#harrington!reader

sweater of despair and disrespect// mike wheeler

“michael,” you laughed softly as he leaned in again to steal a few more kisses, “mike—“

mike just hummed in acknowledgement against your lips, fingers tousled through your hair gently. “mike, if steve sees us—“ your boyfriend sighed and gave you a pout. the look would have been pathetic from anyone else, but mike wheeler had mastered the sad puppy look when he was twelve— and it almost worked on you back then, too.

you shifted off the center counsel of his car and flattened your hair. “he’s not even home yet…” mike’s voice was almost a whine. “he will be. and i already had to convince him not to come pick me up because you were coming home the same day, from the same college…”

“fine. are we ever going to tell him?”

“i figured he could just be invited to the wedding.”

mike gave you an incredulous smile and you kissed him once more to placate him. you gave him a cheeky smile and slid out of the passenger seat, “i’ll leave my window unlocked. that is, if dustin and will let you leave their sight while we’re home…”

lucas and max wouldn’t be back in hawkins until monday, and you had already warned mike— and your brother— that you would have at least a full day of uninterrupted time with your best friend. you hadn’t seen max since thanksgiving and it was starting to feel like a long distance relationship.

“i’ll call you later.”

“you don’t have to—“

but mike had already shifted into gear and smiled at you innocently, “i love you!”

“wipe the lipstick off your face, wheeler!” you rolled your eyes with an amused smile as he pulled away. you grunted as you approached steve’s new place, nearly tripping over your bags. for a teacher’s salary, the house was nice. for hawkins, it was very nice.

“what the hell do you think you’re doing!?”

you nearly jumped out of your skin as a car door slammed behind you. holy shit, you hadn’t even heard him pull up.

“steve—!” you were already smiling, arms wide for the inevitable hug.

“i will get your bags! i don’t know who you think you are…”

you bit back a laugh as you buried your face against steve’s chest. your brother was the only thing in hawkins you missed. steve gave you a near bone crushing hug and you groaned.

“harrington, you’re killing me—“

steve squeezed you once more as emphasis and looked down at you with a proud smile, “god, my college girl. you’re so grown up…”

“please do not start crying, or i will start walking to dustin’s house instead.”

steve wiped away a very obvious tear and then scoffed, “i’m not going to cry. i just think it’s cruel and unfair that you chose to go to school so far away from me. alone…”

“not completely alone.”

“i do think i feel better knowing wheeler can keep an eye on you, but no one can keep an eye on you better than me.”

you rolled your eyes with a smile, “maybe no one needs to keep an eye on me… wisconsin isn’t exactly the murder capitol of the world…”

“you could get mauled by a cow.”

you hummed, considering, “or perhaps i could drown in a vat of cheese. it is a leading cause of death, i hear…”

steve’s expression faltered, eyes widening incredulously, “wait— seriously?”

“no!” you snorted, shoving him playfully, “i’m good… i’m happy. honest.”

steve finally released you fully and stepped back to finally study you, “you’re sleeping okay? none of your classes are too hard?”

you exhaled slowly, still smiling at your brother and his incessant worrying over you, “yes… and no. i’m happy. i swear.”

steve narrowed his eyes, “you meet any boys?”

you didn’t let your expression change as you sighed, “i’ve met lots of boys. it is a co-ed public college, after all.”

steve crossed his arms and raised his eyebrows.

“oh, you mean like sexually?”

at this, steve choked and immediately turned scarlet. your brother had never wanted to think about you in a relationship or doing any of the things people in relationships do.

“no— i—“ he was tugging at the collar of his shirt as if he couldn’t breathe.

you coughed out a laugh, smirking in amusement, “for a sex ed teacher, you sure are jumpy about the subject.”

“i didn’t mean— i only meant— you— boy…. boyfriend.”

you just stared at him in amusement, throughly amused that your brother hadn’t changed at all.

“are you aware that i’m twenty?”

the way his expression paled and he reached for his chest, it was evident steve had tried to forget that, “so you do…. you have a boyfriend?”

you just stared at him again, “i’m not in college to meet boys, steve. if i met some stranger that i deemed worthy of me, i would tell you. and maybe let you meet him…”

you hadn’t lied. you weren’t there to meet boys. you hadn’t met or started dating a random guy… and steve had met mike. several times.

steve pulled you in for another hug, apparently grateful and relieved that you had no boys and weren’t doing any of the things people do in relationships.

“you know you can talk to me about these things? i am a sex ed teacher. i can be very cool about these things… i’ll even buy you co—“

“please stop talking.”

steve gave you a playful smile and ruffled your hair like he knew you hated but had done done your whole life, “i’m kidding… but seriously—“ you punched him in the shoulder and he winced with a laugh, “fine, fine–“ he held his hands up innocently. his eyes looked you over once more as if still assuring himself you were one hundred percent okay. “have i seen that sweater before?”

shit.

you hated having a brother that noticed everything.

“maybe?”

yes. just not on you…

you had woken up late— mike’s arm draped over you as neither alarm clock bothered to go off. you meant to leave first thing in the morning to beat traffic, but after a late night and a particular distraction after packing up the apartment, you had blindly woken up in a panic and grabbed the nearest item of clothing— which happened to be mike’s favorite sweater— that he had been wearing last night. mike said nothing, just looked you over with a smug smirk, mentally noting that you had claimed yet another one of his articles of clothing. you shared an apartment, a bed, and a closet already, so who was mike to say a word about the oversize t-shirts and sweaters you frequently left the apartment in?

“is it new?”

“sort of…”

“did you, like, get it used?”

“yes! i did actually!”

steve just raised an eyebrow at you, silently judging your great enthusiasm over this sweater.

you sat across from steve in the same booth and same pizza place he had taken you to every friday. and for once you felt happy to be back home. steve had been asking you a thousand questions about college and wisconsin and about your classes and about friendships and dating— again.

you shifted in the booth, eyebrows lifted in amusement. “have you found someone?” steve’s mouth twitched up, “no. you know i would have told you…” you sipped your soda and smiled to yourself, “i know. i don’t think the perfect woman exists for you.”

steve snorted and you realized that came out wrong, “no— i mean no one is good enough for you.” this had him nearly tearing up again so you shoved the pizza towards him in exasperation. you decided maybe living in hawkins wouldn’t be the worst thing ever. you didn’t like the idea of living too far away from steve and knew he was unlikely he would ever leave. and mike would go wherever you went…

“do you have any plans tomorrow? i was thinking i could take you to the new book store. and maybe some of the… used clothes stores… and a movie?”

you smiled softly at steve, “you’re spoiling me.”

steve just smiled, shrugging, “i miss you. i should have done things more with you when we were younger.”

“steve…”

“no, i’m serious…”

“steve, you were a great brother. now you’re an amazing brother…”

“just, with our parents—“

“steve.”

if he hadn’t spent all his attention on nancy wheeler, you may never have gotten so close to mike. you had grown up with mike, but on nancy and steve date nights— or parties— you were dropped off at the wheeler’s. in a way that was ironic and that steve would hate, he was really what pushed you and mike over that line of just friends. even though neither of you acted on it until years later…

you were stretched out on steve’s spare room bed, that had been mainly fitted to your taste and most of your childhood bedroom itself. you shifted onto your back, lost in your latest fantasy book that you had just picked up for the drive back home. there was a tap on the window and you jumped. you glanced over your book and almost gasped. mike wheeler was knelt on the roof, smiling devilishly. you stumbled to your feet, rushing over to open the window, “are you insane!?” you whisper snapped, though you couldn’t hide your smile.

“hello to you too.”

mike was smirking as he climbed through your window, kissing you before you could scold him or caution him to get the hell out of here.

“mike!”

“relax… your protective older brother is asleep. he’s getting old as a teacher.”

you scoffed, “you’re very confident.”

“i just miss my girlfriend… she isn’t in bed with me like she should be.”

“mike wheeler, you are insane if you think you’re sleeping here.”

“relax,” another kiss— then a few more, “i’m here for my sweater.”

but he shuffled towards the bed, pushing you gently as his hands wrapped around you.

“mike…” you tone was warning, trying to remind yourself that he was your secret boyfriend as his lips tugged against yours and down your neck.

“just here for my sweater…” he pulled away from you, smirking wickedly as he took you in.

you wore his beyond well-loved star wars t-shirt and nothing else. you normally slept in some form of his clothing, usually wrapped around him— sometimes in nothing–

“thief.”

you smiled innocently, shrugging once before giving him a quick kiss so all was forgiven. but mike was smirking, eyes locked on you, expression softening, “it looks better on you.”

you crossed your arms with an amused smile, passing him his sweater as he mumbled something about it looking better on the floor.

“goodnight, michael…”

mike stole one last kiss, giving you those sad puppy eyes that always worked.

“my brother will murder you. if steve finds you in the morning in bed with me—“

mike winced, holding his hands up in surrender, “alright. alright… i will go. not because i’m scared of steve—“ another quick kiss, “but because you told me to.”

you lifted a playful eyebrow and hummed, “goodnight, wheeler.”

mike tossed his sweater over his shoulder, smirking at you softly. he climbed back through your window and glanced back at you, expression still just as soft, “goodnight, harrington. i love you.”

you smiled to yourself, shaking your head in disbelief, “i love you too, idiot.” he pouted until you kissed him again and you eyed him in exasperation as he started climbing down the roof. mike stopped just once more, shifting his sweater further up his shoulders, “you’re beautiful, harrington.”

you would have scoffed if you weren’t so goddamn in love with him, “you’re pathetic, wheeler.”

three days later, you’re perched on the couch, max beside you, both lost in conversation and only half paying attention to the tb. “so, like,” max shifts, “have you told your brother?” you snort, “about mike?”

“obviously…” max freezes, eyes widening, “is there something else you need to tell him..?” her eyes drop instinctively to your stomach.

“no!” you huff, “god, no… there’s none of that.”

max raised her eyebrows at you, unbelieving and about to point out that that was a bald faced lie.

“okay, you know what i mean! shit, max, you’re acting like dustin.”

max smiled innocently, “and does dustin know yet?”

the fact that one of your closest friends still didn’t know about your and mike’s four year relationship didn’t sit well with you. but dustin was best friends with your brother— and saw steve more often than you did— and would inevitably tell him everything.

“no…”

“seriously?!”

“max!” you groaned, “i don’t think you realize just how much steve would freak out.”

“no, i know. i would pay to see it.”

the door opened and you were frantically sushing her. but it wasn’t steve that walked through the front door, it was lucas and mike.

“oh good, the boyfriends!” max glanced at you with an amused smile.

you eyed mike skeptically, though you always smiled when you saw him, “the boyfriends that did not listen to our interrupted girl time…”

mike winced as he leaned in to kiss you, “right.” another kiss, “you won’t even know we’re here.”

you both highly doubted that. you just rolled your eyes, exchanging an incredulous smile with max.

“we made cookies. you idiots can sample them if you want. but don’t eat all of them, some of them are for steve’s little league—“

“you mean coach harrington?” mike was relentless about your brother and his gigs.

lucas snorted, “sex ed teacher harrington?”

you rolled your eyes and rubbed your face, wondering when that would stop being a topic of relentless teasing, “would you two stop?”

“wheeler, i bet he can give you some—“

“hey..?” steve had walked into the kitchen at the sound of voices, “sinclair! wheeler! max—“ steve pulled max into a hug.

mike gave you an innocent smile, “hey, it’s coach harrington!”

you groaned to yourself, sighing again.

steve moved to properly greet mike. he froze. eyes locked on what he was wearing. the sweater…

the sweater.

shit.

oh, shit.

steve stared at mike for a solid ten seconds without saying anything. mike had pulled his hand away, taking a voluntary step back, expression turning to one of concern. you felt your chest constrict, breathing deeply to not let your pulse jump.

steve harrington was not an idiot.

but maybe just this once, he would be…

steve’s eyes snapped to you and you flinched. he looked back at mike, eyes narrowing. mike took another step back, now realizing the problem.

“it was wheeler’s sweater…”

mike paled slightly, but he still smirked.

“oh shit..” max muttered behind you, slowly dragging lucas out of the kitchen and away from the inevitable time bomb that was steve harrington.

“how long?”

mike’s smirk remained, shrugging innocently, “how long what? how long has she taken my clothes? i don’t know, probably since we’ve known each other.”

“what? can’t friends borrow each other’s clothes?”

but steve looked at you and you winced. you wouldn’t lie to him. historically, you never lied.

“i was going to tell you…”

you couldn’t read steve’s expression. you weren’t sure if he was furious or betrayed or terrified or if mike should start running.

“oh really? when? after you moved in together? after the wedding?” steve’s voice shook and you still weren’t sure if it was anger or sadness.

“well… actually…” you shot mike a warning look. it was still a marvel that he wasn’t afraid of your brother…

“you got married!?”

you swore under your breath, “no! steve—”

you stepped in between he and mike now, hand on his chest so he didn’t pass out or commit a felony after what you were about to say.

“we do…live together...actually…”

“what!?”

mike had taken several steps back, fighting back a laugh at the shade of red that steve’s face had become.

“you’re what!? wheeler—“

mike, either with a death wish or an entirely too big ego, just put his arm around you and grinned, “relax, steve… it’s not just, like, we hook up every night. we’ve been together four years now and i think you should appreciate that. and we’re always safe and—“

steve lunged forward and mike took a single step back, smirking, “now, is that any way to treat your dear sisters’s boyfriend? honestly, harrington, i could be some total stranger just with her for her hot body.”

“stop talking.” you hissed in mike’s ear but he just continued smirking.

“i mean, don’t you think you should be thankful? i’ve known her her entire life—“

steve opened his mouth but mike held up a hand, “i’ve loved her her entire life. and i have hung out with you entirely too much, so don’t you think i’ve learned everything i know about girls from you?”

this meant both of two things— one, steve had always put you first and made sure you were taken care of, which mike always did; two, everything was overly physical with steve and he had a tendency to ramble on about the kissing and other things, which mike was also rather good at…

“i—“ steve was still fuming, eyes darting between the two of you with betrayal and anger.

“wheeler—“

“steve…” your voice was calm despite the brief urge you had to strangle your boyfriend, “don’t kill mike.”

steve looked at you, eyes softening only briefly, jaw still tense, eyes narrowing again at mike, “but he—“

“steve….” your tone shifted to more pleading and only slightly scolding. you crossed your arms, “i told you i’m happy.” you glanced at mike briefly, “really, really happy…”

steve’s jaw was still clenched and you swore he was having to remind himself to breathe. he looked at mike again. his lip twitched. he looked back at you, then again at mike. his eyes landed on you once more and softened.

steve’s attention zeroed in on mike again and he addressed you without looking away from mike, who was still smug and not about to back down, “go outside…”

“i’m sorry?”

oh, god here he goes…

“outside. now.”

“oh, god,” you sighed and mumbled under your breath, “please don’t kill my boyfriend…”

steve mumbled something back that you couldn’t quite make out. as you glanced back, mike was giving you a smirk that said he regretted nothing, before turning back to steve with his arms crossed, eyeing him expectantly. steve had his hands on his hips, with that same look he gave all of you as he scolded and lectured and told all of you to be nothing like him. you fought back your laugh until you were outside.

mike turned to steve expectantly, very much trying to fight away the amusement on his face.

“alright, wheeler. listen very closely.”

“yes, mister harrington...” mike droned, but he didn’t take his eyes off steve as he started pacing.

“i understand why you kept this a secret. okay? i understand why you didn’t tell me… however, i have a lot of things i would like to say— that i won’t.” steve glanced up and stared at mike incredulously.

mike stood with his hand up, staring at steve with a blank but mildly interested expression.

“what?” steve snapped, eyeing him.

“will this be on the test?”

steve clenched his jaw, staring at mike like he was considering the pros and cons of strangling him.

mike smiled innocently.

“yes, wheeler. it will be on the test. and this will be the most important test you ever take. and i will grade it and expect you to get everything right.”

mike just nodded, shifting awkwardly and digging through a drawer. steve watched him, feeling irritation slowly boil into rage. mike pulled out a pencil and a notepad and steve’s eye twitched.

“what are you doing?”

“taking notes.”

steve let out every curse he knew in a string of words, under his breath.

“alright, wheeler. i know why she picked you. and hell, it isn’t even that surprising to me… but i don’t like you right now. i don’t like how you handled this and i don’t appreciate you— are you seriously fucking writing this down?”

mike didn’t even glance up, “i intend to pass the test.” really, he was doodling a sketch of steve with his hands on his hips, talking crossly in front of a white board, where sex was written and then crossed out with an x.

steve swore again, rubbing his face to try and find any tiny bit of calm he had left, “i don’t hate that it’s you, alright? i know you enough to know— will you please stop writing!”

mike glanced up with a smirk, setting the pencil and notebook face down on his lap, now listening intently.

“i know you won’t hurt her. i know you’re even….” steve winced, “good for her. the fact is, she’s twenty now, which means she can make her own decisions and now has to be considered an adult. which is why i won’t kill you, and why i am being much more laid back about this than i want to be.”

this was laid back?

“because i know she loves you. i know you love her— shit, it’s obvious that you always have— as for living together and— and— the other… the other….”

“shit, you teach it and you can’t even say it?”

“wheeler—“ steve pulled himself together again, “i know if i talk to her she will just roll her eyes and probably cover her ears and likely call me expletives.”

“and i won’t?”

steve muttered a few more curses and clenched his fists, imagining that mike’s head was between them. steve had an entire speech but mike was too much of a little shit to hear all of it, “if you get her pregnant—“

mike just lifted his eyebrows, silently amazed that steve could even verbalize such a possibility, let alone let it exist in his head.

“i will kill you. mark my words, wheeler, they will not find you.”

mike was scribbling again, nodding and mouthing along silently, “got it.” he raised his hand again and mike could tell steve greatly longed for a drink.

“what?” it was more of a growl than an actual acknowledgement.

“so, you would have your niece or nephew grow up without a father?”

steve’s head hit the kitchen island, groaning as he collapsed in a heap, “just get out, wheeler…”

mike had actually broken steve harrington. king of hawkins, girlfriend’s infamous older brother and well known guard dog. mike smirked, standing up and tearing his doodle out of the notebook. he slid it under steve’s arm and sighed, “i hope i passed the test…”

“well?” you shifted off the hood of steve’s car and eyed mike expectantly, “did he give you a big brother talk? oh god— did he give you the talk? are you dead? did he threaten you and show violent tendencies?”

mike shrugged, smiling innocently, as he pulled you under his arm and kissed you, “we have nothing to worry about. steve harrington absolutely loves me…”

“Not home yet, he took some girl out.” You shrug. “You can wait for him. It’s just me here.”

Eddie takes a moment to reply, tearing his gaze away from your figure. He clears his throat and stumbles out an “Okay, sure...”

You practically dance past him into the kitchen, tying back your hair as you resume searching for ingredients. Eddie follows wordlessly, observing as you work. 

You’re working from memory, he realizes. No recipe card is present on the countertop, and he occasionally catches you staring into space as you mentally recount the recipe. Something about this endears him, he wonders how often you make this recipe to have memorized it. 

“Want to help?” You ask, breaking Eddie out of his thoughts. He nods wordlessly. “We need a cup of sugar.” You hand him a measuring cup and point to a cabinet just out of your reach, before returning to cracking eggs.

Eddie reaches over you to retrieve the sugar, one hand on the edge of the counter right by your hip and the other opening the cabinet door. As his chest presses against your back, his smell surrounds you. Mostly cologne and weed but something deeper, something that’s just Eddie. For just a moment you relax into him, letting the warmth of his chest against your back wash over you. 

All too soon, Eddie is stepping away from you with the bag of sugar in hand. You’d almost forgotten the entire reason he was so close to you.

The ingredients needed to be mixed in a certain order, something you were very particular about. To you, this wasn’t just baking. This was science. You carefully mixed and measured out the dry ingredients, then wet. Eddie watched in amusement as you swatted his hand away from a mixing bowl, directing him instead to the cutting board and fancy chocolate bar to his right. 

“Chop that for me?” You request, smiling up at him. He nods and reaches for a knife, but you stop him before he can get to work. “Wait- you need to wash your hands and put your hair up!”

Eddie lets out a laugh as he begins washing his hands, shaking his head. “My hair?”

“Listen, Munson. I don’t know if you mind finding hair in your cookies, but I certainly do.” 

Before Eddie can reply, he turns to see you pulling a scrunchie from your wrist. You place your hands on his shoulders and turn him to face away from you before threading your fingers through his hair. You gather his curls gently, he notices– careful not to pull. Not that he’d mind, he thinks. You hum quietly to yourself as you finish, his hair now in a bun.

Eddie dutifully chops up the chocolate, but not without questioning why you didn’t just use chocolate chips.

“It’s part of my secret recipe.” You grin, and he feels something tug at his heart.

Another part of your secret recipe, Eddie soon learns, is that the cookie dough has to chill for an hour before you can bake them. Eddie groans when you break the news, some complaint about you torturing him dying on his lips when he glances up to see you bent over, placing the mixing bowl in the fridge. He barely registers your explanation. Something about the texture of the cookies coming out better. It doesn’t matter.

He finds that an hour can pass in the blink of an eye when it’s spent talking with you. He could probably wait a year for those cookies if it meant he could spend it listening to your voice.

By the time the cookies make it into the oven, idle conversation has shifted into laughter and playful flirting. Eddie is deep in a retelling of some story that took place during his last concert, barely able to keep hold of his train of thought because you’re resting your chin in your hand, staring up at him with probably the softest, widest eyes he’s ever seen.

Eddie reaches back and pulls the borrowed pink scrunchie from his hair. Instead of offering it back to you, he slips it around his wrist and continues his story. Now it’s your turn to be distracted. Something about Eddie letting down his hair, something about the sight of your soft pink scrunchie on his wrist alongside the spiky cuffs and chain bracelets, just fills you with butterflies. You find yourself hoping he forgets to give it back.

“-and you can’t tell Steve I told you this, he’d absolutely kill me. But when that chick gave him her number he turned bright red and started stuttering so hard he couldn’t even get a sentence out before she walked away.” Eddie laughs, and you find yourself giggling along, more at the infectious quality of his laughter than at the idea of your brother being made mute by some metalhead girl.

“I don’t think I can picture Steve like that, honestly.” You muse, struggling to imagine your brother being anything but cool and collected during an attempted pick-up.

“Well, every guy gets like that sometimes. Even King Steve.” Eddie references the nickname Steve had earned early on in high school. “I think if I’d met you at one of my shows, I’d be a stuttering mess too.”

You blush at this, surprised at Eddie’s admission that you could make him nervous. Before you have to think of a reply, the oven timer goes off, and you leap out of your chair. “Cookies! Uh, the cookies are done.”

You remove the tray from the oven, setting it on a potholder on the counter. Eddie attempts to sidestep you, reaching out for a cookie.

“Nuh-uh. Not yet, mister. They have to cool first.” You insist. Eddie shakes his head.

“But whyyyy? They’re better warm.” He fake whines as he steps closer, still trying to fight his way to the cookies.

“Just give it a couple minutes, Munson.” You laugh. “They’ll still be warm enough. You’ll burn your hands on them right now.”

“No can do, sweetheart. I helped make them. Think of it as my fee.”

You position yourself directly between Eddie and the counter, but Eddie is undeterred. He places one hand on the countertop and leans in even closer, reaching around your other side. You place your hands on his chest, giggling and half-trying to hold him back. Eddie is so close you can smell him once more, can feel the heat of his skin through his shirt. His chest is surprisingly solid under your hands. You’re practically nose to nose. At this point, Eddie isn’t even reaching for the cookies anymore, just trapping you between himself and the counter, breathing you in. Eddie stares down at your lips, curled into a grin as you tilt your face up towards him. He leans forward slightly, as if testing whether you’d pull away.

A slight movement in your peripheral vision makes your head turn, and you see Steve rounding the corner into the kitchen. You gasp, pushing Eddie away and taking a step back yourself.

Steve doesn’t know what he just walked in on, but he is almost certain he doesn’t like it. He glances between you and Eddie for another moment before he greets you and takes a cookie off the tray, motioning for Eddie to follow him.

Eddie follows, but not before taking a cookie for himself and glancing back at you one last time. His expression is impossible to read. For a moment, you think he looks like a child who’s been caught doing something he knows he shouldn’t.

In Steve’s room, Eddie launches into an explanation before Steve can even ask questions. “I came looking for you and Y/N said you were out and told me to just wait here for you. She asked if I wanted to help with the cookies, so I did and then I was reaching for one and she said I had to wait for them to cool off, and we were just messing around.” Eddie nearly trips over his words while rushing out his explanation.

Steve thinks for a moment before replying. “Yeah, good. Because from my angle, it looked a lot like you were about to kiss my sister.”

Eddie stutters a bit, cheeks flushing slightly, and Steve nods knowingly. He was right. He lets it go for now, but makes a mental note to keep an eye on Eddie around you from now on.

Later, Steve finds you in your room. Tucked into your bay window, book long forgotten on your lap in favor of staring outside. It was raining lightly, and you’d spent the last hour or so lost in thought as you watched the raindrops race each other down the glass. Steve clears his throat, announcing his presence before crossing the threshold. He takes a seat at your desk and thinks for a long moment before speaking carefully. 

“So. Eddie..” He starts, and your eyes grow wide. 

“It wasn’t what it looked like, Steve. We were just messing around.”

Steve scoffs. “Yeah, Eddie messes around with plenty of girls. I don’t need you getting caught up with him.”

You huff, rolling your eyes and turning back towards the window. “Nothing happened.” You insist, then your voice becomes small. “Nothing will happen..”

Steve notes the disappointment in your voice. It was clear to him that you had some sort of feelings for Eddie. But that just couldn’t happen. Not with how much Steve knows about how his friend is with girls.

“You’re a big girl, I’m not here to make decisions for you.” Steve started, causing you to look at him once more. A glimmer of hope in your eyes is quickly dimmed when he continues. “Just... There are better decisions to make. That’s all.”

Steve stands, ready to leave the room when you stop him. 

“I know about him. I’m not a-” You cut yourself off. “I’m not one of those girls.”

“It’s not about being one of ‘those girls’, Y/N. Eddie’s a good friend, but he hasn’t exactly been a great boyfriend in the past. I just don’t want to see you hurt.” It's a little unfair, honestly. Sure, Eddie got around a bit, but so did Steve. His worst behavior as a boyfriend was petty shit. He wasn't a cheater, didn't hurt his ex-girlfriends physically. He was just kind of a slut and had a habit of moving on too fast. Still, Steve had high standards for you. It was part of his job as your older brother. Eddie's a good guy, but you deserve better than good. In Steve's eyes, anything less than perfection was just not good enough for you.

You cross your arms, turning to stare out the window once more. Steve takes the hint and gets up to leave, closing the bedroom door gently behind him. He pretends not to notice the sound of the lock clicking as he retreats towards the stairs.

Steve thinks he may have gone a little too hard trying to get through to you. Before, when Eddie came over you would poke your head into the living room and ask what movie they’re watching. You’d make conversation, offer them a snack if you were making something for yourself. Sometimes you’d plead with Steve to let you tag along to a party with them. Rarely, very rarely, you'd make a good enough argument that Steve would agree to let you go.

Since your conversation about Eddie, Steve has barely seen you speak to him. You shut yourself in your room when he comes over. You lower your gaze and avoid most of his attempts at conversation. It’s like you’re suddenly allergic to him.

If Eddie notices the change, he doesn’t comment on it. Steve thinks this is odd, but he figures he must have been wrong about Eddie feeling anything towards you if he’s so unbothered about being ignored.

One night, Steve has a date. He’s out for a few hours, and with your parents out of town again, you’re at home alone. He drops his date off around 10:30 and decides to take a different route home than he usually does.

Steve is lost in thought as he drives through the quiet streets of Hawkins. He’s wondering whether you’ve already made yourself dinner, considering asking if you want to order a pizza and watch a movie. Around the corner from the Harrington household, Steve sees something that makes him slam on the brakes.

Eddie Munson’s van is parked on the side of the road. Just out of sight of the house. Perfectly positioned so that Steve would never have seen it if he’d taken his usual route. Steve speeds the remaining block home, practically drifting into the driveway and slamming his way out of the car and into the house.

Downstairs is empty, so he stomps his way up the stairs. You’re stepping out of your room as he approaches, eyebrows furrowed in concern at his frantic demeanor.

“Steve?” You say carefully.

“Where is he?” Steve demands, shoving his way past you into your bedroom. The window is open, sheer curtains moving softly in the breeze. Steve leans out the window, scanning the surroundings for any sign of Eddie making his escape.

“Where is who?” You ask. Steve scoffs, doesn’t believe for a second that you don’t know exactly who he’s talking about.

“His van is parked around the corner, Y/N, don’t fucking play dumb. Where is Munson?”  He presses as he kneels on the floor, lowering himself to check under your bed. He’s had to hide from enough angry fathers and older brothers that he knows all the usual spots. He knows Eddie well enough to know that he does as well.

“Jesus Christ, Steve, I don’t know! He’s your friend.” You groan, irritation written across your face. You lean against your closet door, arms crossed as you watch Steve give the room another once-over.

Steve deflates a little. Maybe he was wrong? Maybe Eddie was just in the area, Steve knows he deals to a couple of his neighbors. He runs a hand over his face, preparing to apologize, when he notices something. Since the moment you followed Steve into the room, you’ve been leaning against your closet door. You don’t exactly look irritated anymore. You look on edge. Like you’re guarding something. Your arms are crossed over your chest, but your fingers fidget with the hem of your t-shirt sleeve. You’re anxious.

Then, Steve notices something else. The T-shirt you’re wearing hangs off you, a few sizes too big. You uncross your arms, and the bright red logo hits him like a slap in the face. You’re wearing Eddie Munson’s fucking Slayer shirt- the same one he’d been wearing just last week.

“Who’s in the closet, Y/N?” Steve asks, fighting to keep his voice even. Your face goes pale, eyes wide as you stutter out a response.

“What- what are you talking about?” You press your back harder against the closet door.

Steve can feel anger building inside him, a white-hot feeling coiling in his chest. He’s going to kill Eddie.

“Munson, either you come out now or I’m coming in there and kicking your ass.” Steve raises his voice slightly. He waits five seconds, then ten. He begins to consider that he really was wrong, Eddie isn’t here.

Then the closet door clicks open. You step to the side as Eddie emerges, looking like a man who’s just received a death sentence. You look about the same.

Wordlessly, Steve grabs Eddie by the collar of his shirt, practically dragging him down the stairs. You follow frantically, rushing out half-explanations and half-apologies. Steve can barely hear you over the sound of blood rushing in his ears. Eddie, to his credit, knows better than to say a fucking word right now.

Steve manhandles Eddie all the way into the living room, shoving him on the chest hard enough to make him stumble a couple steps backwards. You follow the pair, unsure what to do but fairly certain that you’re about to witness a murder.

“Explain yourself.” Steve instructs.

“Listen, man. First of all, nothing happened-”

“Bullshit. She’s wearing your goddamn shirt, Munson!” Steve interrupts.

“I know, I know, but I swear to God. It isn’t like that.” Eddie insists. “She called me earlier. I shouldn’t have come but she said you’d be out and invited me to keep her company.”

“She called you?” Steve questions.

“I did.” You answer for Eddie, approaching to stand between the two men. “And I told him to hide in the closet.”

“What the fuck, Y/N?” Steve sounds more hurt than angry now. Eddie going behind his back was one thing, he could kick his ass, and they’d be over it in a couple of weeks most likely. But his little sister? That stung.

“I ran into Eddie last week and he asked if I was avoiding him because he did something wrong. I called him that night to explain, and then we just… kept calling. I invited him over tonight so I could see him.”

“And the shirt?”

You shrug. “He left it last time he crashed here. I found it in the laundry and when I tried to give it back, he said to keep it.”

Steve sighs heavily, practically collapsing onto the couch. He runs his hands through his hair and glances back up at you and Eddie.

“So, you didn’t..” He trails off, unable to even ask the question.

“God, no.” You answer quickly. “I was trying to convince him to watch Suspiria with me when you got home.”

Steve nods, shoulders sagging with relief. After a moment, Eddie clears his throat to catch Steve’s attention. “So,” He begins, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. “You still gonna kick my ass, or are we good?”

Steve barks out a laugh at this, shaking his head slightly. “Go home, Eddie. Come back tomorrow and we’ll have a nice long talk about your intentions with my sister.”

You walk Eddie to the door, burying your face in the crook of his neck and breathing him in as he wraps his arms around you. He presses a kiss to the top of your head, murmuring a soft “See you tomorrow, sweetheart.” Into your hair.

Then he’s gone, and Steve is leaning against the back of the couch with his arms crossed. He sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose before looking at you once more. “You hid him in your closet, Y/N?” He laughs.

“I thought you were gonna kill him!” You defend yourself, stifling your own laugh.

“Oh, I was.” Steve confirms, shaking his head in disbelief. “Just don’t ever let me catch him climbing in through your window.”

You nod obediently, but Steve knows all you took from that statement was ‘don’t get caught’. He’ll cross that bridge when he gets to it, he thinks as he reaches for the landline. “So. Pizza and a movie?”

Note: As I said in the beginning, this isn't my best work, but I really wanted to get it uploaded tonight! Let me know your thoughts and if y'all would be interested in a pt. 2!