also for WIP Weekend I would looooove an excerpt from Conflict at the Table, I am a Sucker for Steve-as-Dustinâs-adoptive-brother fics
(no rush on these btw since I did just send you two asks in a row!!)
:D this I have a bit written, so. Thank you for the asks! This takes place at Steve's last rager before the shit hits the fan.
TW: General discussion of sexual assault, as a terrible thing.
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âGot a favor to ask you,â Steve says flatly, and Eddie plants his legs on the ground, straddling the chair.Â
âIâm wrapping up,â Eddie says. âJust a few more sales and Iâll be out of your hair.â He smirks and adds âHair,â addressing Harrington and pointing at his mane, which is the only part of him that doesnât seem outright depressed.Â
âAbout that,â Steve says. He rubs his hands over his thighs, and Eddie realizes heâs out here in the freezing cold in just his jeans and short sleeved polo. âThereâs a girl here. Marjorie.â
Eddie feels his blood freeze, and itâs not just the weather. âNo,â he says sharply. He swings his leg over the chair and stands, walks right over to Harrington. He crouches down and puts his face in close. The only way to deal with these jocks is to adapt their posturing. To his own shock, he hooks a finger in the collar of Steveâs stupid shirt. Steve easily slaps it away but appears too stunned to do anything else.
âI told your friend Hagan,â Eddie says to a wide-eyed Steve. âYou want to bed a girl, use your money or your sad attempts at charm and wit. I donât dope up women so assholes like you can assault them. And anyway, arenât you and Wheeler ââ
Harrington spasms at the word assault, jumping to his feet and knocking over the end table. Great, now this dumbshit is going to argue thatâs not rape. Well, another thing the rumor mill agrees on is Harrington is shit at taking a punch. Maybe Eddie can get a quick crack at him and get the hell out of dodge.
But Harrington rounds back in on him, and he looks furious. âAre you telling meââ he looks around briefly and then lowers his voice. âAre you telling me Tommy Hagan wanted fucking knock out drops? For a girl?â
âNot just him,â Eddie mutters. He scans Steve for any sign of an attack but he doesnât see one coming. Steve turns to the pool, hands on the back of his head, then turns back to Eddie.Â
âJesus,â he says. âThank God Iâm done with that asshole. No, I only wanted to tell you â Marjorie. Nancy overheard her friends trying to convince her to try coke, and she seems pretty drunk already and â Marji shouldnât have that, alright? She has a heart defect. So if she tries to buy from you; if anyone seems like theyâre buying for her, youâre out for the night, okay?â
âWhat â how do you know she has a heart defect?â Eddie canât picture Marjorie Whomever but heâs pretty sure thatâs the kind of thing people would know about. Sheâd at least be staying out of gym class, and folks around here will destroy you over any small deviance from normalcy.Â
And how would Harrington know? Right on time, Eddie's traitorous brain supplies a number of images of Harrington making slow, tender, accommodating love to Marjorie.
âWe were friends when we were little,â Steve says. He rubs his hands across his probably chilled arms. âAnd my mom, she wasnât her nurse, but she was a nurse. She explained it to me. She was probably terrified weâd have too much fun running around and something would happen and theyâd get sued, knowing her.âÂ
Harrington makes this face that is weirdly friendly, like heâs asking Eddie to commiserate over how shitty his mom is. Like he wants Eddie to understand. Itâs unnerving, and this whole exchange has already depleted him of a bunch of nerves.Â
âAnyway. Iâm asking, Munson.â Then Steveâs eyes brighten and he reaches into his back pocket, pulling out a wallet. Thatâs kind of weird, to walk around your own house with your wallet on you, isnât it?Â
âI can cover the cost, if you want.â And Jesus Christ, Eddie lays off drinking when heâs dealing. Itâs important to keep a clear head. But he needs to be drunk for something like this. Steve Harrington being earnest, trying to protect his ex-friend and make sure Eddie is equitably compensated at the same time. What the fuck. It should improve his opinion of Steve, right?Â
âRight, youâre going to cover the cost of one girlâs worth of blow?â Eddie says. How dare he, honestly, King Steve, Lord of the Ruinous Hellscape of Hawkins and Haver of Whatever the Fuck he Wants. Trying to be Steve the Benevolent. Steve the Kind. Whatever.
âIf Iâm out, Iâm out for the whole party, Harrington,â Eddie says. He fiddles with the zipper on his jacket but itâs still done up. He wants to get out of here, and he wants Steve to know that.Â
Steve opens his wallet without missing a beat but his eyebrows scrunch down. He glances up at Eddie and rubs at his nose. âPartyâs gonna move on soon,â he says and now it sounds like heâs trying to calm a bear, or bluff at cards. âBut okay, I see your point. Howâs 75 bucks?â he asks, and he starts counting it out.
$75 is too fucking much. Thing is, Eddie could bump the price to $100 and the guy would probably pay it. Crazy that what feels like fairness these days is the simple act of not ripping someone off even more than usual.
Iâm amenable to that,â Eddie says, begrudgingly.
âThatâs a yes, right?â Steve says, a little of that smarmy humor creeping in. But he holds the cash out.
Eddie huffs and rolls his eyes, grabs the stack away from Steve. He unzips his jacket and adds it to whatâs in his inside pocket, keeping the bills in order by amount.Â
âI only had twenties, so you owe me five bucks,â Steve says with a smile like this delights him, but Eddie ignores him, extracts his coke and then feels around in his outside pockets for a joint.
âNah, Iâll just top you off,â Eddie says because he doesnât want to owe anyone anything, as a rule, if he can help it. He holds the two glassine packets out to Steve, who goes wide-eyed again and waves him away.Â
âNo, keep it. You can still sell it. I shouldnât be holding anyway.â Steve scratches the back of his neck awkwardly and nods, like thatâs the end of that. He rights the overturned end table, then starts to walk back toward the sliding glass doors to the house. Eddie stands frozen for a moment, unable to process what just happened, but he puts the drugs back in his pockets and lets out a big breath. Behind him, he hears Harrington call out.
âHey, Eddie?â Eddie turns to him, sees him in half-shadow between the lights around the pool and the shade of the house. âIf Hagan or any of those douchebags ask you something like that again, you tell me. Okay?â
âYeah, okay, Harrington,â Eddie says, and whatâs weird is he can picture it. Going to Steve. Informing on those shitheads. The idea gives him a strange, dark feeling of excitement. At last, perhaps, some justice. Steve would do it, too. Itâs not like Eddie likes the guy now or something, but he can see that.Â
âPleasure doing business with you,â he calls back. He hears the vaguest noise, like Steve has chuckled at that, and decides heâs earned another cigarette as Harrington heads back inside.
As it turns out, Eddie doesnât have to consider whether Harringtonâs parties are worth fitting into his work schedule, because Steve isnât having any more parties. The Wednesday after that pathetic Spring Fling, the news hits the Hawkins Post. By Thursday itâs picked up in the Indiana Star. Steve Harrington has filed a lawsuit against his parents for whatâs called parental emancipation.
