“AWESOME” - Dean Winchester

“I will be on my best behavior as per the bet,” Eddie intoned. “My dad might have been an ass, but he was also a man of his word and Munsons don’t renege on bets or promises.”

The car sent up a cheer. Eddie, Jeff, and Brian were all graduating in June. Just like she said they would.

“Is Dr. Hughes going to be joining us?” Jeff asked. Gareth’s dad had been splitting time between California and Hawkins with Gethin, Gareth’s twin brother.

“Both Gethin and Rhys will be joining us,” she said brightly.

Gareth started bouncing up and down even more. “Geth is coming? Oh my god, Mom! I can’t believe it!” He leaned over and gave he a huge hug.

“School has already gotten out for Geth,” Ray explained, “so Rhys took the week off and they’ll be spending out here with us.”

“It’s going to be great,” Jeff said. “Even me and Bri’s parents are coming out for the graduation.”

“Wayne can’t make it until the day before graduation,” Eddie said with a grimace, “but he did promise he’d be there.”

“My mom said that Wayne had to threaten to out the shift supervisor’s affair if he didn’t give Wayne at least the weekend off,” Brian said with a sneer. “I told Wayne he should fucking sue the whole plant for trying to pull that bullshit.”

Ray pursed her lips and pulled out a large mobile phone. She dialed a number while the boys talked among themselves.

“Rhys, sweetie,” she murmured. “Would you call your lawyer friend, apparently the plant is refusing to let Wayne Munson have enough time off to see his nephew graduate.”

“Hey, Ray...” Eddie whined, “you don’t have to do that. I’m sure it’ll be fine. I don’t want Wayne in trouble at work.”

Ray smiled back at him and mouthed ‘Don’t worry.’ Then she turned her attention back to the phone in her hand.

“That’s what I was thinking as well,” she said. “Sounds to me like the union is slacking off, too.”

Everyone had stopped talking now. They sat in rapt attention as Gareth’s mom talked on the phone.

“Thank you, darling,” Ray concluded. “I would have called but you know I have a hard enough time remembering our home phone number let alone a dozen others. Love you too. Bye.”

Brian turned to Gareth. “Your mom is scary cool.”

Gareth grinned back. “I know, right?”

They arrived at the restaurant to see Rhys on the phone with ‘Chaz’ and he blew Ray a kiss when he saw her, before turning back to the conversation he was having. They walked inside and Gethin was waiting at the table for them.

Gareth and Gethin greeted it each with big hugs.

“Man,” Geth muttered. “No one believes me that you’re on your way to becoming a rockstar. They all think you dropped out of school or some dumb shit.”

Jeff shook his head as he sat down at the table. “Haters gonna hate, man. It’s bullshit. I bet they’re saying even worst shit about me and Ed.”

Geth winced. “I don’t think I can say what they’re saying about you two in public and not get arrested.”

Eddie stuck out his tongue. “They can talk shit all they want, I’m gonna be laughing all the way to the bank. And ten years down the line when they’re paying for cheap seats at our sold out stadium concerts, I will have beat them at their own fucking game.”

Brian let out a pained sigh. “Like how do words just trip off your tongue like that? I feel like I have to follow him around writing this shit down so we can make songs out of them!”

“That is why they pay him the big bucks,” Jeff said, patting Eddie the back. “He absolutely is the backbone of this band.”

“I’ll drink to that,” Rhys said, coming in from outside. “Let’s get everyone settled in and ordered, shall we?”

~

To say Steve was nervous would be an understatement. He was graduating from high school. He was standing there with all his friends as they laughed and celebrated this achievement. He wanted to celebrate with them, but he was staring down his last summer in Indiana.

His dad was selling the house and the two of them were packing up and moving to California. He hadn’t told anyone that yet. He just wanted to slip quietly away.

Away from his mom’s legacy. Her shadow that hung over him where ever he went. The whispers in the hall about having been left out of her will. How obviously jealous he was of the people who weren’t.

Charles clapped his hand on Steve’s shoulder. “You ready for this?”

Steve let out a shuddering breath. “Yeah. This is just one step on the journey of life, right?”

“That’s right,” he murmured, giving Steve’s shoulder a squeeze. “I’m proud of your achievements, Steve. You’ll do great things, I’m sure of it. No matter the path you take.”

Steve took a deep breath and then looked around before blurting out. “I’m gay!”

Charles looked at him for a moment before bursting out laughing. He stopped when he saw the stricken expression on Steve’s face. He gave him a hug and then pulled back at arms length. “Son, I’ve known for years you liked boys.”

Steve blinked at him in confusion. “I don’t understand. I was a ladies’ man in high school. How could you have known?”

“Look,” Charles said gently. “We’ll talk after the ceremony, but if it will help ease your mind before you go and get your diploma...” He let out a long breath. “You spent more time talking about certain boys then you ever did about your girlfriends. And that included Nancy Wheeler who was your longest girlfriend at about a year.”

Steve’s jaw dropped. “Oops.”

Charles shook his head. “And no, Steven your mother didn’t know. She didn’t cut you off because of your sexuality.”

“How can you be so sure?” Steve whined.

“I found a stash of her diaries after her death,” he explained. “If she knew, she never wrote it down. And considering the amount of other salacious gossip in there, I’m sure you’re safe.” He winked and the turned Steve around, pushing him toward the football field. “Now go.”

Steve nodded and did as he was told.

He graduated with honors. He didn’t have the highest GPA but he did pretty well for himself. Graduating in the top ten percent of his class.

When he shook hands with Prin. Higgins, there was a moment of tension. As if the man debated telling everyone what Steve had done. But the moment slipped away and Steve stepped away to walk off the stage.

He sat there through the rest of his class waiting on pins and needles, just fearing the worst. That the principal or Mr. Miller would out Steve as the criminal he was. But then everyone was filing out of the football field and back to their families.

Steve met up with friends and made promises to hang out over the summer before they all moved on with their lives. The people who’s bridging he thought he had burned in the last year returned in force to support him. Nancy, Carol, Tommy, and even Jonathan Byers reached out afterwards with his condolences.

The promises he had no intention of keeping. He wanted a clean break. He didn’t want the pitying glances, the serious tones as they asked him how he was. He wanted to laugh with them, joke around, but these days all they did was treat him with kid gloves and tiptoe around his feelings.

He took off his cap and gown, shoving the tassel into the front pocket of his dress slacks and returned them to the school.

He got a few last signatures in his year book that he had wanted and then slipped away. He walked out to his dad’s silver Jaguar.

Charles was waiting for him, leaning against the driver side down. “Are you sure you want to do it this way? We can wait until August to move. You could go to Tommy H.’s graduation party tonight, have your birthday party, celebrate the 4th.”

Steve shook his head. “I’ve already mailed the letters this morning.”

Charles nodded. “All right then. The movers arrive tomorrow at 8am and then our flight is at 3:17pm. Our cars will be shipped out with the rest of our things.”

“Got it,” Steve said with a shuddering breath. He looked behind him and then at his dad. He pulled the tassel out of his pocket. “Hey, before we go, can we stop by the cemetery?”

Charles’s breath caught and then with a heavy gulp, he nodded. “Whatever you want, Steve. I’m hear for you.”

“Thanks, Dad.”

~

After Steve and Charles had lunch on paper plates, sitting on the floor of the kitchen, reminiscing about all the times they had in that house, the good and the bad, they took a taxi to the cemetery.

“I’ll wait here in the taxi,” Charles muttered.

Steve nodded. He wanted to do this alone anyway.

He made his way through the tombstones to where his mother lay. He could tell which one was hers before he could even read the name on the slab.

It was the one covered in flowers and other memorobilia.

Perfect.

Steve knelt down on one knee and pulled the tassel of his pocket.

“Hey, Mom,” he began. “Or maybe I should call you Sophia now. Dad let me read some of your diaries. I think he left out the worst ones so that I would have to bare the brunt of your disdain and disinterest in your only child. I’m sorry I wasn’t what you wanted me to be. I’m sorry I didn’t live up to your expectations of me.”

He paused for a moment and then let out a shuddering breath. “I read about my fall down the stairs when I was a baby. I remember it being a scary moment at the time, but that I started crawling forwards instead of back so it was made kinda funny. But now...”

He closed his eyes. “Now I know the truth. I don’t know if Dad picked up on or if it’s in the parts he won’t let me read....”

“Karma is a bitch, Sophia,” Steve said bitterly. “That I lived, that will outshine you in every way I can. Maybe I’ll have kids, maybe I won’t, but I will tell you one thing, as a teacher I will treat those kids better than you ever treated me.”

He tucked his graduation tassel among the other gifts left around the tombstone. He knew something that these idiots didn’t. That in one week, the groundskeepers would come by and throw all of it away.

Which was exactly what he wanted. He want that stupid tassel thrown away with the rest of the garbage, because he was never coming back to Hawkins.

Steve stood up and dusted the dirt off of his knees. He walked back over to the taxi.

He jutted his thumb over his shoulder. “Did you want to say goodbye?”

Charles shook his head. “No, I said my peace with her at the funeral. I hope I can move on once we’ve settled in California.”

Steve nodded and then looked over his shoulder at the grave. He couldn’t see it, but he could feel its presence like a weight on his heart.

“Let’s go.”

Charles nodded back and they got into the taxi. As they got on the plane, Steve felt the weight lift off his chest.

He settled back against the seat in first class and slept well for the first time since his mom died.

~

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Steve slides his fingers up the small braid, closer to the scalp, tugging with a little more pressure, pulling Eddie's head backwards as he hammers into him. Eddie wishes he had half the confidence Steve has. Eddie can pretend. Steve just exists.

"It looks fucking stupid," Steve says. "You look like an asshole."

"I am an asshole," Eddie retorts.

"You look like trailer trash."

Eddie's fingers clutch the sheets. Then, he reaches back and taps Steve on the thigh. It's subtle, but Steve will get the message and redirect, just a little.

"Well, if the shoe fits," Eddie says. 

Eddie has never found anyone that could make him buzz with desire like Steve does. Eddie asked for this. To feel something. To find a way to feel the roil of desire building anywhere in the way his cock just can't anymore. He feels like he needs his brain stroked. To feel the build-up there instead. He's asked to be put down, to be put in his place, to get off in other ways, and Steve just nodded along like Eddie was asking what the weather was like.

Steve didn't ask questions. He rarely does. He's always just rolled with whatever Eddie throws at him. There's something intoxicating about having Steve Harrington, known bitch, let loose on you while he fucks you good. 

To have someone that doesn't give a fuck if Eddie takes an hour to come. Someone that knows it has nothing to do with them, honest.

Someone that doesn't mind his broken parts, inside and out.

It's something Eddie doesn't want to inspect too closely, or he's sure he'd make connections he wouldn't like.

Overall, Steve does great. He's a natural. Coachable. There's just some things that don't scratch the right itch for Eddie. Poking at his tax bracket? That's one of them.

So, yeah, Steve might miss the mark from time to time, but it never takes him long to redirect and get it right.

"You'll never amount to anything. Not looking like this."

That's much better. 

Eddie hums in agreement, loosening his jaw to take some of the pressure off that Steve's applying by holding his hair. 

"I can't stand looking at it," Steve says, leaning over and grabbing his scissors off the nightstand. 

"Steve," Eddie whines. 

Then, he hears the metallic snip, before his head falls forward landing on the pillow. 

Steve smacks his shoulder with the cut off thin braid, then tosses next to Eddie's face. It tickles his nose. 

Then, both of Steve's hands are on Eddie's sides, gripping, pushing him into the mattress. 

Fucking him harder. Eddie's just along for the ride. 

"This thing was ugly," Steve says, toying with the cut off rattail with one hand. His other, warm and heavy, is hand resting on Eddie's thigh. Grounding.

He's always so grounding that Eddie never wants to be without him. 

And that's a dangerous thought.

"You gave it to me," Eddie mumbles around the cigarette in his mouth, and Steve chuckles. 

"You let me," Steve says.

"Well, clearly I'll let you do lots of things to me." 

Steve scoffs, "Not everything."

It's Eddie's turn to be indignant. 

"Like what? Call me trailer trash?" 

Steve's grip tightens, "No. You know I don't think that. You told me to talk shit. I was talking shit. I'm not good at this. I'm so sorry that I can't read your mind."

Eddie shakes his head, "Not that. I don't care about that. Just. Nevermind."

"No, not nevermind," Steve says, getting more agitated. Eddie passes him his cigarette, and Steve takes it.

They bicker like this. It's nothing new. They've been in each other's pockets for almost a decade now. 

"It's nothing," Eddie says, trying to placate him. Because that's far easier than the truth.

"Eddie," Steve says on an exhale of smoke. Fuck. Even that is somehow smooth. Eddie does not get how Steve is just like this.

Eddie's standard feels like he's a wet cat that's still just standing around in the rain. Broken, and a little unlovable. Steve? Steve's something else entirely.

Eddie shuts this down. It's dangerous. He can't say what he wants. He can't.

If Steve wanted him like that he'd already have him. Steve always goes after what he wants.

"Are you gonna fix my hair?" Eddie asks, changing the direction of the conversation. Steve hums, letting him.

"Yep, I've got just the thing," Steve says, and Eddie should be scared, but he isn't.

The buzz of the clippers should scare him. But it doesn't. Whatever. It's hair. It'll grow back. Eddie's been through too much to worry about what his hair looks like. He likes giving Steve free rein over it.

Steve runs his fingers along Eddie's buzzed scalp, checking for strays, Eddie's sure.

Then, Steve hands him a hand mirror. 

A mohawk. Steve gave him a mohawk. 

Which, well. It's a definite improvement over the last two haircuts. 

"I'll have to trim the sides every week," Steve says, and well, that sounds like a date to Eddie. He's never gonna turn down scheduled time to spend near Steve.

"Maybe you should become a barber," Eddie says, and Steve snorts. "That's gotta be better than retail."

"Eh. I like cutting your hair, I don't give a shit about cutting anybody else's."

Eddie lets those words sink in.

"You do Gareth's," Eddie says.

"An extension of you," Steve answers, fingers still combing through the hair on the top of Eddie's head, trying to get it higher, taller.

"Wonder how tall you could grow it?" Steve ponders, and Eddie will let it grow to a foot tall if Steve keeps doing that.

Eddie leans back, his head resting against Steve's chest. Steve's hands run up and down Eddie's bare arms, and it's too much. Too soft. But Eddie's gonna allow it.

For just a minute more. Maybe two.

If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @corrodedcoffinfest and follow along with the fun! 🦇

Eddie regrets it. Almost immediately.

"I look like I'm about to start dancing to Achy Breaky Heart," Eddie bemoans. He thought he'd look like James Hetfield and not Billy Ray Cyrus. He was sorely mistaken. As he so often is.

He looks like a goddamn fool, and the worst part is, Steve did exactly what he asked for: a flat-top mullet. 

Mistakes were made. 

"Do you like it?" Eddie asks, wrinkling his nose. 

"Not particularly, no," Steve says, honest to a fault. "It might be kinda hard to take you serious when we're fucking. I might need a blindfold. For me."

Eddie slumps. He knew he had no chance of Steve Harrington actually wanting him for anything besides sex, Eddie'd made sure of it, even before he did this to himself. But still. It's rubbing salt in the wound. 

Only, Eddie's the one that forcefully held Steve at arm's length, so he can't really be that mad Steve's stayed where Eddie put him.

"You did a good job," Eddie says, "thank you."

Steve nods, putting his snips back into their little case. He bought them at a beauty supply store while they were in the city. He's definitely gotten his money's worth, even if Eddie wishes at this exact moment they hadn't encouraged this strange hobby.

"What the fuck?" Goodie asks, and Eddie thinks that about sums it up. 

"Shut up," Eddie says, sitting his guitar case down. He's here to practice, not to get made fun of relentlessly. 

"Did you pay for that?" Jeff asks. 

"You damn well know Steve did it," Gareth chimes in, as if he hasn't been taking advantage of Steve's free barber services, too. 

"The cut isn't technically bad," Goodie says, "it just looks stupid on Eddie." 

"It looks stupid on everyone," Jeff chimes in, and Eddie feels defeated.

Maybe Steve will shave it all off for him. He can start over, and hopefully not be such a fucking idiot next time.

"I thought you couldn't take me seriously?" Eddie asks, hands cuffed to the bed frame. He yanks, digging into the wooden spindles. He likes that they're all scuffed from fucking Steve.

"I can't," Steve says, and starts stripping the pillow out of its case.

"What're you—"

But his question is cut off, muffled, from Steve shoving the pillowcase over Eddie's head.

Eddie dick gets impossibly harder, and he can feel his own breath blowing back in his face, trapped beneath the cotton.

Steve slides into him, and Eddie keens.

And Eddie comes. Fast. He never comes fast. Not anymore. He knows it's mostly about his prostate and the unexpected sack over his head. 

"Did you just come?" Steve asks, and Eddie's embarrassed. This whole arrangement began due to his sexual deviance, his delayed orgasms, if not outright erectile dysfunction, and if that's clearing up? 

Fuck. 

"Yeah," Eddie mumbles, voice muffled. 

"Shit," Steve says, and Eddie feels the bile rising. He needs the pillowcase off. He needs to wear it forever. "That's hot."

And Eddie relaxes, just a bit. Then, Steve's hand grasps at the top of the pillowcase, "Want me to pull this off?" 

"No!" 

"Want me to pull out?" 

"No. Keep fucking me," Eddie says, grateful his face is covered. 

And Steve does. Eddie isn't overstimulated. That's not really something he feels these days. 

He kinda misses it. And the hair-trigger of youth. 

But he relaxes, breath hot, wrists sore, and enjoys the sensation of Steve fucking him at whatever pace he wants. Only worried about himself for once. Chasing his own orgasm, and not just trying to coax Eddie's out of hiding. 

It's a slow, easy grind and without being able to see, Eddie focuses on the sound of Steve's breathing. The warmth of his hands gripping Eddie's hips, holding him firmly in place. 

The slide of his thick, hard cock. 

When Steve comes, it's his breathy, soft moan of satisfaction that does Eddie in. 

And all alone, here in the darkness, Eddie allows himself to feel hopelessly endeared. 

"Just shave it off," Eddie says, running his hand over the top of his head. At least Steve didn't take the flat top super close to the skin. That would would have been fucking tragic.

Steve studies him carefully, "You don't have to go full buzzcut. I can work with this. Do you trust me?"

Of course Eddie trusts him. He's trusted Steve Harrington since they stomped through the Upside Down together.

Plus, Steve can't make it any worse than this. Eddie'd committed to the buzzcut. Anything's fine.

"Do what you gotta do," Eddie says, and Steve gets to work.

Eddie has nearly dozed off, when Steve deems it finished.

"There. All done."

Eddie reaches around, and finds almost all of his length gone. Except.

"Did you give me a rattail?" 

"Yep."

"That's mean," Eddie says.

"I thought you wanted mean?" Steve counters, and well, Eddie can't argue with that.

If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @corrodedcoffinfest and follow along with the fun! 🦇

Notes: I've connected all four of the haircut prompts into one universe, and they'll be posted on Sundays this month.

It doesn't look bad. In fact, Eddie kind of likes it. It's just different enough that he feels like something's changed. And after everything he's gone through, it's nice to feel like he's made a change of his own volition.

It's been a rough decade. Nothing has gone right.

Except for Steve. 

But they don't talk about that, instead they just do this thing together in between the failed attempts of either of them trying to date someone else.

That hasn't happened in forever.

Literal years, if Eddie's memory isn't all fucked up. That's usually Steve's thing. Eddie is Steve's extra brainpower, and Steve is Eddie's extended mobility. They're both okay, just a little bit damaged on the bad days. On the good days? Nobody would notice anything terrible had ever happened to them at all.

Eddie longs for more of the good days than the bad, and that's what they've gotten for a while.

Robin calls them co-dependent, which Eddie thinks is rich, coming from her.

Steve might still go chase pussy whenever he feels the need to coddle and cuddle, but Eddie doesn't ask, so Steve doesn't tell. But it's been a long time since anyone has come along to put a pin in what they do with one another.

"Keep it dry for forty-eight hours," Steve bosses, and Eddie gives him a sarcastic salute. 

Less than twenty-four hours later, Eddie dabs at his hair in front of the sink, as Steve stands in the doorway.

"I said no water," Steve bitches, and Eddie wheels on him.

"Well, maybe you shouldn't have shot your load in my hair then," Eddie snaps, and Steve just laughs, scratching his bare stomach with his blunt nails.

"You're the one that moved," Steve accuses.

"I had a leg cramp. You know, where all that muscle is fucked? From some bats trying to rip me limb from limb? That ringing any bells?"

Steve just smiles, unbothered. Then says, "I'm gonna head out."

It puts Eddie in an instant bad mood. Steve's always heading out, never staying, but Eddie only has himself to blame for how things are. They have an arrangement, one that Eddie very carefully crafted to his liking. An arrangement only. Not a relationship. And after Eddie pushed and pushed, making sure to plant Steve at arm's length, now he's the pissy one that Steve's stayed just out of reach.

The audacity.

Eddie made his bed, he has to lie in it.

"Why you telling me for?" Eddie snaps, turning back towards the mirror. 

Steve's reflection flips him off, before he disappears.

Hair finally washed, Eddie sits on the porch, damp curls soaking his shoulders through his t-shirt. 

Eddie can hear Steve's car coming up the road before he can see him. 

When he arrives, he slams the door, stilling in the dirt driveway, staring at Eddie.

"I've had a bad day," Steve says, and Eddie stands.

"Me too," Eddie says, and that's all he needs to say.

It's on.

Eddie's on his knees, and Steve's hands are fisted in his hair. It's grounding. Steve tugging him up and down, forcing his hot, wet mouth to glide along Steve's hard length. 

His jaw aches, and he's grateful to feel.

"That's it," Steve says, "suck my dick like I paid you to do it."

Eddie's trying. Eddie's always trying.

And he likes that Steve makes him feel like it's still not good enough. He doesn't want to coast. Doesn't want to rest on his laurels. He wants to make Steve feel better than he did the last time. More satisfied.

It'd taken some forceful redirection to scrub Steve's softness from their encounters. Those first months, even as good as it felt, it made Eddie's skin crawl. Steve petting him, or holding his hand, or god-fucking-forbid, thrusting into him gently as he stared in Eddie's eyes. Like he wanted to see his soul.

No fucking thank you.

That's for relationships, and since they don't have one of those? Eddie's out on any of that bullshit.

So, Eddie had to mold him. Had to gently lead him into a little roughness, a half-step at a time. Steve won't hurt him, but he will use his words to cut, he will pin Eddie to the mattress, or pull his hair, and that's just fucking fine with Eddie.

Eddie closes his eyes and lets Steve just fuck his mouth. Lets him ram that big cock down as far as he wants to, and when he comes, Eddie swallows. 

His own dick is hard, but pretty indifferent at being ignored, and when Steve manhandles Eddie to the couch, onto his back, Eddie knows where this is going. Steve grabs the lube off the end table, slicking up Eddie, slicking up himself, and getting a quick two fingers deep.

And then he's seated. 

Eddie prefers it the other way around, but sometimes, sometimes Steve just takes what he wants, and that? Well, that's just fine with Eddie. He'll let Steve ride his cock, chasing after whatever he needs.

It's not like Eddie's dick cares. He still gets hard, but his orgasm likes to take its sweet-ass time after whatever nerve damage the bats caused, so if Steve wants to fuck himself silly? He can go for it.

Hips rolling.

The pleasure's dulled for Eddie, the sensations lost somewhere down a tunnel, meaning all he can do is last, and sometimes, like today, Steve uses that to his advantage, pinching Eddie's good nipple, a good twist, making Eddie laugh.

If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @corrodedcoffinfest and follow along with the fun! 🦇

She reached out to her son. “I’m sorry I must leave you with nothing. But your Uncle Teddy is a cruel man and will toss you out before I am even cool in my grave. If it had been your Uncle Wayne, you wouldn’t be treated so. But he was wisely given the mill as he will run it well.”

Eddie came forward and knelt at her side. “It’s okay, Mother. I don’t blame Uncle Teddy. He has a wife and young children. I wouldn’t want someone like me living here either.”

“Don’t talk like that,” Elizabeth murmured. “Like you’re some burden. Because you aren’t. You aren’t your father either. But the cat will take care of you. I promise.”

Eddie nodded as tears streamed down his face. He would tell her anything her last moments. “I know, Mother.”

She cupped his cheek in her palm and then was gone.

Eddie cried and cried until he was sure he become sick from it. Just when he reached the darkest despair, he felt a nudge at his elbow. He looked down to see the cat. His mother had always jokingly called him Puss, but he did have a name once upon a time.

“I’ll be okay, little one,” Eddie muttered as he got achingly to his feet.

He walked over to the pantry and opened it up to find that there wasn’t much left as he had been too busy taking care of his mother in her last days to work.

No work meant no money, no money meant no food.

He grabbed the last bit of stale bread and bit of cheese nearing the end of its life and cut a bit off for the cat.

The cat batted at it for a moment before it meowed at him. Only the meow sounded like actual words.

“Save it for yourself, master,” the cat said, “I can catch mice well enough for my own dinner.”

Eddie leapt to his feet. “Holy shit! You can talk!”

The cat laughed. “For a great many a year, yes. You just hadn’t paid attention until now.”

“Just how old are you?” Eddie asked, the question blurting from his lips before he could stop to think about it.

“Older than you would believe,” the cat said with a chuckle. “But I’m afraid we don’t have time for pleasantries. You’ll need to finish that food, and then contact someone to collect your mother. God rest her soul.”

Eddie nodded and hurried to do as he was told.

“The first thing I must do is find you shelter,” the cat said with a heavy sigh. “If you’ll give me the boots and the silk bag, I’ll be as quick as I can.”

A thousand questions ran through Eddie’s head, but the one that came out of his mouth was, “What do I call you? I’m not calling you Puss. Not even the tiniest bit sorry.”

The cat grinned. “I’ve been called many names, I am merely the Master Cat. But if you must call me something, Dustin will do.”

Eddie blinked at him for a moment. “Well Master Cat, Dustin it is.” Then he stood up and got the sack and boots. “I was going to sell them to see if I could get enough money to at least rent a room, but if you think you can do better with them, be my guest.”

Dustin took them silently and pulled the boots on his feet, fitting perfectly. He slung the bag over his shoulder and then stood on his hind legs like a human.

“Uh...” Eddie said dumbly. “How long have you been able to do that?” Then he shook his head. “Never mind, stupid question really. You’re weird. And I like that.”

Dustin smiled up at him and then took a deep bow. “Thank you, my lord. I will be on my way, but will be back tomorrow at dawn.”

Eddie nodded, but as the cat made for the door, he leapt to his feet. “Wait a moment!” he cried.

The cat stopped and turned to him. Eddie picked up a hat from one of his mom’s porcelain dolls and placed it on Dustin’s head.

“There we go!” Eddie said proudly. “You can’t go out without a hat.”

Dustin touched the rim reverently and then nodded, before he slipped out of the door and into the night.

Then Eddie got to work sending out messages to the doctor, the undertaker, and the lawyer.

The first and the last were there as soon as they could. The doctor declared her dead as the lawyer went over all the things that would be sold before his uncle, Teddy took residence.

It didn’t amount to much, but it would buy him lodging and food for awhile. Not a long while, but hopefully long enough to find his own place, and even work.

He had been apprenticed to a luthier before his mother got sick, but he doubted his old master would take him back. Especially with no one to pay for his lodging and food.

The undertaker had arrived shortly after the lawyer left, and the two of them took away the remains of Elizabeth Munson, leaving Eddie alone for the first time in far, far too long.

He laid in his own bed–well, it’s wasn’t really his anymore. But he laid in bed and cried himself to sleep.

~

Come morning, there was a soft scratching noise at the front door, and it took Eddie a moment to realize it must of have been the cat. He got on his feet and staggered to the door in a daze.

Eddie rubbed his eyes wearily and opened the door. Dawn pierced his sleep-addled brain as Dustin scampered in, kicking the door closed behind him.

“I have secured us lodging in a small hut down the way from the woman churns the butter and makes the cream,” Dustin said brightly, taking off his hat and laying down his sack.

He began to pull out fresh bread and cheese and handed it over to Eddie for his breakfast. Then he pulled out a bottle of milk and set it front of him.

“This is quite the breakfast, my friend,” Eddie said, gobbling down the meal with relish, savoring each bite as if it was the ambrosia of the gods. “Thank you.”

Dustin bowed low. “It is my pleasure. I think it is best that we make haste and leave before your brother arrives. The lawyer, will be here to take care of everything. I will see to that once you are settled in your new lodgings.”

Eddie nodded and did as he was told.

As he followed the cat, who was running all fours, boots and all, down the pathway to the diary maid’s house, he was struck by the fact that he should find all this ridiculous. Just doing whatever a cat said.

But Dustin hadn’t steered him wrong yet and it was nice not having to think at the moment. He was distraught with the death of the only parent who had loved him and it was all he could think about it.

Mrs. Henderson was waiting for him at the door of the small cottage he would be renting from her.

It had a bed, a table, a chair, and small kitchen. It was barely large enough for Eddie, but it was shelter and he wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth.

“Thank you,” he muttered, his clothes and small possessions in the Dustin’s bag. “I’ll be able to pay you at the first of the month.”

Mrs. Henderson nodded. “Just whenever you can, sweetie. You’ve got a good cat there, he’ll take care you. Don’t you worry about a thing.”

She bent down and started petting Dustin until he was limp and purring. She kissed his forehead. “You take care of each other, and I’ll be just over there.” And pointed to a nice cottage just across the way.

Eddie and Dustin nodded and they went inside their new home. As Dustin started emptying his sack, Eddie just went slack with relief, falling to his knees sobbing with the grief of everything that had happened.

Dustin came up to him and just sat down beside him, purring. Nothing else, just purring. Eddie put his hand on the cat’s head and just sobbed until every last ounce of grief and pain poured out of him.

When Eddie’s sobs had slackened to dry hiccups, Dustin nudged his head with his head until Eddie got to his feet.

He stumbled over to the chair and sat down with a huff, throwing his head back. “God, Dustin. It hasn’t even been a full day since she died and I can’t imagine my life without her. She was the only person whoever loved me for me.”

Dustin hopped up onto the table and rubbed his head against Eddie’s. “It’ll be all right, Master. I have figured out worst conundrums then this. I cannot bring your mother, back nor can I replace her in your heart. But I will find someone who will love you for you. It will take some time, but have no fear, by the end of this year, you will have everything you every dreamed about having.”

Eddie gulped and shook his head. “How can you do these things? Are you magical cat? A witch or wizard in animal form? Something else that looks like a cat? Why are you doing these things?”

Dustin sat down and looked up at Eddie calculatingly. “Long ago, an ancestor of yours saved my life and I promised that for each of my nine lives I would bring each generation to prosperity. What they do with that prosperity is up to them. Your father squandered all he had so it went to his brothers. But your grandfather made a thriving industry. Your great grandfather was a successful sea merchant. And so on and so forth. As for what I am? I told you. I am merely the Master Cat. I am clever, smart, and wily as a fox.”

Eddie frowned, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. “So you just go up to people and trick them into doing what you want them to?”

Dustin laughed. “That is a very succinct way to put it, but yes. I will always look out for you so when I ask you to something, no matter how strange, you’ll do it. Because it will work out. On my honor as a Master Cat.”

Eddie eyed the curly furred, black and white creature and then nodded. “You have a deal.”

Dustin grinned. “Oh trust me, I have a lot more than that.”

Eddie cocked his head to the side in confusion.

“I have a plan,” the cat said wickedly. “And you are in for a very wild ride.”

~

Tag List: ELEVEN SLOTS REMAINING

1- @after-the-end-times @lost-andstill-lost @zerokrox-blog @carlyv @maya-custodios-dionach

2- @yikes-a-bee @swimmingbirdrunningrock @sadisticaltarts @gloomysoup @gregre369

3- @wonderland-girl143-blog @kultiras @val-from-lawrence @dolphincliffs @dust-in-the-internet

4- @bookworm0690 @emeraldzephyr @dreamercec @awkwardgravity1 @micheledawn1975

5- @stedestielfrattficlover @useless-nb-bisexual @rina777 @mentallyundone @kroymu09

6- @counting-dollars-counting-stars @ravenfrog @steddieislife @stripey82 @beelze-the-bubkiss

7- @samsoble @mensch-anthropos-human @ollieolive @blackpanzy @disrespectedgoatman

“This is the second time you're doing this class, Eddie. At least pretend you're trying. Do you know what fungi and bacteria have in common?”

“No,” Eddie admits, neck burning with heat. “But I could tell you the difference between a teacher and a three-dollar hoo-”

Steve Harrington raises his hand. “Please, sir. May I?”

Hagan - far enough on the edge of his seat to challenge the laws of physics - hits him in the ribs. Harrington ignores him, smiling at Cooper as he turns towards him.

“Fair enough, Steve. At least some of us are applying themselves. What do you think?”

Harrington runs a hand through his stupid, shiny hair and licks his stupid, pretty lips.

“They're both, um… tiny life forms. Micro- … What’s the word? Microorgasms?”

The class roars. Hagan actually does fall off his chair.

“Microorgasms?” he wheezes. Harrington smiles sheepishly. His eyes dart across the room. Eddie ducks his head and starts sharpening his pencil. “Is that what the girls call it? Because if it is, you-”

“Silence,” Cooper yells. “Calm down, everybody, this will be on the test. Now, who can name another example of microorganisms?”

*

“He shouldn’t have done that.”

Eddie groans and slams his locker shut. He packed up extra slowly, giving the rest of the class plenty of time to leave. No such luck, apparently.

At least it’s just Harrington, without his entourage. He’s leaning against the wall on Eddie’s right, foot propped up, bag slung loosely over one shoulder. The epitome of cool and suave. No trace of the humilation that ought to still cling to him like tar.

“Cooper,” Harrington explains, like Eddie asked for it. “I mean, he saw you weren’t paying attention, and he still decided to call you out. He’s an idiot. Don’t feel down about it.”

“I’m not,” Eddie lies. And then, because biting an offered hand is the only way he knows how to react to kindness, “Not like I made an ass of myself in front of everyone.”

Harrington shrugs.

“They’ll have forgotten about it by Monday. And besides, I was sort of thinking on my feet. Needed to find some way of getting them off your back.”

“Yeah, well, I didn't ask you to,” Eddie snaps. The guy has no damn right to be so unbothered. No damn right to have embarrassment just slide off him like water off an oil film. None at all to be this fucking nice about it. “I can take care of myself, no need for you to swoop in like some white knigh- … Hold on a damn second, did you do that on purpose?”

“No idea what you mean,” Harrington says, pushing off the wall. His hand squeezes Eddie's shoulder as he passes. “Anyway, lemme know if you need a study buddy. I feel like we could both brush up on our microorgasms.”

Eddie keeps staring at the empty corridor long after he's gone.

Thankfully Steve picked up the phone immediately and what followed was clearly enough to stress the poor guy further, it ending with him slamming the phone down on the receiver.

Then he pointed the gun at Karen and Eddie honestly feared the worst, but it seemed more like he was just waving it around as he bit out, “Open the doors and let everyone out but you and smart mouth over here. Now.”

Karen scrambled to her feet and did as she was told. She pressed a button that opened the metal cages that had dropped in front of the entrance.

“Go on!” Steve growled. “Everyone out but Karen and Smart Mouth, now!”

To Dean and Riley’s credit, they did so a tad unwillingly, not wanting to leave Eddie and Karen alone with Steve, but with Steve waving the gun about, they did as he was told.

Almost immediately the alarms stopped their shrieking and Steve seemed to relax a little more.

Eddie raised his hand. “Is there a reason I wasn’t let go?”

Steve looked at him for a moment and then cocked his head like fucking golden retriever. “I like your voice, it’s soothing.”

Eddie blinked at him for a moment. “I–” He closed his mouth again. He really didn’t have an argument for that. Not really. If his presence kept Steve from doing stupid, then he would do it. Because even if the only life he took was his own, that was one life too many.

“Yeah, okay, sweetheart,” he said instead. “And what’s the reason for keeping Karen with us, then?”

“Because I need her keys?” Steve asked more than he said, like he wasn’t sure about that.

“My keys?” Karen asked, frowning down at the keys in her hand. “Why my keys?”

Steve turned to her like she was stupid. “Because I need the manager’s keys to get my locked box? You know the whole fucking reason I’m here?!”

She looked down at the keys in her hand and then back up at Steve. “If I gave you my keys, you’d let me go?”

Eddie stared at her in shock. She was just going to walk out that door and leave him with a crazed lunatic like that? What the hell?

Steve looked at her for a moment as if he was thinking the same thing. “Provided the key to the locked boxes actually is on that key ring.”

Oh. Eddie thought. So he wasn’t so crazy that he would just take her word for it. That meant that at the very least he could be reasoned with.

Eddie reached out for the keys. “Which one is the key to the vault?”

Karen frowned that wasn’t the key Steve was asking for, but she pointed to a small brass key. “It can only be used exactly at 8am every morning.”

Eddie took the keys from her and worked that key off the ring and handed her the key back. “Now which one is to the security boxes?”

She pointed to the middle silver key. He nodded and went over the room that had the rows and rows of locked boxes. He went to put the key in the door when she called out.

“Wait!” Karen cried. “The middle one opens the boxes not to the box vault. You’ll want the round silver key. If you tried any other key, it would have sounded the alarms and I don’t think Steve would have liked that much.”

Just then the phone rang again and all three of them turned to it, staring at it in shock.

~

Hopper was ready to call Callahan to take the shot when a bunch of people came piling out of the bank.

According to one former hostage, a young man named Riley Jones, that the only people left was the manager, Karen Wheeler, the local drug dealer, turned straight, Eddie Munson and the bank robber, Steve Harrington.

“Holy shit,” Hopper growled once Riley was led away. The other witnesses all said the same thing, Steve Harrington was standing in the middle of that bank with a loaded revolver and looking like he was fresh out of the asylum.

He spoke into his walkie talkie on his shoulder. “Get me Harrington’s doctor at Pennhurst, I need to know how unstable he actually is!”

“He’s not in the slightest,” a warm voice said from his elbow and when Hopper turned he saw a well dressed man with a round face and calming demeanor.

“And you are?” Hopper asked, eyeing him up.

“Dr. Sam Owens, psychiatrist and licensed therapist at Pennhurst Hospital and Asylum,” he replied handing Hopper his business card. “And for the last five years, Steve Harrington’s doctor.”

Hopper frowned. “How did you know to come here?” Something just wasn’t adding up.

“Oliver Granger made a statement to the media about his ‘ordeal’ and named Steve directly,” Dr. Owens said dryly.

“That son of a bitch!” Hopper snarled. “Is he trying to get the remaining hostages killed! I’m going to kill him. Fucking hell! I told him! I fucking told him that any and all press needed to come through me!”

Dr. Owens nodded. “And get Steve killed,” he added pointedly. “Which is the last thing I want.”

Hopper rubbed his face in frustration. “All right, Dr. Owens give me everything you’ve got. I came to town the year after this mess, so just know it wasn’t my fuck up.” Then he spoke into his walkie talkie. “Belay that, I’ve got the doc, I need the entire case file for Harrington murders ASAP!”

“First off,” Dr. Owens said sternly, “the thing you must absolutely be clear on, Steve is not insane. Not even a little.”

Hopper raised an eyebrow. “Uh...Doc, I don’t mean to show my ass on this, but doesn’t five years in Pennhurst show evidence contrary to that statement?”

“No it just means that whatever was locked inside Steve’s mind was considered dangerous enough that he needed to be deemed crazy enough that the truth would never come out,” Dr. Owens said coolly.

“I don’t believe in conspiracies, Doc,” Hopper growled. “And you shouldn’t either.”

“Oh?” Dr. Owens said innocently. “Where did he get a gun in the time it took for him to drive from Pennhurst to Hawkins and the bank? Because the timeline doesn’t add up.”

Hopper opened his mouth to refute that, but then he frowned. He been informed enough times when a criminal was being released to know that the release time was at 10am. It was barely noon now. Steve Harrington would have had to have the gun on him or in his car and that didn’t make sense either.

“Did Steve have a gun in his possession when he was admitted to the hospital?” Hopper asked rubbing his chin thoughtfully. “Because I was sure that sort of thing was frowned upon.”

Dr. Owens shook his head. “Absolutely not! And even if he had it would have been taken away for evidence!”

Just then an officer came up to them with a small file. “What the fuck is that?”

“The Harrington Murders file?” the officer asked, cocking his head to the side. “It’s what you asked for.”

Hopper looked down at the folder and then back up at the officer. “Where’s the rest of it?”

“That’s all of it,” the officer insisted. “Plus the blood samples, there wasn’t much to the case. It was pretty cut and dried that Steve Harrington did. It was just whether or not he’d go to jail or the nut house.”

Dr. Owens glared at the man and he sputtered, “I mean the mental hospital.” He glanced nervously at the doctor before turning back to Hopper. “Is that all?”

Hopper waved him off and opened the file. There were plenty of pictures of the scene and testimony from Jack Hagan, the male victim’s father, and photos of Steve in the aftermath. But nothing else. He looked up at Dr. Owens. “Have you seen this shit?”

“Unfortunately, yes,” Dr. Owens said gravely. “Your predecessor was eager to put someone, anyone away for the murder of those two adolescences and there he was the perfect scapegoat, blood all over him, no memory of what happened. Steve suffered. Unfathomably so.”

Hopper closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Please tell me the clothes Steve is wearing isn’t the clothes that he was arrested in.”

“I honestly have no idea,” Dr. Owens sneered. “I wasn’t allowed to be at his release.”

“I’m sorry, what?”

“They told me that because it was my recommendation against the will of the hospital board that I wasn’t allowed to be there at his release.”

Hopper sighed. He picked up the phone and called the bank again. The only way he was going to get the answers he needed was talking to the source.

“Hey, Hop!” Eddie answered gleefully. “Sorry, Stevie can’t come to the phone right now.”

“Munson,” Hopper replied dryly. “Nice to know you’re still alive to annoy the hell out of me. Can you tell me what the situation is right now?”

“Sure thing, Chief,” Eddie continued brightly. “There was a slight misunderstanding and Karen is very, very sorry. Aren’t you, Karen? She says she sorry.”

Hopper pinched his nose. Munson was being deliberately obtuse. Probably to stall for time. Time for what he didn’t know, but he was just going to have to play along.

“Can you tell me what kind of gun Harrington has?” he asked, exasperated.

“Oh goody!” Eddie said. “You do know who you’re dealing with! That’s so good! It’s a hand gun. And no, I’m not blowing smoke up your ass when I tell you I don’t know what kind.”

Hopper shook his head. “That’s fine, son,” he said. “Is it an old fashion gun with a barrel in middle like you see in westerns or is it a modern gun with a clip at the bottom?”

There was silence for a moment before Eddie said, “Uh... it appears to be one of those new fangled things.”

Dr. Owens snorted and Hopper rolled his eyes.

“Right,” Hopper huffed. “Is there any chance of you knowing what Harrington is doing holding up a bank and how we can end this nice and peaceful like?”

“I’m not one hundred percent on that, Chief,” Eddie admitted. “But um... Karen Wheeler is on her way out to you and hopefully she can clear things up for you.”

And then the line hung up again.

But sure enough, a very frazzled Karen Wheeler came rushing out of the bank, hurrying across the street to line of police cars.

“Chief Hopper, Chief Hopper!” she cried. “Oh it’s just dreadful!”

~

Tag List: ELEVEN SLOTS REMAINING

1- @after-the-end-times @lost-andstill-lost @zerokrox-blog @carlyv @maya-custodios-dionach

2- @yikes-a-bee @swimmingbirdrunningrock @sadisticaltarts @gloomysoup @gregre369

3- @wonderland-girl143-blog @kultiras @val-from-lawrence @dolphincliffs @dust-in-the-internet

4- @bookworm0690 @emeraldzephyr @dreamercec @awkwardgravity1 @micheledawn1975

5- @stedestielfrattficlover @useless-nb-bisexual @rina777 @mentallyundone @kroymu09

6- @counting-dollars-counting-stars @ravenfrog @steddieislife @stripey82 @beelze-the-bubkiss

7- @samsoble @mensch-anthropos-human @ollieolive @blackpanzy @disrespectedgoatman

He chuckled and picked up his guitar. He began strumming the beat in his head. Just laying out the music as he heard it.

“Wait, wait,” Brian said, picking up his bass. “Start over.”

So Eddie did and about halfway through, Brian began the beat and suddenly everyone was nodding along.

Then Gareth started tapping on his knee with his drumsticks. “Yeah, this has got some real potential for sure.”

“Keep going,” Jeff said, having stolen the notebook from Eddie and was writing everything down.

Eddie shook his head. “That’s all I’ve got for now.”

Jeff looked up from the notebook. “That’s two-thirds a song, man. Don’t beat yourself up. That was fucking amazing. Keep at it and maybe once you’ve got it where you want it, you can start the lyrics.”

Eddie grinned. “Hell yeah! This really has the bones to be something great. I can feel it.”

“You keep writing those bangers,” Gareth said with smirk, “and we’ll keep cashing those checks, man. We have close to twenty songs that we could put on this first album and the label is practically salivating over every one of them.”

“Which we really need to get back to,” Brian said sadly, getting to his feet. “Back to the grind, boys.”

They all got to their feet, laughing and happy. This was way too much fun to be a grind.

~

Steve jumped up and down in place, shaking out his limbs as he warmed up before his first heat. This was it. This would be his last chance for a scholarship. He had heard back from the basketball scouts that they had selected other, more talented stars.

He walked up to block four and pulled his goggles down over his eyes. He got up on the block, ignoring his competitors who were doing the same.

The sound of the gun went off and Steve hit the water.

All sounds from the roar of the crowd, the shouting of Coach Myers, to the splashing of the other swimmers just...vanished.

Steve was in his element. He liked basketball. It was fun. Just like baseball. But he did those things for his dad, mostly.

But swimming?

That was special. That was where he excelled. His butterfly was flawless as he sliced through the water.

He tapped the sensor pad and surged out of the water. He pulled off his goggles and saw both his dad and Coach Myers screaming, pointing to the left.

Steve squinted at the time board and he’ll admit it took him three seconds too long to understand what it said.

He had beaten the state record.

He had beaten the state record.

Suddenly he was being pulled out of the water and surrounded by his teammates as they hugged him and cheered. Holy shit!

Steve looked back up at the bleachers and his dad was jumping up and down. He grinned from ear to ear. There was no way at least one of the schools the scouts were representing wouldn’t want a record breaker.

His team went on to win second in relay and that felt good too.

He was on top of the world. The whole team went out to celebrate, Charles footing the bill again.

Charles wasn’t sure who was happier, Coach Myers, Steve, or himself. He had been disappointed that the basketball scouts passed on Steve. But that didn’t matter now. Steve was going to get offers from around the country. There was no doubt about that.

~

“And that’s wrap, gentlemen!” the producer said from the booth. “You have your first album all done and dusted. Have you all decided on your first single?”

“We’ve talked about it and thought that the best bet would be ‘Runner’,” Jeff said, setting down his guitar. He was the one to lay down his part of the tracks.

“That would be my choice as well,” the producer agreed. “That one or ‘Kill or Be Killed’.”

“We were thinking of that one for the single before the release of the album,” Eddie piped up. “Really hit the ground running for the debut.”

Their producer, Janice David had been working with them on their album for the last three months. It was just going to be about ten songs on it and it was a hard, but very rewarding process.

Janice smiled at them. “I can get behind that.” She turned to Eddie. “What’s the progress on that song you’ve been working on?”

“It’s still not quite there,” Eddie admitted. “There is something missing that I haven’t figured out yet.”

“You’ll get there,” she said firmly. “You’re a really talented songwriter. If this doesn’t work out for you guys, you’ll at least have that.”

Eddie flushed and shoved a strand of hair into his face to hide it. He was still reeling from the fact that their were people who knew these things thought he was not just good enough, but good full stop.

“All right,” she said clapping her hands together. “Go celebrate! Spend some of that advance money and enjoy LA!”

Corroded Coffin cheered and soon they filed out onto street.

“Where should we go?” Jeff asked. “It’s not like there is much we can do because we are all under age?”

Eddie rubbed his chin thoughtfully. That was certainly true. “I say we go on the hunt for the best burger joint!”

They set up another cheer and Gareth stepped forward to hail a taxi. Within minutes they had one pull to the curb and they hopped in, Eddie taking the front seat.

“Where to, gentlemen?” the cabbie asked.

“We’re new in town and on the hunt for the best burger,” Brian explained. “You got any good recommendations?”

The cabbie grinned. “Just leave it to me, boys. I’ve got just the place.”

~

Steve came home the Friday before spring break and was surprised to see his dad waiting for him at the door.

“Hey, Dad,” he greeted uneasily. “What’s up?”

Charles grinned. “Nothing bad, I promise but I want to show you something. Follow me.”

Steve did as he was told and followed his dad into his office. Charles moved out of the way of the desk to sit behind it and that was when Steve noticed a large pile of envelopes on the desk and from how thick there were, there were at least four or five acceptance letters from some pretty big name schools.

“Have a seat, Steve,” Charles said warmly. “I think we are going to have a long night going through all the offers. I’ve ordered us pizza.”

Steve huffed out a laugh. A laugh that became a giggle without his permission. Suddenly both him and Charles were laughing together.

“Grab me a legal pad,” he said pulling up an arm chair next to the other side of the desk. “Let’s dive into this.”

Charles handed him a yellow legal pad and blue pen. “Start at the top, Steve. Let’s see who’ve you got.”

Steve picked up the first one and with trembling hands read the sender line on the envelope. “Duke University, Durham North Carolina.”

Charles let out a low whistle. “Hand that here and I’ll read you the offer.”

Steve did and with his dad’s help wrote down on the legal pad all what they were willing to offer Steve. They went through the list. Northwestern, Notre Dame, UCLA, Stanford, Princeton, and lastly Harvard.

“So that’s pretty pricey education you’re staring down,” Charles warned him. “You would have to keep your grades above a C level and can’t miss a single practice. Is that really what you want? Because I can absolutely sign the check for any one of these universities provided you to go into law.”

Steve chewed on his bottom lip for a moment. He let out a shuddering breath and ran his fingers through his hair. “No, I want to be a teacher and a coach. That’s where I feel like I really shine and I’m ready to do the hard work to get what I want.”

Charles nodded. “All right so your best shots are Standford, Duke, and Northwestern. They are offering full ride with extra amenities for being on the swim team.”

Be close to home, be on the East Coast, or be on the West Coast? That was the real question. “Standford.”

Charles studied him for a moment and then nodded again. “That would have been my first choice for you regardless your major. It has one of them best swim teams in the nation.”

Steve let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. His dad approved of his choice and that meant everything to him.

“Thanks,” he breathed.

“I’ll draft up the rejection letters and the acceptance letter,” Charles said with a smile, “for you to read over and sign by Monday.”

“I really appreciate this,” Steve said, his voice starting wobble. “I know it not what you want for me, but I really think I’ll be good at it.”

Charles stood up and came around the desk. He knelt in front of Steve and cupped his face in his hands. “I think that if you wanted to do anything you could do it. You are incredibly smart and talented. And I will always love you.”

Steve threw himself into his dad’s arms and just sobbed.

Charles just held him until all the tears had dried and Steve’s chest felt light for the first time since his mom passed away. Maybe things were going to be okay after all.

~

Tag List: NINE SLOTS REMAINING

1- @after-the-end-times @lost-andstill-lost @zerokrox-blog @carlyv @maya-custodios-dionach

2- @yikes-a-bee @swimmingbirdrunningrock @sadisticaltarts @gloomysoup @gregre369

3- @wonderland-girl143-blog @kultiras @val-from-lawrence @dolphincliffs @dust-in-the-internet

4- @bookworm0690 @emeraldzephyr @dreamercec @awkwardgravity1 @micheledawn1975

5- @stedestielfrattficlover @useless-nb-bisexual @rina777 @mentallyundone @kroymu09

6- @counting-dollars-counting-stars @ravenfrog @steddieislife @stripey82 @beelze-the-bubkiss

7- @samsoble @mensch-anthropos-human @ollieolive @blackpanzy @disrespectedgoatman

8- @blisschaoss @ellietheasexylibrarian @saint-of-roses @dragon-on-main @a-drop-of-magic

Mrs. Walsh looked down at the documents in front of her. “Yes, Maxine Mayfield. Mother currently in prison.”

“Yes,” Steve said through gritted teeth. “She signed away her rights as a parent.”

Mrs. Walsh pursed her lips together. “I also see you two aren’t married, is that correct?”

Steve and Robin shared a glance.

“We were told that wasn’t going to be a problem...” Robin said with deadly calm. “We have completed all the requirements for her adoption, is there something else?”

Mrs. Walsh frowned, a wrinkle appearing on her brow that looked wildly unnatural. “Yes, you have completed all the requirements, and the fee has cleared. But I have heard rumors about that place. That Hope House. How it used to be run by decent folk and is now overrun with homosexuals.” She said the last word as though it was poison on her lips.

“There is nothing that says that a child needs a father and a mother,” Steve said, is voice dripping with venom. “I was raised by my mother. My father was a philandering abuser and my mom raised me on her own.”

Robin crossed her legs and looked the witch straight in the eye. “Plus are you going to tell the chief of police that can’t adopt a little because he isn’t married? Because I understand he is going through the same process right now.”

“That is a private matter,” she snarled. “What would you know about it?”

“I’ve known Jim Hopper since I was eight,” Steve said simply. “Ellie, his foster daughter, was originally sent to Hope House when she was first found. I’m very close to them both.”

Mrs. Walsh’s face soured so much she looked as though she just swallowed a pickled lemon. She picked up the APPROVE stamp and slammed it against the document.

“Will you be changing her name?” she asked dryly, handing them their copy of the documents for hearing.

“No,” Steve said, smiling for the first time. “She wants to keep her name the way it is and I agree.”

Mrs. Walsh nodded, but said nothing.

Steve and Robin got to their feet and walked away without another word.

Eddie and Max were outside in the hallway, waiting. They looked up and Robin turned to the page and showed it to them. That great big ‘APPROVED’ in dark red letters.

Max and Eddie leapt to their feet and gave each other hugs.

“Now all we have to do is have Judge Newby sign off on it,” Steve said with a grin, “and you’ll officially be adopted.”

Max ran over to Steve and gave him a big hug. “Thank you so much, Steve!”

“I’m just glad it all worked out for you, Maxie,” he murmured into her hair.

~

Judge Newby looked out at the gallery with a smile. It was stacked with all of Max’s friends, their parents, and the adults from the Hope House. Directly behind her was Ellie and her new dad, Jim Hopper. Their hearing had been just before Max’s and everyone was thrilled.

Max sat between Robin and Steve, trying not to look as bored as she felt. There was a lot of legal speak and she just wanted it over with.

“It looks like everything is order,” he told the assembled. “Steven Ethan Harrington and Robin Melissa Buckley you are the new parents of Maxine Susan Harrington-Mayfield. Congratulations to you all.”

Max jumped up out of her seat to the cheers of those in gallery cheered as she hugged Robin and then Steve.

She held onto Steve as though he was her lifeline. And Steve supposed he was. She would have a much better chance at life now.

Steve turned to the gallery. “Who’s up for Benny’s?” he yelled. “My treat!”

Everyone cheered back.

~

Later at the diner, Max was tucked up under Steve’s arm. “You’re not mad I kept my mom’s last name?”

Steve shook his head. “I was honored enough to have you hyphenate the two. I would have been super duper okay if you stayed Max Mayfield. Because that’s who you were for most of your life.”

Max nodded. “I just wanted still have a connection to her, you know? Like I get she’s done some pretty fucked up things, but she’s still my mom and I love her.”

Steve kissed the top of her head. “I know you do and she does too. You did good.”

“Plus,” Max said cocking her head to the side, “putting your name in front of Mayfield means I’m in front of Dustin now.”

Steve burst out laughing as Dustin could be heard muttering, “Son of a bitch!”

“You could have gone for Buckley,” Robin said with a grin, “and beat out Will, too.”

Max shook her head. “I like Will.”

Dustin looked scandalized as everyone else burst out laughing.

“That will teach you to steal my socks!” she crowed.

“You stole my hockey puck first!” Dustin growled back.

Max just stuck out her tongue at him, folding her arms.

Eddie leaned on the palm of his hands and batted his eyelashes at Steve. “Are you sure you wanted this? Because you just signed up for a life time of sass.”

Steve looked at Max and then back at Eddie. “Yeah, I’m sure.”

~

It took roughly three weeks to get all the paper work for Eddie to work at Hope House completed, mostly because they were waiting for his year long parole to be over with and him to have his last inspection with Powell.

The parole officer walked through Eddie’s door and saw that it was mostly packed up and put away.

“You piss off these good people enough that they’re gonna kick you out the second you’re off parole?” Powell said, shaking his head and clicking his tongue reproachfully. “I always knew you were rotten to the core, Munson and these good people see it too.”

Eddie glared daggers at him. He just needed to get through this last inspection so he could have this man out of his life for good.

Just then Steve knocked on the door frame. “Hey, Eds, do you know how much longer this is going to take? Chrissy is really chomping at the bit to move onto this side with you and move me over, and she chose this room.”

Eddie grinned up at Steve. “It’ll probably be a bit, just have her help you move over to the kids’ side if she’s got that much energy to burn.”

Steve laughed. “I’ll be sure and tell her that, thanks! Officer Powell,” he greeted curtly.

“Harrington,” Powell greeted back, but he turned back to Eddie with a frown. “What’s all this then?”

Eddie raised his chin. He flopped on the bed and sat up, resting his elbows on his knees, linking his fingers together. “It’s just moving day is all.”

Powell looked over his shoulder in the direction Steve had gone. “I think I’m gonna have to check those boxes then...” he said turning back to Eddie.

“Be my guest.”

Powell tore everything out of the boxes dumping most of it on the floor as Eddie watched on in stoic silence. They had all predicted Powell was going to be like this and had made sure that anything truly valuable or fragile was already moved out to his new room.

Once he was done tearing through all of Eddie’s things and not finding so much as a cigarette, he turned to Eddie.

“Well, it looks like you just squeaked on by,” Powell growled. “But I know your kind. You’ll be back in the slammer before Christmas. You just can’t help it.”

Eddie bit his tongue and got through all the paper work signifying he was a free man. Once the paper work was properly filed and Eddie as standing outside the police station, Powell having shown him the door, he turned to the officer.

“The problem with men like you is that you will always be a small, petty man looking down at poor people like they’re filth, but the truth is Officer Powell all it takes is for one person to give a damn and anyone can make a life for themselves better then it was before. And for me it’s that man right there.” He pointed to Steve who was waiting for Eddie, leaning up against his beat up old pickup truck. “That man is everything you wished you could be but never will because you’re small and petty.”

He patted Powell on the chest and walked over to Steve. “You ready to go home, sweetheart?”

Steve smiled up at him. “Yeah, baby. Max is throwing an ice cream party for you and asked us to pick up some caramel topping on the way back.”

Eddie laughed. “She knows me far too well.”

“She does that,” Steve acknowledged. They got in the truck and drove away.

Over the next few years, Eddie proved to be a valuable member of Hope House and he was among the entire crew as they watched, Mike, Will, Dustin, Lucas, Max, and Ellie all walk across that stage to graduate from high school.

Steve looked over and saw that Eddie was crying. “Are you okay, baby?”

“I never thought that this would be my life,” Eddie whispered. “This is the best thing to ever happen to me and I owe it all to you.”

Steve laughed. “Nah, I’d say it was Dustin and Max’s fault.”

“How did you figure?”

“If Dustin hadn’t thrown Max’s sock into your breakfast,” Steve explained with a grin, “I think you would have continued to brood for waaaay longer.”

Eddie laughed brightly. “Yeah, yeah. Socks for breakfast. God, I love my life.”

“And I love you.”

Eddie peeked around, but it didn’t look like anyone was watching, so he gave Steve a light peck on the lips. “Love you too, darlin’.”

~

Tag List: COMPLETED

1- @after-the-end-times @lost-andstill-lost @zerokrox-blog @gregre369 @rubyfirepanda

2- @yikes-a-bee @swimmingbirdrunningrock @sadisticaltarts @gloomysoup @mrsjellymunson

3- @wonderland-girl143-blog @kultiras @val-from-lawrence @dolphincliffs @dust-in-the-internet

4- @bookworm0690 @emeraldzephyr @dreamercec @awkwardgravity1 @micheledawn1975

5- @stedestielfrattficlover @useless-nb-bisexual @rina777 @mentallyundone @kroymu09

6- @counting-dollars-counting-stars @ravenfrog @steddieislife @stripey82 @saint-of-roses

7- @beelze-the-bubkiss @samsoble @mensch-anthropos-human @ollieolive @blackpanzy

8- @blisschaoss @carlyv @ellietheasexylibrarian @disrespectedgoatman @warlordess

He was standing there in ripped black jeans and a Megadeath t-shirt that had seen better days. He was so grateful he had pulled on his clean white sneakers this morning otherwise he would look like one hell of a sight.

Eddie looked around. There were a couple of people in line for a cashier, an old man with a cane and half moon glass, and a mother with her toddler on her hip, there was a young couple getting their first mortgage, and young man speaking with another agent, probably about a cash box. Then he spotted the agent who could help him off to the side. He walked up to the employee’s desk.

“Hey, I would like to open up an account here,” he murmured. He wasn’t sure why, but speaking loud felt worse than shouting in a library.

The man at the desk brightened. “Of course! I’d be happy to help you with that. Please have a seat!”

Eddie sat down and filled out all the paper work and the guy even helped him cash his first check and determined how much Eddie should put away.

As he filled out the paper work, the woman with her kid and the old man had finished their business while the couple argued over whether or not her name should be on the house, and the young man was getting more and more agitated.

Just as Eddie was finishing up a business man in a suit and a young woman came in. He honestly couldn’t tell if she was his daughter or his girlfriend, but he kept one hand on her waist the whole time.

Then as he stood up to leave suddenly there was a loud crash as all the gates to the exits dropped and the alarm overhead started blaring.

There were screams from the wife and one of the tellers and shouts from the mortgage guy and the business man demanding what the hell was going on.

“Shut up!” the young man growled, rubbing his temple with what looked to Eddie like a small pistol. Thankfully the guy was at least keeping his finger off the trigger, but that did nothing lessen the tension in the room. “Shut up! Shut up!”

The room became so stone silent that you could hear the ragged breaths of the scared people around him.

Oh hell no, this was not happening. Not today. Eddie really had places to be and he wasn’t going to be stuck in a bank being held up by some yuppie jock, judging from his clothes and the very expensive swim watch on his wrist.

The sirens continued to wail and Eddie could see that the guy was starting to pace back and forth screaming obscenities at the teller who had obviously been the one to trigger the alarm.

“Everyone just stay where you are and don’t move!” the guy yelled, still rubbing his temple like it pained him.

Eddie just wished it wasn’t with the barrel of a gun.

The screaming from the bank patrons started up again and he was starting to get a headache.

The guy pressed the heels on his palms into his eyes and bellowed. “Everyone fucking shut the hell up!”

That’s when Eddie got it, whatever was going on here, the bank robber had no idea what he was doing and before rational thought entered his head, he was on his feet and loping over to where the guy was standing.

“Hey, darlin' is this your first robbery,” Eddie said cocking his head to his side, “because wow, you sure are riled up. Now, look this little hold up is cute and all but I really have places to be, so can we just call it a day and no one gets hurt?”

“Hold up?” the guy echoed and Eddie was suddenly more confused than before. “Unless you can do something about the fucking alarm get the fuck out of my face!”

Eddie blinked at him for a moment and then he was being pulled away. He was forced to sit down and he noticed his ‘rescuers’ were the mortgage guy and the safety deposit lady who started this whole mess.

“Oh my god,” she whispered. “What do you think you are doing? Don’t you know who that is?”

“Well, no,” he said rearing his head back. “Is there a reason I should know this guy?”

The mortgage guy whose nametag read Riley looked around to make sure the bank robber wasn’t looking their direction.

“That’s Steve Harrington,” he hissed under his breath. “He went crazy and killed his best friend and the guy’s girlfriend.”

“His rich father got him off and sent into Pennhurst Asylum,” the manager whispered, frightened. Eddie could finally see that her nametag read Karen. “My daughter went to school with him.”

Eddie’s whole head snapped over to the bank robber who was shouting for the alarms to stop and the recognition hit.

“Holy shit,” he whispered. “I went to school with him too.”

But this creature before him was not the Steve Harrington, King of Hawkins High Eddie knew back in the day. That boy was athletic, tanned, fitted clothes and a confidence that could only be bought by swaths and swaths of his parents money.

This was not that. The clothes he wore were ill-fitting and stained. It was clear that someone had tried to get the blood stains out but couldn’t. His belt was doing a lot of heavy lifting to keep the man from indecency.

His once beautiful hair hung limp in front of his eyes and he did nothing to push it out of his way. He was pale and more than just a little frail.

It was clear that he had been released from the hospital and came straight here. For whatever reason he was holding up a bank.

Not even Eddie’s dad was stupid enough to go from jail to a bank robbery right out of the clank.

Fuck.

Eddie was lucky to be alive.

~

Chief Jim Hopper was having a bad day. He had stopped drinking, then his ex-wife called and told him she was getting remarried in the fall to a nice guy named Paul of all things, the new rookie on the force had already got in trouble for waving his gun around, and the coffee machine in the office was broken.

Then as he was trying to copy a report, the copy machine ate it. Ate the whole god damned report.

He was so fucking done.

Hopper was grabbing his coat and calling it a day when the call came in.

There was an active robbery at the bank.

His eyes slid shut and he opened them slowly.

“I can take it for ya,” Powell said cocking his head to the side, “if you need to cut out of here.” He jutted his chin at the coat in his hand.

“You got an experience in negotiation?” Hopper growled, almost hoping the guy would say yes and he could in fact go home.

“Sorry, Chief,” Powell replied with a grimace.

Hopper let out a slow breath. “Yeah, I was afraid of that. Find out as much as you can and get at least three cars out there. Call Callahan in and tell him that the apartment building across the street has a clear line of sight to the front doors of the bank. Tell him to grab his rifle and head on up.”

Powell nodded and everyone rushed to do their jobs. Hopper let out a pained sigh and head not to his truck, but to his patrol car.

Once inside he started banging on the steering wheel and cussing and spitting. He threw the car in reverse and peeled out of the parking lot as if the devil himself was gunning for him.

It had taken less than twenty minutes to get everyone into place, but they still had no idea who the were dealing with.

They didn’t even know how many people were in there, let alone anything like demands.

“I want eyes in there!” Hopper growled. “I need to know what we are dealing with here! I need number of unsubs and hostages! I need the phone number of the bank, not the cute one they hand their customers, the real one, the one that gets me to someone in charge. And I need it yesterday!”

All around him people scrambled to do as they were told.

Powell came running up to him. “There is one perp with a what looks to be a pistol and about a half a dozen hostages.”

“God dammit,” Hopper swore. Six hostages was six hostages too many. “Is there a way we get ahold of whoever is in there?”

Powell nodded. “There’s a direct line to the manager’s office and from what the alarm company said, that’s where the distress call originated from.”

“Do you have the numb–?” Hopper began to ask when Powell shoved a boxy mobile phone at him and a piece of paper. “All right let’s do this, let’s see if this guy can be reasoned with.”

He dialed the number and immediately the line picked up, but before he could utter a word, someone screamed into the receiver, “Shut the alarms off! For god’s sake shut them off!”

“Well, hello to you to,” Hopper snarked. “I’ll turn the alarms off, but first you have to work with me. I’m Jim Hopper, chief of police. Who am I speaking to?”

“Oh well, fuck,” the robber hissed. “Yeah, I know who you are. I’m Steve and the alarms are really making my head hurt. I can’t think, I can’t breathe!”

Steve, Steve, Steve... why did that name ring a bell? “I’ll tell you what Steve, let go one of the hostages and you’ll have your peace.”

Then the phone disconnected and Hopper stared at the phone in his hand in horror. “Well shit.”

~

Tag List: ELEVEN SLOTS REMAINING

1- @after-the-end-times @lost-andstill-lost @zerokrox-blog @carlyv @maya-custodios-dionach

2- @yikes-a-bee @swimmingbirdrunningrock @sadisticaltarts @gloomysoup @gregre369

3- @wonderland-girl143-blog @kultiras @val-from-lawrence @dolphincliffs @dust-in-the-internet

4- @bookworm0690 @emeraldzephyr @dreamercec @awkwardgravity1 @micheledawn1975

5- @stedestielfrattficlover @useless-nb-bisexual @rina777 @mentallyundone @kroymu09

6- @counting-dollars-counting-stars @ravenfrog @steddieislife @stripey82 @beelze-the-bubkiss

7- @samsoble @mensch-anthropos-human @ollieolive @blackpanzy @disrespectedgoatman

"Eddie, I don't have a choice. There's literally nothing from you! You're doing no work! Where's the beef? Not here, not from you."

Eddie laughs. Steve's funny. In a dorky way. 

"You can't fire me," Eddie says again, playing with him, just a little. He's gotten to know Steve, and has liked him a lot.

"I am, and I will. You are fired," Steve says, but doesn't seem all that sure about it.

Eddie finally smiles, "Steve. I don't work here. I've never worked here. I'm here for the free cake and good conversation."

Steve's brow creases, confusion coloring his features, "No. That's not. I put you at that desk."

Eddie nods. Yep. He definitely did that.

"You were a temp?" Steve says, voice lilting up as though he's unsure.

"Yeah, just not for you," Eddie answers, pointing to the other side of the building, "I was a temp over there, and you guys were having donuts, and I wanted donuts, and then I had a desk. It's a nice desk."

"Am I even paying you?"

Eddie shakes his head.

"Then, what do you do for work?" Steve asks, "You're here every damn day."

Eddie laughs, "I'm a musician. At night. And I'm not always here. Just Fridays. Some Tuesdays."

Steve laughs at that, running his hand down his face. Clearly exasperated.

Then, he stands, walking towards his office door, closing it with a heavy snick.

Eddie stands, too. It was just a joke. He'll pay for the cake if that's what it takes. As long as Steve doesn't call the cops. As long as he isn't trespassed and arrested.

As long as Steve isn't really mad at him.

"I didn't mean to upset you," Eddie says in a rush. "I'm sorry. I like you. I didn't mean to keep coming in."

Steve stalks towards him. Eddie keeps talking.

"I pretended I worked in the field four days a week. Then, I'd come in here, enjoy casual Friday and eat whatever the employee snack of the week was. Steve. I'm sorry."

Steve places a hand in the center of Eddie's chest. Fisting his casual Friday t-shirt.

"Eddie Munson," Steve says, then furrows his brow, "You are Eddie Munson, right?"

"I am, I've never lied about anything else, and technically I didn't even say that. You did. You gave me a desk and I just took it. I liked you, and you had donuts, so I went along."

Steve laughs, and it sounds a little unhinged. 

"Do you know that you've driven me crazy?" Steve asks.

"What—?"

He's kissed. Well and fully kissed, and Eddie leans into it. Hands finding Steve's back, pulling him closer. Kissing him, or being kissed, Eddie can't be sure which. But he likes it. He likes Steve. Steve's the reason Eddie kept coming back, because Eddie loves seeing Steve every Friday.

He'd help him run the copier, or volunteer to go with him to pick up the donuts or cake. Pizza. Tacos. Bagels. They've had everything.

And he's had fun. So much fun. 

Steve pulls back, licking his lips, eyes looking a little wild, "Do you have any idea how long I wanted to do that? But I couldn't. Because you worked here, Eddie."

Eddie gives him a sheepish smile.

But Steve shakes his head, "All this time. All this time I could have asked if you wanted to go out for a drink. Or dinner. Anything. But I didn't. Because it would have been inappropriate."

"I'm sorry," Eddie says, because he never thought Steve liked him like that. Eddie had a crush. But what's new? Eddie always has a crush on people he shouldn't. And sure, Steve was nice and friendly while Eddie flirted shamelessly, but Eddie never thought he had a chance. Not even once, or he'd…

"Just," Steve says, looking exhausted, "Do you want to get a fucking drink?"

Eddie laughs, guffaws actually, nodding. "I'd love that."

"Well, good. Now, are you gonna go with me to pick up the build your own sundae bar?"

"Absolutely," Eddie confirms, bowing, holding out his arm for Steve to go first.

"And then you'll tell all your co-workers what you've been doing?" 

"Uh," Eddie says, sheepish, "I'm pretty sure they already know."

Steve shakes his head, but huffs out a laugh.

Before

Eddie sees the donuts being carried in. Box after white box. 

And well, Eddie wants a donut. So, he follows the handsome man in the suit into the meeting room, and takes a seat along the window. Out of the way. Hoping to go unnoticed.

Eddie gets his donut. And then a second, but when he tries to sneak away, he's caught.

"Steve Harrington, CEO," Steve Harrington, CEO says. 

Eddie nods.

"Eddie. Eddie Munson," Eddie offers.

"Welcome, Eddie. It's always nice to see a new face. Do you have a desk yet?"

Eddie shakes his head. He most certainly does not.

"Well, let me find you one."

If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @corrodedcoffinfest and follow along with the fun! 🦇

Coaches Olsen and Myers, the basketball and swim coaches respectively, were told it was Steve, but given leeway on if they wanted to kick him off the team or not.

Coach Olsen decided to put Steve on the second string for the most part, except for one particular game. The one the scouts would be at. They were told Steve was put on the bench due to the death of his mother. Something the scouts ate up. They loved a good sob story.

Coach Myers on the other hand merely gave him a co-captain to help Steve balance his grief and captain duties.

Steve felt just such an outpouring of support from both of his coaches, he just wanted to cry. When he asked them why, Coach Myers just smiled and said that sometimes people get dealt a shit hand when it comes to their parents. They don’t get to decide that, so kicking Steve off the team for having shit mom didn’t feel right to him.

Coach Olsen on the other hand steered Steve into his office and sat him down.

“What I’m about to say is to remain between us, okay?” he told Steve once they sat down. Steve nodded. “Right, so my wife, Maria is the dance teacher here and her life long dream was to own her own dance studio. Well, because she would work on the musicals doing the choreography your mom left her $15k to do just that.”

Steve closed his eyes and slumped into his seat in despair. “Oh.”

“We were both there that day,” Coach Olsen continued. “We sat there throughout the whole thing and waited for you to be named for something. Even if it was just a picture of the two of you or some other memento, but it never happened. So we made the decision to help you anyway we could. I understand your dad will only pay for your schooling if you go into law?”

“Yeah,” Steve nodded. “I’m just not good at it. I took debate in middle school and I barely squeaked by with a D in that class.”

“So what do you want to do, Steve?” Coach Olsen asked. “What’s your dream?”

Steve rubbed his nose. “To be a teacher. Not–not like Miller or O’Donnell but someone who inspires. Maybe even coaching too, I just want to help kids, you know.”

“What would you teach?”

Steve straightened up as he realized that the coach was serious about wanting to know. “I was thinking history. Because I was in an AP class this year for it and I really love it. I would focus on American history because that’s what I know best, but I really like world religions too.”

He went on talking about what schools he would want to go to and who had the best programs.

Coach sat back. “Huh. Sounds like you’ve got a plan. All you need is the money and for that you need a scholarship. Let’s help you get that. What I want you to do is meet with me once week after school so we can polish up your applications and see if we can’t get you where you want to go.”

“Thank you, Coach,” he breathed. “This means a lot. Like I know my dad is just trying to look out for me because as a teacher I won’t make a lot, but I just want to make a difference not money.”

“You’ll do just fine, Steve,” Coach Olsen said with a smile. “Just fine indeed.”

~

Eddie’s knee wouldn’t stop bouncing the whole flight over.

“Doug is going to be pissed,” Jeff said with a chuckle. “We replace him and suddenly get a record deal? He must be fuming to hell.”

“I may or may not have called to gloat...” Brian said, batting his eyelashes innocently.

“Ronnie actually called and gave me her blessing to kill it for her,” Gareth said smugly.

“That’s so cool,” Jeff said, giving him a high five. “But not gonna lie, having a female drummer would have been kick ass.”

“Oh for sure,” Gareth said, nodding. “I’m just surprised that my parents are letting me do this.”

The four bandmates turned to where Mrs. Hughes was sitting with a Walkman and headphones, just knitting away.

She lifted her head and cocked it to the side. “Hmm?”

“Thanks, Mom,” Gareth said softly. “For letting me skip school to be a rockstar.”

She smiled at him, tucking the headphones around her neck. “Oh who said I was doing that? I am absolutely ‘home’ schooling you so that you can at least graduate.” She looked at all them. “That goes for the three of you as well. You’ll be grateful for it later, I promise.”

They all looked at her in shock and awe.

“Since you other three are technically adults,” she continued, “I can’t make you graduate, but I assure you, having that diploma will be worth it further down the line.”

“And the record label is just going to let you do that?” Jeff asked, tilting his head to the side.

“They actually fully endorsed it,” she said calmly. “They’ve even offered to hire a tutor while you’re in the studio. Especially since with child labor laws, Gare can only being the studio for six hours a day.”

“Oh!” Eddie cried, blinking at her in shock. “Oh shit! I hadn’t even thought about that. So since he’s got to do school during that time, we might as well join in, is that it?”

“Exactly!” Mrs. Hughes said brightly.

Jeff and Brian looked at each and then shrugged.

“I mean, what’s the harm?” Brian said with another shrug. “Like you said, we might want it for later in life and since Gare has to, it won’t hurt for us to finish high school.”

“I’m game,” Jeff agreed. “Like it might actually be kinda fun, having that one on one experience.”

Eddie on the other hand snorted. “I’ll try but I have burned out three of Hawkins greatest minds trying to teach me, so...” He half shrugged. “It’s going to be fucking pointless.”

Mrs. Hughes cocked her head to the side. “I bet I can you to get all your credits to graduate before Jeff and Brian.”

“Yeah, right,” Eddie sneered. “I bet you fail just like everyone else.”

She put down her knitting and took off her headphones and stood up. She walked over to him and said, “I’ll tell you what. If I win you have show up at whatever little graduation ceremony they have here, cap and gown and behave for once in your life.”

“And if you lose?” Eddie asked, looking up at her.

She laughed. It was a bright happy sound and it made Eddie blush. “If you make it but after Jeff and Brian, then you get to do your little stunt off flipping people off, grabbing the diploma and jumping off the stage. And if it takes until Gare graduates, then I won’t make you walk, I’ll have a small personal party with just us and your Uncle Wayne and hand you your diploma.”

He looked at her skeptically. “You promise that I’ll make it regardless?” His bottom lip quivered. He never had someone believe in him when it came to his schooling. Even Wayne had gotten to the point of despairing that Eddie would ever graduate.

“I promise,” Mrs. Hughes said sticking out her hand.

“Thanks Mrs. H.,” Eddie murmured, shaking her hand.

“Oh call me Rhiannon or Ray for short,” she said with a smile. “You all can call me that. Well all but Gare anyway.”

Gareth snorted and rolled his eyes. “Like I would call you anything but Mom.”

She patted his cheek and went to go sit back down. She put her head phones back on and rewound the tape. Then starting where she left off, went back to her knitting.

“I guess it was too much to hope for that we’d get out of school,” Brian sighed wistfully.

Rhiannon laughed, but wisely said nothing.

Eddie sat back in his seat and laid his head back on the headrest. He laced his fingers together and closed his eyes.

He thought back to the person who made this all possible. Because yeah, everyone in this plane (barring the pilots of course) got them there, but if it wasn’t for Steve he might have not had gotten this chance.

Sure an argument could be said for Steve having causing the problem in the first place. But Eddie knew Hawkins. They weren’t going to let him leave without a fight. But thanks to Steve doing the right thing, he got his chance to escape. He just hoped Steve got that same chance. He deserved it.

~

Steve couldn’t believe he was here. He looked up at the stands and could see his dad as well as a handful of college scouts.

He let out a deep shuddering breath. He could do this. He just had to make sure not to fuck up.

Coach Olsen patted him on the shoulder. “Just relax. This is just a game like any other. There is no one in those stands. Just keep your eye on the ball and we’ll get you through this alive.”

“Thanks, Coach.” He shook out his limbs. He could do this.

Then he went out there and played the best game of his life. He even sunk the game winning shot. The crowd was going wild. His fellow players were going wild. His coach was jumping up and down.

They were going to the championship game!

After he had showered and changed back into his street clothes his dad met him at the doors to the locker room with all the other parents.

He looked around but didn’t see any of the scouts. He frowned and shook his head. They were probably still going over the stats for the game. It was no big deal.

“You did great, Steve!” Charles said excitedly. “You were really on fire out there! I could see that the scouts were pretty impressed.”

Steve grinned from ear to ear. “It was really good of the coach to let me play tonight.”

“It really was,” Charles agreed. “I’ve already thanked him and sent him a nice bottle of Jack Daniels.”

“I thank him every time I see him,” Steve admitted. “He told me I can only thank him again after I get a scholarship.”

Charles laughed. “That sounds about right.” He threw his arm around Steve and started leading him to the car. “I’m taking us out to dinner to celebrate! Hell, I’m taking the whole team and their parents!”

A cheer went up and they all followed the Harringtons to Enzo’s where Charles absolutely foot the bill for everyone’s meal, including champagne for the parents and coaches.

They were laughing and celebrating into the night.

As they drove home, Steve taking the wheel because his dad had been celebrating a tad too much, Charles looked over at him.

“I’m really proud of you,” he said fondly. “I know losing your mother the way you did and finding out she didn’t love you was hard, but I really think you’re doing a good job making the best of it.” He paused for a moment. “Minor lapse in judgment aside.”

Steve snorted. “Just a little one.” He took his hands off the wheel for a brief second to put his finger and thumb really close together. “And thanks, Dad. I wouldn’t have been able to do it without you.”

“The state swim meet is in two weeks,” Charles said. “I hope you do as well then as you did tonight.”

“Even if it means not following you in your footsteps?” Steve asked, his hands tightening on the steering wheel until his knuckles went white.

Charles let out a sigh. “I really think you would be a great lawyer, Steve. You’re thinking too narrowly. You could go into family law or even anything that wouldn’t require you to be in front of a courtroom and a judge.”

“I know, Dad,” Steve said softly. “I just really think teaching is where I would really shine.”

“We’ll talk about it after the state swim trials,” he said resigned.

“Okay.”

~

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