Abyssal Beach

rated T | written for the @steddiemicrofic prompt ‘three’ + 333 words | slice of life, injury, being goofballs as always

—

Three. That’s how many front teeth Eddie knocks out of his head trying to pull off some boneheaded trick at the skate park. “Owwwww,” he whines pitifully from the back seat of Steve’s car where he’s got his head in Robin’s lap, the sound muffled behind a bag of frozen peas pressed to his mouth.

“Yeah, well,” Steve says, stepping harder on the gas. Eddie’s teeth are in his pocket. “That’s what you get for trying to impress a little girl.”

“Excuse you,” Max glares from the passenger seat. “I’m fifteen tomorrow.”

“You’re a baby.”

“I have tits!”

“Ew.” Steve doesn’t want to think about her tits, for god’s sake.

“Steve,” Robin chides, adjusting Eddie in her lap as they round the last corner into town. “Don’t body shame.”

Max ignores her. “Whatever.” She rolls her eyes and crosses her arms. “It wasn’t even impressive.”

“Hey!!” Eddie sits up; takes the bag off his mouth to protest; ends up spraying blood across the roof of Steve’s car as they go over a speed bump. Goddammit. Goddammit, he’s lucky Steve would do anything for him.

Steve scowls at him in the rearview and pulls up to the dentist’s office. “You’re cleaning that up.”

—

They get Eddie in to see the dentist surprisingly quickly.

Steve goes back with him, hangs out at the edge of the exam room and horrifies the assistant when he fishes three teeth roots-and-all out of the blood-stained front pocket of his jeans. Eddie’s all loopy on laughing gas so they can reimplant the two front teeth — “we’ll need to replace the lateral incisor” — and the whole ridiculous ordeal is kinda worth it when, at the end of the appointment, just the two of them alone in a tiny room, Eddie looks up at Steve like he hung the moon, gives him a big gap-toothed smile, and says “hey” like ‘I love you.’

He reaches out to hold Steve’s pinky. “Thanks.”

for @corrodedcoffinfest day 7 prompt 'the california raisins'

rated m | 696 words | cw: past character death, referenced serious illness, drug mentions | tags: good uncle wayne, eddie and jeff friendship, eddie's childhood

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His first lunchbox had He-Man on it. He remembers how cool he felt showing it off to everyone on the first day of school. His mom packed him his favorite ham and cheese sandwich, a bag of chips, and a soda as a treat.

And then she got sick.

Eddie didn’t realize how bad it was. He was only six. How could he know that the reason his mom stopped packing his lunches and making sure he took baths and making him dinner was because she was too sick to get out of bed?

Her hair started to fall out and she slept a lot and he had to try to make his own sandwiches for a while.

And then one day, his uncle showed up at school. His eyes were red and he tried to fake a smile and Eddie just knew.

He forgot the He-Man lunchbox when he was packing his things to move in with Wayne.

–

Wayne bought him a California Raisins lunchbox on sale at the mall the next week. It wasn’t as cool as the He-Man one, but it matched Jeff’s. He was technically supposed to be in kindergarten, but he moved up a grade a year early because he’s smart. He knows a lot about space. Eddie likes talking to him.

No one else really likes their lunchboxes, but Eddie doesn’t care.

They eat lunch together every day even though they don’t have the same teacher. They’re best friends, or at least Eddie thinks so.

He even gets to go to Jeff’s birthday party at his house and have cake and ice cream and meet his parents, who are really nice. His dad knows even more about space than Jeff. Wayne says he works for the government, but he doesn’t know what that has to do with anything. His mom is a secretary. She doesn’t have to work, but Jeff says she likes having something to do.

Eddie’s mom worked for a while. She was a waitress. She didn’t like working, but he thinks it’s because she didn’t make a lot of money, not because she was lazy like some people said.

He doesn’t think his dad ever worked a real job. He doesn’t work now. He’s in jail.

Jeff doesn’t laugh at him when he brings his lunchbox to his party. He didn’t know they would feed him sandwiches there. He just sets it on the counter and drags him outside to eat and play with all the other kids.

It’s nice.

—

When it comes time for Eddie to make some money to help Wayne out, his options are pretty limited.

The grocery store will hire him to work Friday nights and Saturdays, but by the time he pays for gas and his food, he comes out with no money to pay the bills. It’s not even worth it.

So, he finds Reefer Rick at 16 years of age and decides the life of crime is a life of profit. Well, mostly. He’ll definitely make more than Melvald’s.

He starts with a small enough amount he can just keep it in his pocket. He sells it quick. High school is a great place to sell drugs, apparently.

He has to upgrade. He pulls the California Raisin box from under a cabinet and hides the drugs there. No one gets suspicious. Who would? It’s the California Raisins.

Jeff doesn’t say much to him about it, but he knows he doesn’t approve. He just doesn’t understand. His parents give him an allowance and have plenty of money to pay the bills on time every month. They even pay for extra stuff, like sending Jeff to summer camps and his guitar lessons. Eddie’s never had spare money in his life before now, and most of that goes into savings for when his van needs work.

Eventually, he starts carrying more than just weed. Nothing too serious, but he buys a new lunchbox.

It just didn’t feel right using his childhood lunchbox anymore.

He’s grown now. He has grown up problems that require grown up solutions.

written for @steddiemicrofic | prompt: ‘three’ [title from 'past lives' - børns]

rated g | 333 words | no cw | tags: domestic bliss, existential crisis He first says it like a joke, tossed across the living room like it’s nothing more than another stupid Harrington-ism, something to make Eddie snort and call him drama queen.

“Three lives,” Steve mutters, hip-bumping the coffee table straight while sweeping guitar picks and loose change into his palm. “King, babysitter, and whatever the hell this one is.”

This apartment wears them well: laundry in limp mountains on the couch, Eddie’s favourite mug sweating on the windowsill, Dustin’s spare key hanging beside theirs in a crooked row. A grocery list on the fridge, old ink beneath the fresh scrawl where Steve kept changing his mind about who they are now, what they need. Whole milk, low-fat, lactose-free. Life one, life two, life three.

King Steve lived in mirrors, in the sheen of a car hood and the hollow clamour of parties that never felt like fun. Babysitter Steve lived in bat-splintered knuckles and Eddie’s van, in the thud of sneakers racing down cracked-open suburban streets, and in the terrifying knowledge that he loved kids who weren’t his and would kill monsters for them.

This Steve lives here, in the dip of their shared mattress under Eddie’s weight, in the three towels that hang in the bathroom - one for him, one for Eddie, one permanently stolen by Dustin when he crashes. Now-Steve lives in the click of three locks on the door each night, counted off under his breath.

“One, I’m not at my parents’ house,” he says, thumb brushing the deadbolt.

“Two. I’m not in the Upside Down.”

He hesitates on the third, palm pressed flat against wood grain.

Eddie’s voice comes from the bedroom, lazy and sure. “Three, you’re here. With me.”

Steve exhales - it feels like shedding old skin - and turns back toward the soft bedroom glow, scattered guitar magazines, a man waiting for him with his hair tied up and his heart uncluttered.

This goes for other symptoms as well: although pain can definitely contribute to people’s experiences of these symptoms, fatigue and brain fog are actual migraine symptoms, not just pain symptoms.

now go in peace

for @corrodedcoffinfest day 6 prompt 'family video'

rated t | 923 words | no cw | tags: platonic stobin, jeff is the third wheel to their platonic marriage

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Jeff hates this job so much. He really hates that he’s the youngest person working here and Keith seems to think that means he can do all the heavy lifting.

He owed Jeff’s dad a favor after he approved a business loan at the bank for him when he probably shouldn’t have. So, Jeff has a minimum wage job while all his friends are enjoying summer vacation. He’s thrilled.

Though he’s pretty glad the job at Scoops Ahoy didn’t work out. He wouldn’t have wanted to be at the mall when that fire happened.

“Need you to train the newbies tomorrow,” Keith says as he locks up for the night. “The girl will be fine, the guy is like her lost puppy. Don’t know why she bothers with him. He’s an idiot.”

Right, the new people start tomorrow.

“Anyone I might know?” Jeff asks as he looks around for his mom’s car. She’s late again, but he doesn’t mind too much. He could use some fresh air while he waits for her to get here.

“Steve Harrington and Robin something or other. She’s your age, so I guess you’re probably in classes together,” Keith hands him the key. “You’re opening and I forgot the spare. Feel free to fire Harrington if he’s too stupid to figure out how to press rewind.”

Jeff’s pretty sure even Steve can figure that out, but he doesn’t care to argue with Keith. Not when he can see the headlights of his mom’s car turning into the parking lot.

—

“And that’s really it. Any questions?”

Robin shakes her head. Steve shakes his head. Jeff thinks it’s a bit weird that Steve even needs a job, but maybe he just needs to kill some time now that he’s graduated.

There’s been rumors that his parents cut him off when he finished school and didn’t have plans to go to college, but Jeff doesn’t think it’s true. Or at least not completely.

A part of him wonders if Gareth started it just to see if it would get anywhere. He likes to do stupid shit out of boredom.

“I’m going on my lunch. Let me know if you need me.”

He hides in the office and hopes they don’t need him. Tuesdays are pretty slow, so he’d be surprised if they had more than one or two customers.

He calls Eddie to make sure they’re still on for band practice tomorrow in his garage. He calls his mom to remind her he’s off at six tonight and needs a ride. And then he manages to eat the sandwich he brought from home before there’s a knock on the door.

Robin steps in with an awkward wave and smile.

“Everything okay?” Jeff asks around a mouthful of food.

“I may have accidentally checked out some movies.”

“Oh. No big deal. I’ll show you how to fix it in a few minutes,” Jeff smiles at her reassuringly. “It’s easy.”

“Uh. Well.” Robin bounces on her feet. “I may have accidentally…checked out all of the movies.”

“Like all of the ones that were on the cart? That’s okay. Accidents happen.”

“She checked out all of the movies in the store,” Steve says as he steps in, hands settling on his hips. “I don’t know how.”

“I…didn’t know that was possible,” Jeff admits as he sets the last few bites of his sandwich back in the baggie and stands up. “Are you sure that’s what happened?”

“Yep. I tried to start checking them back in, but there’s an error,” Steve explains. He nudges Robin’s arm, letting it rest there for a moment. Jeff notices but doesn’t say anything. “I’ll fix it if you can show me how.”

Jeff shakes his head. “I don’t think this has ever happened. We might have to call—“

“No!” They both yell. Jeff raises a brow. “Please. I’m sure we can figure it out together,” Robin continues. Steve nods along next to her.

He sighs and gestures for them to go back to the counter.

The fix is actually pretty simple once he gets eyes on it. He’s kind of a computer nerd. Keith probably keeps him around for that more than the favor he owed his dad at this point. But it will take a few hours because they have to go by genre and count inventory on the shelves to make sure they don’t accidentally check something in that’s still with a customer. He leaves them to it while he handles actual customers coming in.

By the end of his shift, they’re done and everything is back to normal. Keith arrives to close and they silently agree not to speak of it at all.

The truth is, even with the problem, and expecting the worst, he had the most fun he’s ever had while working alongside Steve and Robin. They’re funny, even when they don’t mean to be. They’re nice, even though Jeff always thought Steve had a massive attitude in high school. That seems to have cleared itself up. They’re also very entertaining as a pair. He accidentally called them a couple earlier and got the dirtiest look from Robin and a very stern ‘no way, dude’ from Steve.

Written for @corrodedcoffinfest.

Strike a Deal

Prompt #6 - Family Video | Word Count: 1000 | Rating: T | CW: Recreational Drug Use | POV: Steve | Pairing: Steve & Corroded Coffin, Steddie (If You Squint) | Tags: Pre & Post S4, Family Video, Time Jump, Steve & Eddie Strike a Deal, Open Ending

January 1986

"No, no, no. No way. You already have twenty-two dollars in fees," Steve says, snatching the tape away from Eddie Munson.

"C'mon, man. What's it to you? Is it coming out of your pocket? Did your family buy Family Video?" Eddie asks, planting both of his hands on the counter, leaning towards Steve. Taunting him.

Steve holds his ground, leaning back into his face, "I know you're bootlegging them, Munson."

Eddie bites out a laugh, right in Steve's face, "Yeah right, Harrington. You think I have money for two VCRs?"

"No. I think," Steve says, spinning around, tapping on the keyboard, "Charles Goodwin has two VCR money. He owes me seventeen dollars, by the way."

"Charles? Never heard of him," Eddie says, shifting his weight back and forth. Steve knows he's got him. He's definitely on the right track.

"Oh really?" Steve asks, still tapping away. He'd linked these accounts together months ago. "How about Gareth Jones? He's up to eleven dollars. Or Jeff Williams? Four dollars."

"I'm not sure you should be giving out all this sensitive information about your customers," Eddie says, and Steve rolls his eyes.

"I'm not giving any of you any additional rentals until you pay up."

"Harrington."

Steve isn't moved. "Munson."

"Fine," Eddie huffs, and swishes around, banging the door too hard as he flounces out, in a whirlwind of hair and bad attitude.