#littlechivalry

"For medical reasons, not for... this!"

The scars were healing, they really were. But they still felt... weird. After Steve finally got to take off the bandages all of his shirts chafed the new skin. Even his lightest tee shirts were irritating and the urge to scratch was unbearable.

So... he stopped wearing shirts. What did it matter. It was summer and it was his house. He could be topless if he wanted to.

Except the kids kept coming over. And their parents sometimes. And Steve was starting to get a little weirded out at how many people now had a full-on view of his naked torso.

"I thought the idea was to cover my nipples, Robs. When we had the Vecna victory party I felt like a piece of meat."

"It is not my fault you have a weirdly long torso, Steven."

"My torso is normal sized," Steve said, setting his hands on his hips. "Just admit you messed up."

"We both know I'm never going to do that," Robin replied, flatly. "Besides, look at the bright side."

"What bright side?"

"Well, Karen Wheeler isn't the only one that can't keep her eyes to herself."

Steve felt the flush spread from his face down his chest and his shirt was no coverage at all.

"It's not-- like, okay he's looking but it doesn't mean anything."

Robin leaned back, dropping the scissors on the floor next to her.

"Steven, as someone who has had a front row seat to this shitshow whether I wanted it or not, he is looking and it means a lot."

The thing is -- the thing is--

Eddie.

I/Eddie./I.

The front door slammed open and Dustin thundered into the house.

"Steve, where are you?"

"We're in the living room, Dingus Junior," Robin called back.

Steve searched the room for something to cover himself up, a blanket or even a throw pillow.

Dustin walked into the room and grinned. "Nice shirt, Steve."

"Yeah, Steve," Eddie echoed. "Nice shirt."

Steve hadn't heard Eddie come in, the amount of noise Dustin brought with him everywhere enough to cover up an army.

But there Eddie was, standing in the doorway. In a croptop of his own.

"Seems like you guys had the same idea," Robin muttered. She stood up and walked past Steve, snagging Dustin by the shoulder and dragging him out of the room in her wake.

"Looking good there, Harrington," Eddie said, his long fingers playing with the edge of his shirt.

"Yeah," Steve coughed. "You, um, you do. Too." He wrapped his arms around his torso, hoping to hold the edge of his own croptop down.

In contrast Eddie raised his hands and did a slow spin. "Never imagined I'd be the type but it suits me, I think. Shows off the ink, or what's left of it."

Eddie gestured to his sides and Steve gave himself permission to look.

Their scars weren't the same, not exactly. But they had been hurt together. Had healed together.

"You doing all right, Stevie," Eddie asked, moving closer. "Looking a little flushed there."

Steve looked up sharply to see Eddie's eyes only a few inches away.

Steve felt the urge to both lean forward and pull away.

"You know," Eddie said, softly. "You'll give a guy ideas, flashing your tits like that."

Steve snorted laughter. "Shut up, Robin cut it too short."

Eddie grinned, slow and sweet. "I'll write her a thank you card, then."

Hamlet makes appearances at every stop, Eddie carrying her out like a baby while Gareth sings their new song Pepper Sun/Son. The audience loves it and she seems to enjoy the attention, squealing along with the guitars before being returned to her cozy bed backstage, a repurposed couch cushion and dog kennel dubbed 'Denmark'.

Steve's title evolves from band manager to 'animal wrangler' which encompasses his responsibility for her and the band's well-being combined.

On their days off Steve takes Eddie and Hamlet for walks. Eddie never feels more like a rock star than when he's strolling through an unfamiliar city, his pretty boyfriend on his arm and a black pig on a leash leading the way.

*

Of course there's really no such thing as a teacup pig and it feels like hardly any time passes before Hamlet is just too big to take on the road. She retires to the house Eddie bought for Wayne and enjoys a life of luxury.

Wayne never considered himself a pet person, closest he ever got to cleaning up after an animal was raising Eddie, but he likes the company. Hamlet's a damned good listener and doesn't back talk.

Steve gives Wayne an understanding nod then laughs and Eddie squawks in mock offense before hauling Hamlet into his arms, nowhere near as easy as it used to be, and carrying her off to the small barn they had built on Wayne's property.

It isnt the first time Eddie has sulked off and the barn has become his clubhouse in a sense. He keeps an acoustic and some snacks out there and the two spend a peaceful afternoon.

Eventually Eddie and Hamlet are coaxed back to the house with a beer and some raspberries respectively.

"How dare you, Eugene, I--"

"That is not my name! You know that's not my name! Rob-- Roberta!"

Steve curled tighter into his corner of the sofa as Eddie leaned over slapping idly at Robin. Her blue polish tipped fingers swung at Eddie as well, the two of them making Steve think of kittens engaged in a play fight.

Suddenly Robin lurched to her feet, one of the abandoned couch cushions in her hands to be brought down onto Eddie. "I have seen! More! Weiners! Than! You!"

Steve, startled, tumbled over the armrest and fell to the floor even as Eddie coiled up laughing under the onslaught.

"Noooo," Eddie crowed. "I give, I give! You, Robin Buckley, have seen every weiner in Hawkins!"

"Oh my god," Robin squawked. "No, that's gross. Not every weiner, like, I have not seen Hopper's weiner."

"Can we stop saying 'weiner'," Steve muttered into the worn upholstery of the couch.

"No, wait," Eddie said, struggling back into an upright sitting position. "Because I have seen Hopper's," he looked to Steve. "Dong?"

"That's not better," Steve groaned.

At the same time, Robin demanded, "When?"

"I don't know," Eddie said. "I was smoking a j in the woods and he came out to piss against a tree. I don't think he knew I was there." He paused. "I hope he didn't know I was there."

"If Hopper thought you'd seen his... y'know," Robin laughed. "He'd kill you and then kill us for knowing about it."

"Well," Eddie sniped. "You said you've seen so many... things... but how am I supposed to believe that."

Steve groaned. "Just say weiner. It's fine."

"No, no, Stephanie," Robin crooned. "We must protect your delicate sensibilities." She turned a glare on Eddie. "Now then, Edward. You were saying?"

Steve pressed his forehead into the side of the couch. The evening had been going so well. He probably wasn't sober enough to leave but maybe if he held his breath long enough he would pass out?

They threw out a few names before they agreed that Hellfire and band didn't count. Steve didn't even know some of these people. He clambered his way back onto the couch, interrupting their debate.

"Does it even matter who the weiner belongs to? I thought the whole point was who saw more of them," Steve groaned. "Even though this is stupid because I have for sure seen the most weiners."

"Sports don't count," Robin whined. "You've probably seen every weiner in Hawkins."

Steve grumbled but he couldn't argue.

Eddie lunged up from the couch, pointing at Steve and Robin accusingly. "He has not see my weiner! I don't play sports and I never dressed out for PE."

Robin leapt to her feet. "We have all seem your weiner, Eddie! You mooned Higgins at graduation and your pants fell down."

Eddie collapsed back to the couch. "Oh man, I'd hoped that was just a weird dream."

"Nope," Robin confirmed. "It wasn't the full show but it was-- there was weiner."

"'Fraid so," Steve confirmed, patting Eddie's shoulder. "But hey, hey man-- you don't have anything to worry about."

Robin looked confused. "What does that mean, dingus?"

Steve shrugged, trying to ignore how hot his face felt all of a sudden. "Just... y'know. It's good. His whole... situation."

Steve tried not to look directly at Eddie but he could see him moving and felt the couch cushions dip.

"Harrington approves of my weiner. My my, I am flattered. I would return the compliment but I'm afraid yours is one of the few weiners in this town that I haven't seen."

"It's fine," Robin said flatly. "Like if you're into that kind of thing?"

"Oh my god, Robin," Steve groaned.

"When, Buckley? When did you see Steve's junk? He used to shower in a stall. No one's seen his--"

"Were people trying to see my junk," Steve gasped. "What the hell."

Eddie waved him away. "When Buckley? Robin. My dear, dear friend. My dear good friend who wanted a stick and poke and I said no but maybe I'll change my mind."

Robin just shrugged and dropped onto the couch, finding the narrow gap between the arm and Steve and shoving him closer to the center, to Eddie.

"It was no big deal. He thought he had a--"

Fuck. Steve remembered this story.

"Nothing. I didn't have anything. It was... I had to pee and she saw it and that's fine. Thank you for sharing, Robin. Yes. I have a perfectly fine penis."

"'Penis'," Eddie repeated, a grin spreading across his face. "Awfully formal language, Stevie." He leaned forward, looking past Steve to Robin. "Is that what happened, Buckley? Did our good friend whip it out in front of you for such a crude reason?"

"Ha," Robin crowed. "He wishes!"

Now Eddie looked intrigued.

Steve shook his head and reached for the edge of the couch to pull himself up. "I'm gonna get chips, you guys want chips?"

A firm grip on his shoulder, Robin surprisingly, hauled him back down. "I've got it. You tell Eddie how I had to check you for ticks."

"Oh my god, Robin," Steve groaned.

She only laughed as she got up and walked towards the kitchen.

"Ticks?"

"It's not," Steve started. "Look, everything is normal." He could see Eddie shake his head from the corner of his eye.

"You'll forgive me if the past year has given me an odd view of what you consider normal, Stevie. This isn't some kind of... you know."

Steve... doesn't know how to answer this. He doesn't know how the evening even got here. He's supposed to be falling asleep in front of a terrible movie by now.

Not... whatever this is.

"No, Eddie. You think I had an Upside Down tick or something?"

Eddie scoffed. "I don't know. The way you're acting I have to admit I'm concerned."

Steve waved his hands. "It's not that serious, really. I just-- there was this lump and I was maybe a little worried to look and Robin is my best friend so--"

"Did you tell him about the Skittle yet," Robin mumbled around a spoon, ice cream tub clutched to her chest.

"Skittle?"

"Okay, so Robin was throwing candy at me and I guess accidentally--"

"Next day he thought he had a bug or something on his weiner so he made me--"

"--I did not 'make' you--"

"--made me look at his weiner and there was a Skittle stuck down there. Nothing to freak out about."

Robin dropped back onto the couch, shoving Steve closer to Eddie, almost in the other man's lap.

"You know what," Steve said. "I'm gonna get something to eat. That seems like a good idea."

Robin boo'ed through her mouthful of ice cream but Steve shifted to stand up anyway.

Before he was able to move strong arms wrapped around his shoulders and hauled him back down again, this time fully into Eddie's lap.

"Hey, now, Stevie," Eddie crooned. "No need to run off, nothing to be embarassed about here."

"Sure," Steve huffed. "I freaked out over a piece of candy. Very normal."

Steve felt a dull prod at his back and turned to see that Eddie had rested his chin on Steve's shoulder.

"It is normal. You were scared, you asked for help. That's normal, healthy even. I'm proud of you, Steve."

Eddie's voice was soft and serious in a way Steve wasn't used to.

"Oh my god," Robin moaned. "I cannot believe you two."

Steve turned to face her, feeling Eddie shift against him to do the same.

"What?"

Robin had dropped her spoon into the ice cream and her eyes were wide and damp.

"This is way too cute. I can't handle it."

Steve felt Eddie start in place before he began shaking.

"Are you laughing, you asshole," Robin cried. "This is supposed to be a nice moment. I'm too high for this."

She looked down at the ice cream and groaned. "Noooo."

Steve leaned forward honestly concerned.

She sighed and tipped her head back against the couch. "I forgot the chips."

Eddie's laugh got louder, and Steve finally stood up.

"It's okay, Robs. I'll go get the chips. And maybe some water?"

As Steve started walking towards the kitchen he heard the couch creak.

And Shane does. Hayden takes it gingerly and makes a mental note to wash his hands as soon as possible.

He dials out and the call is picked up quickly. Hayden hears the man on the other end take a breath and jumps in immediately. 

"Hey there, Lily," Hayden emphasizes. 

A guttural Russian mumble greets him, probably profanity.

"So you know how your boyfriend said he had a head cold, but he was fine, and he was totally okay to go to practice today?"

"Okay," Rozanov -Ilya- replied. "So what are you saying? Why are you on Jane's phone?"

Hayden sighed. If he hung up right now Shane would yell at him but if he answered Rozanov would yell at him. 

Either way he was getting yelled at. But Shane was already crying and that tipped it.

"Your boyfriend got dizzy on the ice and fell. Don't freak out, he's fine, mostly, but he hit his head. The medics did say it wasn't a concussion but they want someone to keep an eye on him just in case. I offered me and Jackie, or even his folks, but he insists on you." Hayden rushed through his speech but he was still surprised Rozanov didn't interrupt.

"Lily," he called, looking at the phone screen. The call hadn't dropped. "You there?"

Shane began to paw at Hayden's hands.  

"Give me. Hayden, give me the phone."

Hayden waved him away and pretended not to see his best friend pouting.

A clatter rang through the phone line and Hayden lifted it to his ear again. He heard a door, scuffing footsteps, and more muttered Russian.

"Where are you," Ilya asked, a car door slam in the background. "Arena? Gym? I will be there soon."

The car started and Hayden panicked. "Don't hang up, we're at my house. I told coach I'd watch Shane-- he's resting on the couch but he wanted me to call you."

"Ah. Okay. I will be there soon."

Hayden snorted. "Yeah, I figured. Shane refused to even take his shoes off, said you'd get him."

Hayden heard a huff over the phone, almost a laugh. "I always will do this. Tell him I will be there soon and tell him--"

Ilya said something in Russian and forced Hayden to repeat it until it declared it 'good enough'. 

"Okay, okay, fine," Hayden said. "I got it and I'll tell him. Now are you headed to my place?"

Ilya laughed. "I am halfway there already. Thought I would be walking in the door by the time you learned easy phrase. Tell Jane what I say and I will be there soon."

"Sure--" Hayden said before the call cut off.

Rubbing the phone screen against the front of his sweatshirt, Hayden turned to see Shane lying on the couch, a pillow clutched to his chest.

"Is he coming," Shane sniffled.

"Yeah," Hayden signed. "Yeah buddy, he's coming." He nudged Shane's legs to make some room before taking a seat on the end of the couch. "Had a message for you too."

Hayden repeated the Russian carefully and he felt pretty good about his delivery.

Right up until Shane started giggling.

Giggling.

Shane Hollander, giggling.

"What did I say? Shane? What the fuck did i just say."

Shane only grinned. "Swear jar, Hayds. Like, a lot. A lot, a lot."

Hayden groaned. "Oh my god, you two deserve each other."

Shane's grin faded to a softer smile and his eyes got even more teary. "You mean it?"

Hayden patted Shane's knee. "Yeah, man. I don't even know where he's coming from and he managed to get halfway here in minutes. I'm pretty sure if you were on, like, the moon and you wanted him he'd find a way to get there. 

"That's all I could ever want for you. I give Rozanov a lot of shit and I'm not gonna stop but he makes you happy like I've never seen before."

"Oh my god, Hayden," Shane sniffled. "You're such a softie."

"Well," Hayden huffed. "Don't tell anybody."

Shane laughed, wetly. "Oh, I'm gonna tell everybody."

Everything starts in an hour but Eddie isn't on until the reception so he has plenty of time to grab a smoke before soundcheck. He knows the venue pretty well and there's an alcove next to the vendor loading area. Nice flowers, a decent bench, and it's nowhere near the dumpsters.

This venue butts up against a small patch of woodland and Eddie wonders if he might have time to check it out, see if there's anything inspiring. He doesn't hike but he does enjoy a walk in nature.

Before he gets the chance a baby blue van with 'Steve's Sweets' painted across the side pulls up, blocking his sight line.

He mourns the loss of his view right up until the driver pops the door open and climbs out.

Oh, the beauties nature provides.

Acid wash jeans which under any other circumstances Eddie would laugh at are lovingly hugging possibly the finest ass he has ever had the pleasure of seeing.

The rest of the picture - when he can drag his attention away - is pretty choice too. A soft looking pink sweater, sleeves pushed up to expose sun bronzed skin making Eddie idly wonder if the man is that tan all over.

The crowning glory is a gorgeous head of hair framing a face that Eddie can only describe as pretty.

Eddie tries to turn his attention back to his cigarette. Admiring someone is one thing, leering like a creep is entirely different.

He takes a last drag and drops the filter on the gravel, grinding it out under his feet. Mentally he says farewell to the handsome stranger and turns to go back inside.

Eddie takes two steps before a suit clad man comes out of the building and pushes past him in a rush.

"Steven."

The man's not yelling, but his voice is the kind of loud that demands to be heard.

Eddie turns to watch as the man approaches the van and the other guy, Steve apparently, standing in front of it.

"What the hell are you doing here dressed like that."

Eddie should go inside. This isn't his business. But one of the perks of working weddings was the drama and this was very promising.

He stays where he is, standing just in front of the door. In case either man looks in his direction Eddie actually mimes patting at his jacket like he is looking for his smokes.

"I'm delivering a cake, Dick. And if it wasn't for Diana I wouldn't even be doing that much. She deserves to get something good out of this day."

Eddie bites back a smile, lowering his head a little so he can still watch what was happening ideally without being noticed.

"You will refer to me as father. I believe I have earned at least that much respect."

Eddie feels his eyebrows rise. This kind of drama was another part of why he likes weddings. Better than the soap operas he watches with Uncle Wayne.

"Sure," Steve snorts. "Tell you what, I'll compromise," and he continues, "Riiichaaaard."

"Grow up, Steven. You were invited here as a guest. You had better have a tuxedo in that stupid truck of yours, the ceremony starts in an hour."

"I was hired to bake a cake. Part of my fee includes delivery. That is literally the only reason I'm here. You and the future ex-Mrs Harrington will have to celebrate without me. Try not to cry yourself to sleep about it."

"You little asshole," Richard snarls. "You think you're better than me. You think I wanted you here? You owe me your presence. I have important people coming to this wedding and I need them to see my dutiful son at my side."

The baker laughs, a low nasty chuckle that sends a perverse shiver down Eddie's back.

"Tell you what, Dick, I'm booked up today but I'll come to your next wedding." Eddie looks up to see Steve is grinning, bright and as sharp as a knife. "I'll even get you a toaster."

Eddie lurches in place as he sees Richard lunge towards Steve. He is too far away to stop the man but he has to do something.

Before he takes a step the door swings open again and a petite woman comes rushing out.

"Richard?"

Eddie watches as she runs forward tugging at the satin bathrobe she is wrapped in. She freezes a few feet away from what had been brewing into a nasty fight.

"Steve? You're here-- oh, but your suit! Richard? What's going on?"

The older man doesn't turn around, doesn't seem to notice her at all but Eddie watches Steve gingerly move until he is standing between his father and the woman.

"Hey Diana," he says softly. "Sorry you had to see this, dad and me just have a difference of opinion. Everything's fine."

Eddie feels something in him clench. He is very familiar with the tone in Steve's voice. He had heard it from his uncle Wayne to his dad when he was a little kid. It is soft but firm, implacable. Eddie isn't sure exactly what is coming but he can tell Steve knew and that it would be bad.

The venue usually had at least two security patrolling the grounds, more if the reception was expected to be contentious. Eddie doesn't know where they are right now but hopefully not far.

"See what you've done Steven? God, you're useless."

"Richard, don't say that," Diana says, her voice rising.

The older man is turning from pink to red and Eddie can see Steve moving slowly, shifting his father's attention to him.

"That's me, Richard. Useless Steve. Flunked out of college and he bakes cookies like some kind of fairy. You sure you want to parade your failure of a son in front of the hoi polloi?"

Eddie hears Diana's gasp from where he's standing. "Steve, what are you talking about? Richard what's going on?"

Richard turns his glare on her and Eddie feels himself moving forward almost against his own will. He's not sure what he'll do when he gets there but he's never been the bystander type.

Steve just laughs. Bright and angry. "I'm not sure what my father told you about our relationship but we don't have one."

"No," she says. "Your father-- he told me-- "

When Eddie met her a few weeks ago he had seen a confident, charming woman that knew exactly what she wanted and was excited to be married. Now she looks confused, maybe even scared.

Eddie has gotten closer to this whole altercation than he wanted to be but since he is there and it looks like Steve and Richard are busy trying to glare holes in each other Eddie steps up to Diana and lightly grasps her elbow.

She startles and turns to face him. Her eyes are wide, wet and staring.

"Mr. Munson," she asks, softly.

Eddie tries to smile. "Mr. Munson is my uncle, ma'am. It's Eddie. Let's get you out of here, okay? Back inside."

Eddie is able to gently guide her a few steps away. He hates turning his back on the other two men but he needs to get Diana out of reach for whatever is about to happen.

"I dont understand," the bride mutters. "Steve used to be such a sweet boy. Mr. Harrin-- Richard. Oh, I'm so silly. Richard. He said-- this is so embarassing."

Her voice is pitched and tight and if she isn't crying yet she would be soon. Eddie resolves to get her inside and into the arms of literally any friendly face.

"Hey," Eddie says. "Let's just--" he scrambles for a name. Anna? Annie? "Amy, right? Your maid of honor? Let's get you to her, okay. You can sit down."

Diana nods.

Behind him he can hear Richard and Steve hissing noxious words back and forth. There is no shouting but the air is heavy and hot with anger. Even though he was outside Eddie feels like he can't breathe.

Eddie gets Diana to the door, hadn't realized how close they really were, maybe 30 feet if that. It's open, anxious faces framed in weathered oak. He hands Diana off to her Maid of Honor who quickly sweeps the woman deeper into the hall and then he nods to Patricia Abernathy, the event space manager.

"Think we're gonna have a cancellation," he says, nodding towards the departing woman.

She rolls her eyes. "Can't say I'm surprised. I had a bad feeling about this one."

Eddie scoffs. "You have a bad feeling about all of them."

He turns to face where the two men are still in a stand off in front of the van. "You're not wrong though, I think. At least I hope they cancel."

Patricia snorts. "We got the deposits locked down and the contract is airtight so if they cancel we still get fifty percent of the remaining fee. I'll take that for the rest of the day off."

"You got a date, Patty? And it's not me? You're breaking my heart."

"Ha," she says flatly. "That pretty boy is more your type and from the way he's talking you're in with a chance. Now you keep an eye on those two. Security is on their way, we'll see if they can get here before these guys start really butting heads."

Eddie nods. It isn't the first time he had been called on to help manage fractious families.

He turns back in time to see Richard take a swing at Steve. The younger guy steps back out of the way and Eddie can hear his mocking laugh as far away as the door.

He moves closer to the two of them. Eddie isn't going to get in the middle of the fight but maybe if he reminds them there are other people around that might be enough to calm them down.

He watches Richard lunge forward and swing again. This time Steve can't move away fast enough and the blow glances off of his cheek.

"Hey," Eddie calls, now jogging towards them. "Hey, knock it off! You wanna fight take it somewhere else!"

Steve turns to face Eddie, opening his mouth as if he was going to say something but all that comes out is a low grunt as Richard hits him in the shoulder and shoves him to the ground.

Eddie throws himself forward, pushing Richard away. "What do you think you're doing," he shouts in the man's face but Richard doesn't seem to hear, pressing back against Eddie.

"You little bastard," Richard shouts at his son. "You're worthless! I don't know why I bothered."

"Go to hell," Steve replies.

That seems to make Richard even angrier which Eddie hadn't thought was possible. He isn't sure he will be able to hold him off much longer.

"Hey, what's going on here," a low even voice calls. It is the venue security guard, his partner just behind him with a hand on his radio.

Eddie feels himself relax and then stumbles back as Richard pushes him aside to fall on his son again.

Eddie turns to see both guards trying to pull the older man away as he continues to hit his son, screaming obscenities.

Not sure how to help, Eddie stands by. When he sees an opening he lunges forward and takes hold of Steve's shoulders, pulling him back and away.

The younger man fights against him at first, eyes closed and arms up in front of his face.  Eddie figures he probably didn't know whose hands are on him.

"Hey. Hey. It's me, Eddie. Shit. I work here. You're safe, security has your dad. You're safe."

Eddie steps back, loosening his grip on Steve but still keeping one hand on his shoulder, trying to sooth him.

A few feet away Richard is still twisting, trying to get free and attack his son again, but Eddie can see the guards have a good hold on him and it doesn't look like they will be letting go any time soon.

As Steve calms down Eddie lets go of his shoulder, instead crouching next to him. "You doing okay? I saw you had you hands up but he got a few hits in."

Steve lowers his arms and sits upright. He twists his neck back and forth and shifts his shoulders before opening his eyes and looking up at Eddie. "I'm okay. I'm fine. God, it's a soap opera isn't it? Fuck."

Eddie lets himself drop into a seat next to the other man. They both watch in silence as the guards march Steve's father around the corner to the front of the event hall.

"You know the bride? Diana," the guy asks. "She was my babysitter. When I was eleven."

"Oof," Eddie says. "So she was--"

"Seventeen then, and now it's been twenty years for her and about three wives for him."

"Scandalous," Eddie murmurs. He sees Steve smile and feels relieved. "What will people say. The 'hoi polloi' I believe you called them?"

Steve snorts. "A crowd of empty suits that exist solely to tell my dad how respected he is. Will he get arrested?"

"Maybe," Eddie says. "I think that might be up to you. It's assault at least."

"Ugh," Steve says, rubbing his face. "That's all I need. I'm trying to get him out of my life."

"Well," Eddie says. "I can attest that jail is very good at keeping deadbeat dads out of your life."

Steve starts laughing and then winces, wrapping an arm around his stomach.

"Shit, you are hurt," Eddie says, scrambling to his feet. "Do you need an ambulance? Patty probably called 911 by now."

Steve waves him off. "I'm fine. This is not my first fight and my old man hits-- well, I was gonna say 'like a girl' but then my best friend would kick my ass and I'm way more scared of her," Steve says, laughing softly.

He looks up at Eddie and holds out his free hand. "You gonna help me up? Or is chivalry dead?"

"Chivalry," Eddie repeats. "You a damsel in distress?"

"I might as well be," Steve says. "Now come on."

Eddie laughs and reaches down, gently guiding Steve back to his feet. He feels the man's weight leaning on him for a few seconds and despite the circumstances Eddie has to admit Steve feels good in his arms.

Once he is steady Steve steps back and Eddie lets him go.

Steve moves to the van and leans up against the metal surface. Eddie walks over to join him.

"So," Steve says. "What next?"

Eddie shakes his head. "I honestly don't know. The wedding is canceled, for sure. For today at least."

"Just for today? You think she'll marry him still?"

Eddie shrugs. "I have no idea. I wouldn't but then I wouldn't have said yes in the first place."

Steve leans back, tapping his head against the van a few times before he turns back to Eddie. "You know the worst part? This was my last delivery. Now, I have to deal with this stupid cake. Three tiers of lemon and raspberry." He laughs. "Do you think a homeless shelter will take a wedding cake?"

Eddie grins. "I don't see why not. At least something good will come out of today."

Steve looks up towards the hall. "I feel like I should say something-- to Diana, I mean. She was always really nice to me, she deserved better than this."

"I have found that good or bad people rarely get what they deserve. You don't really owe her anything but I can't fault the impulse." Turning towards the hall, Eddie gestures for Steve to follow him. "Just-- just don't apologize for him? Okay?"

Steve walks in silence for a few steps before he coughs roughly. His voice is thick and choked and he coughs again. "I, uh, I stopped apologizing for him a long time ago. His faults are his own. I just wish I didn't get dragged into it."

Eddie laughs. "I know that song."

"Yeah," Steve asks.

Eddie nods. They are at the door and he pulls it open for the other man, gesturing him in with a bow.

Steve stops in the doorway as Eddie stands up again. He is framed by the light inside and the scent of hothouse roses comes drifting out into the open air. Eddie can picture him suddenly in that moment standing at a balcony limned by moonlight.

"Hey Sunshine," Eddie says softly. "Buy me a drink and we can trade stories?"

Steve smiles. "Yeah," he says, with a small laugh. "Sure, why not." He holds up his hands, still dirty and scraped from the asphalt. "Help me get cleaned up and let me say something to Diana. Then we can talk."

"No," Steve replied. "Just this."

'This' was a vacuum cleaner. An upright vacuum cleaner with hose attachment and a retractable cord. A one hundred dollar vacuum cleaner.

Eddie felt sick. He pulled his hand away and Steve let it go awkwardly. Eddie cleared his throat and nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, just this." He pulled out his wallet and passed over the money. Signing the warranty card in a messy scrawl.

They walked out of the store and loaded the vacuum into the back of Steve's truck.

Steve and Eddie had gotten to the car in silence but once the doors were closed it started.

"Babe," Steve said, his voice soft but firm. "What was that about? We agreed we need a new vacuum. Wayne's old one gave up the ghost and the carpet sweeper does nothing. I thought this was cool."

Eddie groaned and rubbed the heels of his hands against his eyes. "It's not-- it's just..."

He couldn't find the words and Steve didn't press him. The interior of the truck's cab was quiet, windows muffling the noise of other shoppers moving through the parking lot, the occasional sound of their radios drifting on the air.

Eddie took a few breaths, heard Steve do the same beside him - in - out - in - out

"Can I check in," Steve says after a few breaths.

"Almost," Eddie replies and they go back to breathing.

This time Eddie breaks the silence. "It's real, right?"

"Real," Steve echoes. "The vacuum? Yeah?"

"It's -- the vacuum we have now? Wayne got it from the Johnsons before they moved to go live with their kids in Des Moines. It was a really good vacuum. Lasted, like. Seven years. The one before that Wayne found in the trash. It needed some fixing up and the hose had to be taped together but it ran for two years."

Steve hums, just a considering noise to show he's listening but leaving Eddie some spacw to talk. Eddie cannot explain how much he appreciates that.

"The stove was a store display they were gonna toss out because the wiring was bad. The couch was abandoned on a curb up in Loch Nora. Most of my clothes come from the Goodwill; Wayne's too, even his work boots. My guitar, my sweetheart, is a hand-me-down to I don't know how many degrees."

Eddie sighs and tips his head back against the headrest. The ceiling of the cab is upholstered in dark blue fabric. Eddie drags his fingers over it.

"Munsons don't get new things, Steve. Not nice ones, anyway." He blew out a rough breath. "I know this is stupid. It's just a vacuum cleaner, but--"

"Don't say that," Steve interrupted. "If I don't get to say stupid neither do you."

Eddie reached over the gear shift and clasped the hand Steve offered.

"Okay," Steve said. "Do you... should we return the vacuum?"

"No," Eddie said. "No, that's not the answer. We-- I have the money. I can afford a new vacuum, a nice one."

"A really nice one."

"And it's okay to buy new things."

"It really is," Steve said.

Eddie nodded. "We're grown ups now, Stevie. Got good jobs, a nice apartment, a fancy new vacuum cleaner. What's next, a picket fence? 2.5 kids and a dog?"

Steve smiled and pulled Eddie's hand up to his face, pressed a kiss against his knuckles before letting go and reaching for the ignition. "I'm allergic to dogs but let's get home and we can start working on kids."

Eddie reached out for Steve, pulling him across the armrest into a fierce kiss.

Steve fell back into his seat, a bright flush in his cheeks. "Wow," Steve said, starting the car. "What are you gonna do when we buy a house?"

Steve Harrington doesn't believe in ghosts so he doesn't answer when Benny Hammond asks how he's been doing, when Bob Newby calls out a greeting from the crumbling lot where Radio Shack used to stand.

Steve doesn't acknowledge the way Mews winds around his ankles, the way he can almost feel her fur as if she were real. Which she isn't.

If he believed in ghosts Hawkins would be overpopulated. People wandering the streets, following old patterns or searching for an escape they'll likely never find.

If he believed in ghosts Steve would have spent an hour crying on the bathroom floor the first time Chrissy Cunningham waved hello from the picnic table behind the high school.

He doesn't go there anymore. Not much reason to after all.

Steve lights another cigarette to match the one burning in the ashtray beside him.

"I appreciate the thought but you're wasting smokes," Eddie would say, if Steve believed in ghosts. "I get just as much enjoyment out of yours as you do with none of the drawbacks."

The other boy looks good, healthy. His skin is pink and his eyes shine. He wanders around Steve's backyard, tightrope walking along the edge of the pool, jumping from patio chair to table and back again.

He always returns to Steve's side.

"You know, you might want to quit it with those things." Eddie's voice is soft, barely louder than a whisper on the twilight breeze. "You don't need to join us all that soon. Not that I mind the company, I'm just saying.

Take your time, Stevie."

Steve Harrington doesn't believe in ghosts.

---

The diner was pretty big and very busy but Eddie and Chrissy knew their path by heart, nodding to the cashier on the way past.

Gareth waved them over from their booth in the corner. "What took you guys so long?"

Eddie laughed awkwardly, "Uh, you know how girls ar-" he was cut off by a quick elbow to the side that left him gasping as Chrissy moved past him to slide into the bench.

"The bus stalled out a few stops away. Eddie didn't want to wait for the next one so we decided to walk it," she said, shoving the guys further down the curved seat.

Freak grinned. "How far?"

Eddie opened his mouth but before he could answer, Chrissy cut in. "A mile, if that."

"Okay," Eddie said. "It was way more than that. I can walk a mile, no problem. Hell, five miles. No big deal."

Gareth grinned, slow and mean, before looking from Eddie to Chrissy.

Eddie turned to face Chrissy and saw a matching grin on her face. Maybe slightly less mean. "That sounds like a challenge."

Eddie felt his stomach crash inside him. He and Chrissy had been friends since middle school when he dared her to join him on stage at the talent show and she immediately stole his jacket and a tambourine from the band room.

Corroded Coffin featuring Chrissy Cunningham placed second and Eddie learned never to underestimate the petite blonde.

---

An hour later after ordering food and being harangued by his friends, having brunch while being harangued by his friends, driving to the gym in Jeff's Chrysler being harangued by his friends, insisting he needed a break to digest so he wouldn't cramp and still being harangued by his friends Eddie found himself doing something he never thought he would, somewhere he hoped he would never see... walking into Gareth's gym, and after a few perfunctory stretches onto a treadmill.

Chrissy and the rest of the band were standing by with paper cups of water and a towel Chrissy had snagged from the receptionist at the front desk. Gareth had charmed the woman out of a handful of guest passes, an empty manila folder, and the use of her sharpie and was standing in front of the treadmill with a sign that said, "WE R THE CHAMPUONS."

Eddie would be laughing at them if he could catch his breath.

In a fit of hubris he had set the machine, with Chrissy's guidance - and despite her warnings - for intervals so the speed would rise and lower at what felt like random moments while the incline shifted madly under his feet.

Eddie hadn't even changed clothes and his leather jacket felt like an anchor on his back.

Twenty minutes in and Eddie was only upright from sheer force of will and stubbornness.

A mile? He had four more of these to do?

He thought about taking off his jacket for another five minutes before finally doing it. His belts, hastily unwound from their strangling denim loops followed and Eddie got a second wind from the relief.

In retrospect he should have taken Jeff's sneakers when they were offered. They were a size too big but they would have been better than his boots.

Chrissy had cheered him on for the first two miles but as he got closer to the halfway point of the trudge from hell what little he could see of her through his curtain of sweat soaked hair looked concerned.

Seriously concerned.

Eddie forced himself upright.

He could at least finish this. He was feeling the weight of his own braggadocio but he wasn't a quitter.

Eddie tossed his hair back and if he'd had the breath he would have laughed at the way his friends flinched away from the flying sweat.

Another half mile went better and he felt refreshed, his confidence had taken a knock but he was back in it now.

Then he had one mile left to go and the treadmill slanted upwards, the steepest angle so far. Simultaneously the speed went up. Chrissy had controlled it so it wouldn't go too fast but the combination of speed and angle meant Eddie was half jogging uphill and he could feel his legs begin to tremble.

He closed his eyes for a moment and felt himself miss a step. He lurched to the side and heard Chrissy gasp.

Eddie opened his eyes to see a thin arm reach across him to the controls of the machine and slowly the angle went back down and it got slower. Eddie kept going, waving Chrissy away from the controls, and made his way through the last mile half hanging off of the grab bars.

Eventually the machine came to a juddering halt and Eddie let himself collapse forward, his forearms resting on the console at the front.

"Told you," he panted. "Told you I could do it. And with a handicap too." Eddie raised a foot, waving his thick soled boot at his friends for a moment before dropping it back down.

He felt like he might vomit himself inside out but Eddie was fairly confident that could wait until he got home. Steeling himself he moved to step off of the treadmill only to have his knees collapse underneath him.

"Whoa there, man," Gareth said, holding Eddie upright.

"I'm cool," Eddie said, feebly batting at Gareth's hands. "Jus' gotta catch my breath."

Eddie staggered over to the bench against the wall and let himself sink into the seat.

He was too tired to raise his head but he watched his friends move back and forth around him until Jeff and Gareth walked away and only Chrissy's pristine white Van's were in his field of view.

She moved to sit next to him and Eddie shifted down the bench, groaning a bit at the motion.

"You did it," she said softly.

"Did I," Eddie muttered, leaning back against the wall, his chin pressed to his chest. "Doesn't feel like much of a victory."

"Seven years ago we thought you were never gonna walk again. Now every step is a victory," she said, her voice soft but steely.

Eddie clenched his eyes closed. So much time had passed but there was a part of him that would forever exist in that moment. His overturned van filling with smoke, the pressure of his seat belt the only thing holding him in place. And Chrissy's voice, harder than he had ever heard it, ordering him to stay with her, to stay awake.

He had done it. He had stayed for her, and for his friends and for Wayne. Fought through the accident and the recovery, another lifetime of physical and occupational therapy learning how to do things again.

It took him months to walk again, even longer to run. The manual dexterity to play guitar took a year and he still needs a capo for some songs.

Over time Eddie had stopped the therapy, stopped the exercise. He went back to his life as usual. And it was okay. He would never be the man he had been before the accident but he was doing better, doing well enough not to think about it anymore.

Except at moments like this.

They sat together in silence as the gym's playlist transitioned from the 00's boyband playlist to a 90's r&b playlist.

As the last notes of Boyz II Men's End of the Road faded out Eddie pushed himself to his feet.

"You know how you've been trying to get me to work out more," he said.

Chrissy stood as well. "Of course."

Eddie took a deep breath. "Let's do it."

Chrissy offered her hand for a high five. Eddie feebly slapped at it before letting himself lean on her shoulder and start the slow walk out of the gym.

---

Two days after the brunch debacle that Eddie refused to think about he found himself following Chrissy into a gym. Unlike Gareth's, all chrome and glass, this one was smaller, warmer.

The floors in the main hallway were covered in linoleum tile and Eddie could see small studios branching off where hardwood gleamed softly in the sunlight pouring through windows.

"It used to be a community center," Chrissy said as they walked up to the receptionn desk.

"It still is," the girl at the counter said, smiling. "The community has changed a little bit but the feeling never goes away."

The name tag pinned to her shirt pocket said Robin in rainbow colors and Eddie looked from her smiling face to Chrissy's beside him.

Chrissy Cunningham Patented Pining - Level 3? Already?

Oh, this could be bad.

The girl, Robin, talked them through the community gym's rules and set up. Most of it went over both Eddie and Chrissy's heads but for different reasons.

Though given Eddie had caught how many times Robin stumbled over her words things might not be as hopeless as he feared.

Eddie caught something about schedules and trainers and specialty classes but the rest was a blur mostly aimed at Chrissy who seemed to be lapping it up.

Finally Robin clapped. "Okay. Tour time." She looked over Eddie's shoulder and snapped her fingers.

Before Eddie had the chance a guy walked around them to join Robin in front of the desk.

"Hey dingus, I'm going to give Chrissy a tour of the facilities. Can you take Eddie around?"

The man turned to say something but before he could she cut him off. "Eddie? This is Steve. Steve, Eddie."

And then Robin was gone. Chrissy threw back a look and all Eddie could do was shrug before she hurried off in the other woman's wake.

"Wow," the guy - Steve, according to the girl and his own rainbow nametag - said. "That was way too smooth."

This guy was hot. Eddie knew there were gonna be hot guys, it was a gym, that was expected. A too-tight baby blue ringer tee and shorts at a length that couldn't possibly be legal only highlighted miles of mole spotted golden skin. Topped off with a head of hair that made Eddie's hands itch with want and that sweet face? Eddie was a goner.

Oh shit, he's talking to me.

"Huh," Eddie said.

"She's usually a nightmare when she tries to flirt--" Steve turned to face Eddie, a nervous look on his face. "I mean-- uh, Robin is normally shy around clients. She gets--"

Eddie waved him off. "No, no, don't worry. Chrissy is a disaster lesbian, so if Robin..."

Steve nodded. "Absolutely. Me too--" He caught himself with a laugh. "A disaster, I mean. Not a lesbian. Bisexual. Me. I mean," Steve said, pointing a thumb at his own chest before laughing. "You? If you don't mind me asking, that is? No pressure."

Eddie shook his head. "No, I-- I'm gay."

Steve sighed. "How's your disaster threshold?"

And Eddie thought oh no, he's a dork too? Eddie just shrugged. There was nothing else he could say.

Steve smiled and Eddie knew he was absolutely done for.

A half hour later found Eddie and Chrissy walking out of the gym holding hands. Their other hands were full of brochures.

"The dodgeball team looks like fun," Chrissy offered.

"Not a chance in hell," Eddie replied. "Heavy Metal Meditation?" Eddie had no idea what that meant but he had to admit he was curious. He loved metal but even he had to admit it was more mindless than mindful.

"I'll pass but if you think you'll enjoy it, have fun," Chrissy answered before pulling them both to a stop.

She turned to face him and her eyes were serious. "I'm really glad you're doing this, you know."

Eddie opened his mouth to say something, though he wasn't sure what response she wanted.

Chrissy waved him off. "No, I just. I know you don't like exercise and stuff but you're my best friend and I could have lost you and so seeing you open to try new things, to take care of yourself? That's really special."

Eddie pulled free of Chrissy's grip to wrap his arms around her, the pamphlets in his other hand crunching against her back.

He left a smacking kiss on her cheek and stepped back. "Miss Chrysanthemum Cunningham, I would do anything for you. Even," he shuddered, "exercise."

She laughed as they linked arms and kept walking down the street.

---

Eddie wasn't sure what to expect from meditation. Except for the long hair the teacher looked nothing like a metal head but Eddie had never met anyone so chilled out in his life and after the first class he was hooked.

A few months later found Eddie settled on one of the low benches that lined the wall outside of the studio after class, relaxing into the heavy thrum the music left in his bones.

"Be honest. Argyle is giving you guys edibles, isn't he?"

Eddie looked up to see Steve standing over him, a clipboard in his hands. Today's outfit was butter yellow, another in a long line of matching tee shirts and shorts Eddie was pretty sure were intended to drive him insane.

This vision in oleo joined Eddie on the bench, nudging him further down the seat.

"It's okay, you can tell me."

"What," Eddie sputtered. "High? What? No-- it's meditation? Argyle isn't getting us high."

Steve smiled. "I don't know... I've heard the music blasting, I can't imagine it's very restful."

"You should join us one day." Eddie let himself lean over and bump his shoulder into the other man.

"Not my speed," Steve laughed.

"Oh," Eddie murmured. "I'm intrigued. Where do you get your gym jollies, Stevie?"

Their awkward introduction had evolved into something Eddie was happy to call a friendship and they had spent too many days hanging around the reception fesk and watching the delicate courtship of their favorite lesbians to be strangers.

Steve knew what brand of deodorant Eddie preferred and that he was scared of spiders despite having one tattooed on his body and Eddie knew that Steve was allergic to hazelnuts and called them filberts because it 'didn't sound as cute, those stupid jerks', and that he purposefully bought his tee shirts a size too small but claimed the shorts were his actual size.

which was either absolute bullshit or if true some kind of punishment from god for me, specifically

They were friends. And Eddie was cool with that. So what if Steve was hot. And sweet. And kind of a dork. And maybe he made Eddie feel comfortable in a way he had never been before. It didn't mean anything.

If Eddie flirted a little now and then it didn't have to mean anything, did it? Steve gave as good as he got, anyway.

It was fine.

"You should check out my class one of these days, Eds," Steve said.

Steve taught a class?

"You teach a class?"

"Yeah," Steve snorted. "What did you think I do here every day?"

"I assumed you were here for decorative purposes." Eddie flailed at Steve's... everything.

Steve only laughed and brushed Eddie's waving hands out of his face.

Steve looked up at the clock on the wall before standing. "I have to go but Thursday morning, okay? 10:30?"

"Yeah, sure," Eddie said. "Thursday. I'll be the one in all black."

Steve started walking backwards. "As long as it's spandex." He turned away and was off down the hall before Eddie could ask any follow up questions.

Spandex? What the hell have I gotten myself into?

---

"Jazzercise," Eddie squawked, letting go of the hem of his sweatshirt to reach for Chrissy's hand. He had bigger problems now than somebody getting a flash of his black spandex encased goods.

Chrissy had leapt at the chance to join Eddie and now he knew why.

"Jazzercise," Chrissy echoed with a disturbing amount of relish, swatting him away gently. "We are gonna kick ass."

"You are. There's no way I'm coordinated enough for this," he muttered, jerking to the side as another in a long line of nearly identical old ladies in matching leotard shouldered past.

"That's what I said," Robin murmured from her place next to Chrissy. "And look at me now."

Eddie did. She was wearing jeans and a tank top.

"Can you work out in that," he asked.

"Oh, absolutely not," Robin said. "I told you I'm not coordinated. I tried when we first started working here and barely made it past the warm ups. I tripped over my own legwarmers during a stretch and took out three of the granny brigade. Mrs Chavez still hasn't forgiven me."

She gestured to an iron haired woman in a goldenrod catsuit glaring daggers at them.

"Now I just man the hydration station and play Candy Crush on my phone. Plus I act as bouncer."

"Bouncer," Chrissy echoed, a giggle in her voice that Eddie could only call disgustingly besotted.

"Oh yeah," Robin said. "They're old, not dead. I'm here to protect Steve's virtue, what's left of it."

Robin threw Eddie a wink and blew a kiss to Chrissy before making her way inside.

"You two are disgusting," Eddie hissed, and Chrissy only giggled in response, her hand pressed to her chest after she caught the kiss.

"Green does not look good on you, Eddie," Chrissy muttered. "Robin said Steve is interested, that he was really excited you agreed to try his class. You know, you're taking care of your health, now maybe it's time to take care of your heart? Take a chance? I hate to be gender normative but man up, Munson. "

"Oh sure," Eddie said. "I'll just march up to him and say 'hey Steve, I would like to do you'."

Eddie kept his voice low to make sure none of the old biddies in the studio could hear him but he still had to camp it up for Chrissy.

She seemed to enjoy the show at least, her grin was contagious.

Until Eddie realized she wasn't actually looking at him.

"I mean, I'm down," Steve said, his voice coming from behind Eddie. "I'd prefer to take you to dinner first if that's okay?"

Eddie froze in place.

He could see Chrissy's eyes moving from him to somewhere over his shoulder at Steve presumably before she giggled again. "I'm going to go in and... get some water."

Eddie watched her run inside, dodging past lines of women and a few men stretching on the floor. He saw her half tackle Robin out of her folding chair.

"I'm never going to hear the end of this," Eddie muttered.

"You," Steve laughed. "Robin's been on my case to ask you out for weeks now."

"Weeks," Eddie asked. "Wow, yeah... crazy..."

He finally turned to face Steve, absolutely resplendent in a grey and pink set of his usual uniform with pink head- and wristbands to match.

Eddie imagined his own face was about the same shade.

"You know," he sputtered. "I was only taking this class for you so if we have a date then I don't have to--"

"I dont know," Steve said, planting his hands in his hips. "I didn't peg you for a quitter."

"You haven't pegged me at all," Eddie muttered between his teeth.

Steve laughed and moved past Eddie. "Come on, time for class. Afterwards we can get a coffee and see how things go."

Eddie sighed. They hadn't even been on a date yet and he was pretty sure he would follow Steve anywhere, and not just for the view.