#bewarethegrim

He knows he can't touch her himself. He may be in a crumbling, loveless marriage, but it's a marriage none the less. But what's a little controling sex toys between best friends?

When he brings it up to Mel, she's hesitant, but once Frank explains everything she agrees, it makes sense, and it's not really cheating.

Frank buys her the toy, it's a gift afterall. They pick a night when Becca is staying at her facility for them to try.

Frank has been sleeping in the spare room in his basement for months at this point, so there's no one to disturb when he calls Mel to walk her through it. To hear her moan his name into his headphones, to control her pleasure until she falls apart with a long moan, not turning the toy off until she begins to squeak with overstimulation.

It's not cheating if Frank doesn't touch himself until after the call is over, the memory of her moans pushing him to his peak faster than he thought possible at his age.

It's not cheating if Mel calls every night she can. It's not cheating when she facetimes him one day, in nothing but an oversized Pittsburgh Penguins shirt that Frank recognises as his own from his locker that had gone missing.

It's not cheating when Mel cries about how desperately she needs Langdon.

It seems like he struggles to do even the most simple tasks. Doing the dishes, sweeping, putting garbage into the garbage can. Things like that. He did them sometimes, but not nearly enough to balance the workload in the Josie.

At first he chalks it up to Steve having had a nanny or a maid his whole life. These weren't things he was ever made to do. It pisses him off to no end that he's now being made to teach his adult boyfriend how to do household chores but he doesn't blame Steve, he blames his parents.

But after two months, Steve isn't doing any better. More than once Billy had come home from work to see Steve just staring at the sink full of dishes, dish soap and drying rack ready next to him, but no dishes were cleaned.

This makes him angry. He accuses Steve of using him like he's a maid instead of his boyfriend, of acting like a child. And Steve's face just stays impassive and he says "I'm sorry. Im trying." Over and over again.

A month later, Billy comes home to Steve sitting in front of their laundry in tears.

A few trips to the doctor and a diagnosis of ADHD later, Steve finally has answers to why he struggles doing the most basic stuff.

Executive Dysfunction.

There's a disconnect between his brain and his body, almost. He wants to clean the dishes, or take out the garbage or sweep the floors, but his body just refuses to cooperate with him.

But knowing the problem gave them tools to fix it. Billy would seperate the laundry by colour, so Steve only had to put them in the washer and dryer. Billy would wash the dishes and Steve would put them away. Little things that made the tasks easier to break down in Steve's mind.

Steve doesn't let anyone touch his tail. Even when he was dating Nancy, she knew that his tail was off limits. Everyone in Hawkins knew: you don't touch Steve Harrington's tail. Tommy had, once, and he has a nice scar on his right arm to show for his efforts, and they'd been beat friends their whole lives.

Billy carries this photo in his wallet for the next 72 years, showing it off whenever possible to show people "how hot my husband was, back in our day." As Steve whines "Are you saying I'm not hot anymore?" From next to him.