Chapter Text
When Eddie first sees the three of them, he knows - he just knows in his bones that they are kindred spirits.
Three lost little sheep, standing in a line in the cafeteria, lunch trays clasped tightly in their hands, looking so damn scared that Eddie’s cold black heart does a little flip of concern as he looks them over. (He’s not really cold hearted - not at all - but no one else in this fucking town needs to know that.)
One of them is wearing a goddamn may the force be with you slogan tee, for Christ’s sake. Which, Eddie has to respect the dedication to nerdom, but holy fuck. High School is going to eat these little shits alive.
Without making much of a conscious decision to really do so, he’s jumping up from his table, moving quickly toward the kids - Jeff and Gareth eying him strangely all the while - and tucks the three of them under his arms. They all start at the sudden gesture.
“Well well well, what do we have here? Fresh meat!” He jokes, before plucking at the collar of the apparent Star-Wars fan. “I respect the T-shirt game my dude - more of a trek fan myself, but Solo over Kirk any day. Come on. Sit over here.”
He steers the kids toward his table, all of them looking a little shellshocked, and raises an eyebrow at Gareth and Jeff, daring them to make a comment. Both boys just shrug and roll their eyes at him before they carry on discussing the upcoming campaign.
“Wait. No way - You guys play DnD?” The boy in the Star Wars shirt - Dustin, Eddie now knows - asks, eyes lighting up like a fucking Christmas tree.
“Oh, ho ho, I knew I’d like you.” Eddie smiles maniacally back at the kid as he settles back into his seat. More players for Hellfire? Yeah, he’s excited. So, sue him.
The boy grins at him then, wide and toothy and so goddamn endearing that Eddie feels a wave of affection tear right through him because shit, this kid is so goddamn genuine. Eddie can see it, goodness just fucking pouring out of him like sunshine filtering through an open window. Eddie thinks right then and there that he might just go to war for this kid if he had to. Which is odd because he’s never done anything except run from a fight in his life.
“Who’s your DM? Ours moved away over summer.” The tallest of the kids asks then, taking in the three older boys as a whole. He seems a little disgruntled, like he isn’t sure anyone could match up to their friend.
“Who do you think.” Gareth replies flippantly, inclining his head toward Eddie with a smirk, who’s leaning back against his chair, with his fingers steepled under his chin.
All three heads swivel Eddie’s way, three sets of eyes lighting up with something akin to wonder and Eddie fucking basks in it. He’s always enjoyed holding court, so to speak. Being the centre of attention on his own terms, loud and dramatic as a way to entertain - to deflect. He raises an eyebrow at them all, lets his mouth curl into a devious grin.
“The name’s Eddie Munson, kiddies. Welcome to Hellfire.”
The kids don’t take much persuading after that; and by the end of lunch, Eddie has three more players confirmed for the first campaign of the year.
Eddie can see that Mike will take a little more convincing than the other two though, the kid even seems a touch resentful of him at first, hesitantly accepts the invitation to play with a “I’ll come to one meeting, but don’t expect me to join your party.”
And Eddie gets it, he really does - their previous DM sounds like a fucking genius - and the way the kids talk about him makes Eddie think he absolutely definitely won’t ever be able to hold a candle to the younger boy.
But that just makes him more determined to prove himself. Which should be more shameful than it is - he’s never cared much about gaining people’s approval before, especially not from a group of teenagers with attitudes the size of Texas - but there’s something about these kids that has Eddie desperate to earn their admiration. Maybe it’s because of their obvious similarities to him, or simply because despite all his bitching about conformity, Eddie can’t help but wish for what most social outcasts want - friends.
So, he makes it his mission that week to get Mike on side, the kid moodily freezing him out at every turn.
By the time they finish up the first club meeting on Thursday night though? Eddie has Mike (and incidentally - all the others) eating out the palm of his hand.
And so it goes. The kids officially join Hellfire, Eddie dazzles them with his theatrics, and they befriend him in turn. And it really should be odd, how easy it is to care about them; Eddie has never in his life actively given a shit about anyone except his uncle. And yet these kids burrow their way into Eddie's heart so quickly, he wonders if maybe there's be something wrong with him.
It’s a few weeks into the first semester, when Eddie catches up with the three of them at the end of the school day, slinging his arms around them all as they head toward the front doors.
“Need a ride home, kiddies?” He asks, “I’m pretty sure your bikes will fit in the back of my van. One of you will have to go in there with them, but there’s like blankets and shit to sit on.”
He’s seen them ride to and from school most days, but the weather is turning colder, and he really is secretly soft-hearted underneath all the leather and chains he wears like armour. Not that he’d ever admit it, of course. To anyone. Ever.
“Thanks, Eddie. We’ve actually got a ride already.” Dustin says, smiling toothily at him to take any sting out of the rejection.
“Parent?” Eddie asks, honestly a little shocked, because he doesn’t think he’s ever seen any of their guardians waiting for them at the school gates.
Mike snorts, “kinda.” He says, trading an amused look with Lucas.
Eddie just shrugs.
“No sweat.” He shoots back, with a mischievous waggle of his eyebrows as they exit the school because, oh boy this could be fun.
“Which car’s yours?” He asks, pulling slightly ahead of the others and scanning the lot, all while feeling a little kick of exhilaration at the thought of horrifying some poor unsuspecting suburban housewife. With his tattoos, wild hair and devil music shirts, Eddie isn’t exactly a parent’s top choice for a play-date, and he absolutely thrives off that shit.
“Over there,” Lucas mumbles, gesturing towards the parking spaces closest to the school. The ones that only the most doting of parents arrive at twenty minutes before the last bell rings, ensuring a convenient place to devotedly watch their children come pouring out of the building, ready to greet them with proud smiles and warm hugs.
Eddie stops short. Because it’s not a suburban housewife, or even a bespectacled, newspaper reading father. Nope. Instead, there - leaning against his rich boy BMW and wrapped up in a polo shirt like he’s a goddamn model in a commercial for the Gap - is Steve Harrington. He raises his hand in a mildly exasperated wave when he sees the kids, which Dustin returns readily, a huge grin spreading across his face.
“That’s your ride?” Eddie asks, his jaw dropping with incredulity because surely the fuck not.
“Yeah, man.” Lucas says all nonchalant as if being met at the school gates by the golden boy of Hawkins himself wasn’t the most earth-shattering event to happen in the history of, well, ever and starting to head toward the Beamer.
“No, wait. Seriously? You guys are getting picked up by Steve freaking Harrington?” Eddie nearly screeches at them, still staring dumbfounded in the direction of the older boy, who’s smirking at the kids with a quite frankly fond expression, which is, to be completely honest, fucking jarring. Out the corner of his eye, Eddie sees Dustin stiffen almost imperceptibly.
“Yeah. He takes an early shift on Tuesdays so he can drive us to the arcade after school. Why?” Dustin seems almost… defensive. Which is weird.
“Uh - he’s a complete douchebag, man.” Eddie scoffs, like it’s obvious because seriously. Steve fucking Harrington?
“No. He’s not.” Dustin’s voice is small and wary and oh yeah, he’s definitely getting defensive.
Eddie laughs, brushing off Dustin’s words easily because there’s absolutely no freaking way the older boy regularly carts these kids to the arcade willingly. The idea is ridiculous.
“He is though. He’s a massive fu- freaking asshole, man. Thought you were better that that Henderson but there’s no accounting for taste, I suppose.” He aims for the usual light-hearted teasing that has become their default dynamic over the last month, but Dustin just looks hurt at his words. Which is even weirder.
“Whatever.” Dustin mutters, hiking his rucksack higher on his shoulder before spinning away from Eddie without saying anything else.
Eddie blinks, slightly taken aback.
“What’d I say?” He murmurs, half to himself, as he watches Dustin walk toward Harrington’s car. Steve reaches out to tousle the kid’s hair over his cap when he gets close enough, pulling his sunglasses up into his hairline and grinning warmly at the younger boy.
Dustin laughs, smiling big and wide in turn and shoves Steve’s hand playfully away. Then the two of them are fist bumping and Steve is grabbing Dustin’s hat off his head, and Dustin tries to tackle him, and something heavy and acidic and dangerously close to envy settles in Eddie’s chest as he watches them play fight.
“Steve’s cool, man.” Lucas shrugs at him, looking mildly annoyed.
Even Mike is frowning at Eddie as he nods in agreement. “Yeah, he’s a douchebag, but he’s like, our douchebag.” The way Mike says the word is much more affectionate than the way Eddie had done a moment before. It’s a strange tone to hear in the younger boy’s voice.
Both kids slouch off at that, and Eddie feels suitably chastised. He stands there, hands in pockets for an embarrassingly long time, watching as Steve grabs up Lucas in a playful headlock and gently punches Mike’s arm when they reach him, then he walks around the car to chuck all three boys’ bags in the trunk.
“Good day, shitheads?” He says in an indulgent voice, as he moves to the driver side door.
The kids grumble noncommittally back at him, all clamouring to get in the car; Dustin and Lucas seem to be having a silent battle over the front passenger seat. Steve pauses, mid-reach for the door handle, then shifts to face them, moving his hands to his hips.
“Hey, dipshits, I’m talking to you - good day?” The word dipshits is said with so much warmth, that Steve might as well have just called them sons.
“Yes, mom.” They chorus back, and Steve snorts out a laugh, pulling his sunglasses back down onto his face. He starts to duck into the car, before standing back up and pointing an accusing finger at Dustin.
“No way Henderson, you were shotgun on the way here this morning. Sinclair’s turn, dude. Shift it.” He scolds and Dustin looks at him in mock offence.
“Steve.” He says, pulling out the vowels in his name into an imploring whine.
“Don’t argue with me, Henderson. Back seat. Now.” He’s staring Dustin down over the rims of his Ray-bans like an annoyed parent and what the actual fuck is happening?
Dustin grumbles, but he and Lucas swap places - the latter smirking smugly, the former giving him a shoulder barge as he clambers in beside Mike - and then Steve shouts at them all to buckle up, and fuck. Eddie is still staring at them, jaw slightly slack with shock.
He shakes his head to clear it as he starts toward his van on the far side of the parking lot.
“No Mayfield again?” He hears Steve ask quietly, as Eddie passes the open window of his car.
“She said she’d rather skate home.” Lucas’ voice sounds dejected and a little bit lost, and Eddie glances at Steve to catch him shake his head sadly and pat Lucas sympathetically on the shoulder, before shifting the car into reverse with his hand resting over the back of the passenger seat like a goddamn soccer mom, as he looks through the back window.
Eddie sits in his van long after every other car leaves that afternoon and tries to piece together exactly what it was he just saw.
Steve Harrington, babysitter of nerds? It just didn’t fit. The affectionate way he had interacted with those damn kids was like a disgruntled older brother, all begrudgingly fond and exasperated. Scolding them like they were his own fucking children; the whole thing makes Eddie’s head spin with confusion.
He’s still desperately trying to work it out when he finally pulls out of the school parking lot and doesn’t get any closer to understanding by the time he gets home. And if he stays up well into the small hours of the morning, running over the downright joyful image of Steve Harrington making those three kids smile and laugh so much, well it’s nobody’s business but his own.
The next day, Eddie seeks Dustin out at lunch. The kid seemed more irritated with him than the other two; he had barely even acknowledged Eddie when he said hello before class that morning and Eddie doesn’t like that he’d hurt his feelings, the thought sits heavy and bitter in his chest, restricting his breath.
“Hey, bud.” He drops his lunch box down on the table next to Dustin’s tray with a clatter. “This seat taken?”
Dustin shakes his head, but otherwise stays quiet.
“How was the arcade?” Eddie ventures, a little hesitantly as he swings to sit opposite.
“Fine.” Dustin mutters, shrugging.
Well shit.
“Look man, I’m sorry- I didn’t mean to rag on your friend.” Eddie says, making sure to keep his tone placating.
“It’s okay.” Dustin murmurs and Eddie frantically scrambles for something else to say.
“You guys seem… close.” He settles on. He means to phrase it as a question, but it comes out more of a statement. Dustin answers anyway.
“Yeah, I guess. He saved my- he’s helped me a lot in the last couple years.”
Eddie doesn’t miss the slip up but elects not to mention it; instead files it away to ponder over later. He wonders how exactly Steve Harrington of all people had saved this kid’s what - life? Was it simply teenage dramatics, or something deeper?
“Wheeler and Sinclair too?” Eddie asks, instead of delving any deeper into that line of questioning.
“Yeah. And our friends Will and El. The ones who moved away over summer. And Max… he was also there for her. For all of us.” Dustin’s voice sounds so heavy, so much older than a fourteen year old has any right to be and it makes Eddie blink in surprise. What exactly had this kid been through?
“Max Mayfield, right? Redhead, skates everywhere?” Eddie asks, thinking back to Steve mentioning her name the afternoon before. He thought he’d recognised it.
“Yeah.” Dustin’s voice is still wary. Eddie keeps going, determined to get the kid to talk to him again.
“She moved into the trailer park a month back. Suppose she’s kind of my neighbour.”
Dustin nods but still says nothing. Eddie tries again: “So, tell me what’s so great about Harrington then.”
He doesn’t really know why he says it, it’s not like Eddie cares about the old King of Hawkins High; Steve Harrington is an asshole. That’s just a fact of life. The sky is blue, high school is pointless, Steve Harrington is a dickhead.
But Eddie likes this kid, likes all of them actually. Sees lost little fourteen year old him in each of them and is desperate to be for them what that version of himself never had; someone to look out for him and keep the bullies off his back, to deflect the nasty words and rough shoves up against locker doors.
Dustin turns to look at him, a small smile on his lips, his eyes softening, and bingo.
“Steve’s like- he’s just a badass, man.” He shrugs like it’s no big deal, but Eddie can see the stark admiration shining in Dustin’s eyes and Jesus the kid really is all out hero worshipping the guy.
“He’s sort of like the big brother I always wanted.” Dustin says it softly, testing the words as if he’s never admitted it aloud to anyone before, and Eddie is bewildered. Because he’s still Eddie, and Steve’s still Steve, but Dustin is one of the smartest people he’s ever met, and he’s talking about Harrington like the guy hung the moon.
“Okay, so like, how did you even meet him?” He asks, instead of saying something stupid or mean like: Screw Harrington, I could be that for you Henderson, or Sorry, little dude. What a shit brother to end up with.
Dustin looks away from Eddie for a moment, shifting in his seat, as if debating how much to say.
“He dated Mike’s sister.” Is what he settles on, but Eddie has the feeling there’s a whole lot more to it than just that.
But - ah, of course. Nancy Wheeler. Her and Harrington were Hawkins High’s very own it couple of 1984, right up until she ditched Steve for Jonathan Byers of all people.
“And what? He liked her so much that he started playing DnD with you gremlins on the reg?” Eddie is incredulous, because surely the fuck not.
Dustin snorts.
“Nah, Steve hates DnD.” Dustin says with a snort, and yeah. Duh. Eddie thought so, but if not DnD then what exactly bonded them all together? “Also, you play DnD with us gremlins on the reg, Eddie. Don’t act like it’s some ridiculous thing.” Dustin continues.
“Well, I’m… different.” He settles on, before continuing, “Okay, so. Steve dates Nancy, then Nancy breaks up with him, and he just starts babysitting her younger brother and his friends for what, fun?”
The corner of Dustin’s mouth shrugs up into a small wry smile.
“Not really, he just - he helped me out when… my cat was lost. Traipsed through the woods with me all weekend, helped me look. Then he drove me to a dance. Showed me how to do my hair, helped me get ready. Gave me advice on ladies and shit. The rest is history.” Dustin shrugs again like it’s nothing special, but he’s smiling like it’s the most important thing that’s ever happened to him.
The thought of Steve helping a kid like Dustin get ready for a middle school dance of all things is honestly ridiculous, but Eddie lets it go.
“Ladies and shit?” He says, with a raised eyebrow instead. Dustin beams and Eddie feels like he needs to shift his entire world view because how could he exist in a universe where Steve Harrington makes a kid like Dustin smile like that?
“Yeah.” Dustin blows out a deep breath, still smiling wildly. “I don’t know what else to tell you, Eddie. Steve’s my friend.”
“Okay. Okay. I surrender. Steve Harrington is off limits.” He tries not to think about the double meaning in those words. “I won’t say another bad word against him again.” He holds his hand against his chest in a dramatic gesture. “Scout's honour.”
Well, he won’t say anything within earshot of Dustin, but what the kid doesn’t know won’t hurt him.
Dustin scoffs. "You were a scout?" he asks, disbelieving.
Eddie grins.
"Nope." he pops the p obnoxiously, dropping the kid an exaggerated wink, who laughs and rolls his eyes and Eddie feels lighter than he had all morning. That bitter heavy regret lifting from his chest completely, and he can breathe again.
Over the following weeks, He keeps an eye out whenever Steve picks up the kids after school. It isn’t every day, and it doesn’t seem to have any pattern to it (other than Tuesday arcade nights, of course). Sometimes the kids cycle off on their bikes and other times Steve is there, leaning casually against his car with those goddamn sunglasses pushed up into his stupid hair.
It’s after Hellfire Club one evening in late September, when Steve speaks to Eddie for the first time.
“Hey, Munson.” He mutters, throwing a small polite smile his way, and flicking the burnt end of a cigarette to the floor as the boys swarm toward his car.
Eddie grunts. “Harrington,” he says with a nod, before lighting up his own cigarette and jumping into his van.
He sits there for a lot longer than he would ever admit to anyone, watching as Steve ruffles a begrudging Mike’s hair - which is a feat in itself because that kid is lanky - before he does this frankly outrageously dorky handshake with Dustin, which seems to include lightsabres of all fucking things, while Lucas watches on laughing. Eddie doesn’t know why the sight makes his heart flutter.
Stupid fucking Harrington, and his stupid fucking hair.
Steve says hello in some capacity every time he sees Eddie after that. Always raises his hand in a half wave when he’s meeting the kids after school or Hellfire or smiling at him politely over their heads. It’s never anything particularly friendly, but it’s not frosty either, just civil. Almost like Steve’s trying to make an effort for the kids’ sake. Like he and Eddie goddamn divorced parents or something, handing their children off to each other for the weekend.
It’s fucking weird.
Eddie doesn’t hate it. And he hates that.