk into the theater. True to his word, Harrington buys the tickets, and all the snacks, even insisting that Eddie pick whatever he wants. Unlike the teens, Eddie puts up the appropriate protests at Harrington paying for literally everything, but he just gets waved off. Max leads the group to what are, according to her, the best seats in the house, almost perfectly center, about halfway back. The teens continue to chatter over the trailers, barely lowering their voices. The theater is about half-full, but no one shushes them. Eddie is on the far end of the group, with Harrington on his left. There’s no one but the five of them in the aisle, the other people in their own little groups throughout the rows of seats; a few couples (one of which has already started making out), a dad, looking like he’d rather be anywhere else, with three middle school aged boys beside him, a group of girls that Eddie vaguely recognized from school passing an Icee between them.
Eddie only observes all of this in his desperate attempts to distract himself from the feeling of Harrington next to him. The guy radiates heat and smells fucking incredible, a little like hairspray, but mostly a perfect combination sweet and manly. Eddie keeps his gaze firmly on the screen as the lights go down and the movie starts. It's, admittedly, not the greatest, but it's a pretty fun watch. Or at least, Eddie is having a good time watching it. Harrington seems like he wants to be anywhere but the theater, so tense the whole time that Eddie can practically feel the nerves pouring off him. Eddie spares a few glances at the other man a few times, but Harrington isn’t showing any real signs of distress, so Eddie stays quiet.
Then, about forty minutes in, Harrington jolts and suddenly, his hand is wrapped around Eddie’s. The hold is tight, like Harrington is trying to ground himself in reality but finding via physical contact. Barely a second after grabbing it, Harrington drops Eddie’s hand, whispering a harsh “Sorry.”
He’s looking at Eddie, eyes wide with unease, and in the dim light, Eddie thinks he can see a flush high on his cheeks. “It’s okay,” Eddie whispers back. “I don’t mind.” Steve’s hand is hovering a few inches away from Eddie’s, like he wants to grab for it again. Eddie beats him to it, taking Steve’s hand into his own. And if he thought the other man was flushed before, now he swears that there's color in Harrington’s cheeks, but Steve doesn't pull his hand away. With a nod, he turns his face back to the screen. Eddie allows himself a moment more of looking, then does the same.
It’s harder to pay attention after that, and Eddie is thankful that the movie is easy to follow. Any convoluted plot points would be lost on him, because his mind is half occupied with screaming that Steve Harrington is holding his hand. He’s overly aware of it, acutely conscious of every twitching of fingers, the slight stickiness of sweat, the softness of skin. Steve’s hand stays in his until the lights come back on, when he pulls it slowly into his lap, not looking at Eddie.
The teens start talking again as soon as the lights come up, layering over each other as they tell Eddie to move. Once they’re outside the theatre, the teens charge ahead, leaving Eddie to trail behind with Steve. Who immediately apologizes. “Sorry if that was weird. I’m used to having Robin next to me.”
Eddie shrugs. “I told you. It’s all good. I take it you’re not a horror fan.”
“Hell no,” Steve laughs. “Can’t stand ‘em. But, ya know, the kids do, so I watch a whole lot.”
“Hmm. Lemme guess, you’re more of an action fan. Spy thrillers, maybe? Spaghetti Westerns? A classic war film?”
They’ve gotten to the car now, the three teens are leaned up against it. From his spot next to Max, Lucas speaks up. “Nope. Steve’s more of a romance guy.”
Eddie gasps. “No!”
The teens all nod and Will adds “Big fan of John Hughes. And musicals.”
“Really?” He whips his head around to look at Steve, who is definitely red in the cheeks, though it's hard to tell if the redness is really from embarrassment or just the wind that's blowing. “You got a favorite, Steve?”
The man mumbles something inaudible. All eyes remain on him until he sighs and repeats, louder “Grease.”
“Ooh. Solid pick.”
Max snorts a laugh. “Yeah, but he’s only watching so he can ogle the cast and pretend he’s John Travolta.”
Eddie tilts his head and gives Steve an exaggerated once-over. “Well, Red, you can’t deny he’s got the looks to pull off Danny Zuko.”
If possible, Steve goes redder. “I went as him for Halloween sophomore year.”
At the confession, the whole group breaks into shouting and giggles. Steve only gets them to stop by unlocking the car and threatening to leave them all there. Max takes shotgun this time, opening the glove compartment and rooting around for a tape as soon as the door is shut behind her. She’s grinning manically as Frankie Valli pours from the speakers. Steve groans, but eventually resigns himself to his fate and gives a resounding performance. Leeching off his good mood, the teens convince Steve to stop at McDonalds on the way to drop off Lucas and Will. The Grease soundtrack is half played out and there’s two bags full of dinner trash on the floor of the backseat by the time Steve pulls back into the school parking lot, now with only Max and Eddie in the car. The girl is scrambling out before they’re even fully stopped, moving to tug on the handles of Eddie’s van same as she does with the beamer.
Steve turns down the volume as Eddie opens his own door. Before he gets out, he leans up towards the front. “Thanks for the invite, Steve. I had a really great time.”
On the ride back to Forest Hills, Eddie catches Max giving him a sort of smug look. But when he asks what's got her so happy, Max just shrugs and turns to the window. And Eddie is still riding the high of holding Steve’s hand, so he lets it go.