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“You aren’t going to combust? Being this deep into suburbia?”
Gareth would be funnier if he’d let the set up to his little punchline breathe a little bit; but that’s why Eddie is the wordsmith and Gareth backs his shit. Ironic though, since Gareth is the drummer that his timing is so shit.
“Unless you worship Betty Crocker, don’t think this is considered hallowed ground.”
Eddie absolutely, one thousand percent is not giving Gareth the credit for knowing that this whole side of town skeeves him out. He can practically feel the June Cleavers and Gladys Kravitz-es peeking out their curtains in disdain at the sight of his van driving down their pristine little Stepford street.
He wanted to do this at Steve’s place, not that the stares he got when he visited there were any better, but the neighbors were starting to get used to the sight of the van parked next to Steve’s sporty, little beemer. He hasn’t had the cops called about him being there since April, though that could have as much to do with Steve and Chief Hopper both politely letting the neighbors know that Eddie is an invited guest not someone who was casing the place.
Any and all concerns about what he might be doing to Steve were maybe a little more warranted, but Eddie never tied them to anything unless they asked really, really nice first.
But Steve had a follow up interview at that ice cream place in the mall --why a fucking minimum wage job needed more than one interview Eddie wouldn’t know -- and was already going to be late without having to stress about playing perfect hostess. And Eddie was willing to put up with a little bit of discomfort for the sake of a good dramatic moment, not having it at Castle Harrington so Steve playing can be a big reveal does appeal to his baser nature.
“Not even two weeks into the summer and Shepherd Munson has found more lost sheep,” Jeff shouts from the back, only three of them fit on the bench seat of the van and he always claims it makes him less carsick to starfish out in the back.
“Working overtime,” Gareth agrees.
“I know their babysitter, alright,” Eddie gripes. Decidedly not a drummer, the beat Eddie has started on the steering wheel is clumsy at best but it helps to hold the panic at bay a little. He’s been planning this adventure since March, planning it seriously since May, and he’s only just now considering that it might not be such a good idea.
“Oh, yeah? She the one that gave you all those hickeys,” Jeff teases.
“Vampirella,” Joey does something complicated with his face that communicates exactly nothing to Eddie but still manages to leave him a little grossed out and a lot confused at how he’s the one everyone calls the Freak.
And he knows, okay, he knows that Gareth is looking at him out of the side of his head because he can feel it. Can feel it and is letting his aversion to any kind of prolonged eye contact take the wheel on this one, cause Gareth knows. Gareth knows that Eddie is an out and out homo the same way that Eddie knows he’s some kind of queer too.
Gareth is his ride or die, so it’s not like he’s worried that shit is gonna go completely sideways. It’s just the rest of the group that’s maybe a tossup. Cause Steve is coming to Hellfire and he’s gonna come out to his kids and Eddie to Hellfire and everything is definitely going to be fine.
“What kind of Freshmen need babysitters?” Jeff asks.
Joey trampling over it with, “Is she why we can’t have it at Gareth’s place this summer?”
“One of the kids is Chief Hopper’s step-son,” Eddie offers. It felt like answer enough for him, but the lingering silence seemed to suggest it wasn’t, “The Byers kid that was, like, missing, presumed dead in ‘83.”
That shuts them all up for a bit.
Gareth still has his thinking face on, the one that makes him look a little bit constipated and a little bit like he’s just calling Eddie a rat bastard in his head over and over. He’s used to seeing it, of course, but usually it’s not until the campaign has actually started instead of the drive over. The silence makes him want to crawl out of his skin and dance away on his little skeleton feet, but he settles for his drum beat.
Maybe he can write a song to go along with it. Don’t Let the Band Meet the Boy.
Except that sounds more like something Steve would listen to than actual metal, shit.
The Wheeler house is a perfect picture of suburbia from the ugly manicured lawn to the Regan sign in the yard. If it hadn’t taken three references and a “remember how I was abducted leaving your house” from Baby Byers to get Karen Wheeler to even consider letting Eddie in her house he would rip the stupid sign out of the ground; but he was dating the future president of the PTA Eddie could practice his gladhanding early, for Steve.
“Nancy Wheeler.” It was genuinely concerning him, how a single trip into the uncharted terrain of the suburbs had turned Joey into a person only capable of stringing together single word sentences. He might be marginally better at tone than Robin, but this was giving him absolutely nothing to go on.
“Yeah, Queen Nancy is the babysitter and I’m next in line for King Steve’s vacated throne,” Jeff laughs.
“Shut up!”
And fucking Gareth is looking at him. Again . Like Eddie is being weird, or weirder than usual, while the others are riffing about the start of another Munson meltdown. It’s a lot, suddenly. To be in a new place, about to introduce four new cogs into his intricately balanced party. About to shove a Steve shaped rod into the cogs that he’s already got; and normally he feels very positively about his Steve shaped rod but now it’s just one more piece to a puzzle that isn"t coming together.
Eddie has never once canceled a session of Hellfire, he’s never rescheduled. He’s DM’d with a scratchy throat and a 100 degree fever. He’s made his friends get subs or play with characters missing. But once a session is on the books it’s a moving train that can’t be stopped, come hell or high water a session will be played.
Except for today when an offhand comment about Steve has proved to be the final button needed for an overload. And there’s not a single thing Eddie can think to do to stop the shaking in his fingers or the thing that’s squeezing the back of his throat so tight he’s not sure if he wants to scream or never talk again. But he needs to talk because if he can’t talk he can’t tell everyone to pack up and go home, that haha wasn’t this a funny joke schlepping it out to the Republican-ist part of town in his beat up van and their devil shirts ready to play a game that you need scratch paper for.
Then a curtain twitches. And Carol Brady isn’t standing in the window with her pitchfork ready, Aunt Bea isn’t fluffing her hair to tell the nightly news about the devil worshipers she fought from the neighborhood, Will Byers’ fluffy brown bowl cut does, however, peek out for a split second. It’s enough to cut through his mounting wall of panic to remind him why he’s really here, to save baby Byers from becoming the forever DM.
It was too late for Eddie, cursed as he was by his creative genius and crippling fear that all of his friends would stop hanging out with him if they had to put in even the barest amount of work to set up a campaign. He’d cemented himself as Eddie the DM and he was fine with that really, wouldn’t know what to do with himself if he wasn’t in control of all the pieces on the board, but seeing broken hearted little Byers in the backseat of Steve’s car awestruck and hopeful that there was in fact DnD after middle school broke a little bit of something in him. So he could keep his shit together long enough to show a bunch of babies that it’s not dice or dates.
Three pairs of eyes are watching him like Eddie’s a bomb ready to explode: wary, excited, resigned. And sure everything still feels like a bit too much but his nails biting into the palms of his hands are a little grounding. He breathes in, the kind of deep inhale he saves for when he’s trying to get well and truly high, lets it hiss out from behind his teeth counting down from eight like he’s seen Steve do after a nightmare.
The sun’s a little less bright, his throat still burns but loosens enough that he thinks he might be able to squeeze out a word or two. “What are we standing around out here for, the game’s inside.”
They sneak around the back to a door that leads straight into the basement, normally something Eddie would rail against: the innate classism of not letting the kid from the trailer park use the front door, but for all his cracks about suburbia Gareth’s mom only lived a couple streets over. And it’s not like he’s exactly jonesing to figure out which of the Wheelers is the Reagan supporter.
Before he can even manage his most annoying knock, the door swings open. Hellfire is greeted by the pissiest looking freshman Eddie has ever seen; even without the collage of photos that Steve keeps on his wall, without the informal introduction on the first night they met, Eddie would know that this is Mike Wheeler.
“Cute, you make the same prissy little bitch face your sister does.” Which is true, if he had a picture of the face Lady Wheeler had spent all of their only study session making -- and all because Eddie was being a helpful boyfriend and copying the flashcards she made out of the, unfairly gorgeous, cursive she preferred and into something Steve could actually read -- it would be identical, but definitely not what Eddie meant to say to the kid on first meeting.
The rest of the party think it’s funny. Their laughter greets him as he pushes past a now slack jawed Wheeler into a basement that smells like the worst parts of puberty. Eddie’s concern for Will is waning under the thought of having to spend several hours here among the smell.
He pushes through it. “Henderson, my man!”
“Eddie, this is going to be so sick, dude. We haven’t played a real campaign in like forever.”
“I wonder why,” Will snarks.
“Aw none of that, Baby Byers, I’m here now.”
He goes to ruffle that gorgeous dome of hair when his hand gets smacked away. “I have a name, I’m not going through four years of high school getting called that.”
“My humblest apologies, Will the Wise, consider it stricken.”
Leaving him with one kid left to impress, he figures Wheeler is a lost cause but 3 out of 4 ain’t bad. Sinclair hasn’t gotten up from the couch watching the group with the look of a kid who knows that someone can go from being very cool to very not with just a word.
“Which leaves me with one Lucas Sinclair, if I’m not mistaken.”
“Nice to meet you, man.”
“Alright kiddies, meet Hellfire,” he turns to gesture to his three friends who haven’t even made it through the door yet. “Excuse them, they aren’t house broken yet apparently. Wheeler doesn’t bite,” the kid flashes a smile that has Eddie a little concerned about the accuracy of that, “get in here or we’re never gonna get this show on the road.”
That spurns them into enough action that Eddie thinks they’ll be able to fend for themselves. “Henderson, where’d you put the stuff I gave you?”
The setup is smaller than he’s gotten used to working with. Being able to use the Drama department’s storage room has been nice, but there is something refreshing in getting back to basics even if the stack of graph paper maps and tackle box full of minis he sent with Henderson take up the entire table.
“For the record, I didn’t peek, your messenger was very clear that it would result in excommunication from the group which is basically social suicide.”
The last of Eddie’s lingering tension melts off as he laughs, Henderson is a riot, only a real nerd would think not being in Hellfire is social suicide. “Oh man, buddy, I’m sorry some wires must’ve crossed. What I actually said was ‘if you peek everyone’s challenge rating is going up and you’ll make every roll with disadvantage and a negative modifier.’”
He cackles as Dustin lights off, face paler than it was before Eddie started speaking. Good, Stevie may let the kids walk all over him but Eddie has a reputation to maintain.
All of his little cogs start meshing while Eddie gets his maps stacked in their correct order. He rustles with them more than he needs to, hems and haws over which minis need to come out and which stay like he hasn’t had every potential conflict planned out for weeks, so he can give them all time to feel each other out.
A thundering starts beside his head before he can call the table to order. That tension he was feeling creeps back in, throat tightening and a pulsing no wrong starts at the back of his head.
Until a child’s chorus of, “Max!” breaks out and he melts, plan still safely in place.
“You’re a long way from the trailer park, Little Red,” he says for lack of anything better to explain the way he’s staring at her like she shot his dog.
“So are you, Munson.”
“Did you skate here?” Lucas asks, pulling the heat away with his barely disguised concern.
“Half way, then mom saw me and brought me the rest of the way.”
“Susan’s here?” Lucas’ tone set off enough alarm bells that Eddie wondered if he didn’t need to be keeping a closer eye on his neighbor.
She snorts, “Other mom.”
“Are they gonna stay?” Dustin asks, the kid might as well be bouncing on his toes waiting for the answer.
Red shrugs, “Depends on how long Karen keeps her claws in.”
Lucas snorts, “That’s not gonna make Billy like ‘em anymore.”
“Can we not talk about Billy trying to fuck my mom?” Mike asks.
“I hate to agree with Mike on… anything but I don’t want to think about how Billy wants to make me his new aunt.”
The thought gives Eddie the willies too, leads his mind to dangerous places like how Karen Wheeler might have a taste for bad boys and might have been just fine letting him in the front door. He shudders.
“Alright kiddies, are we gonna stand around talking about Mrs. Wheeler’s taste in meat or are we gonna play DnD?”
The round of groans that comment earns him are delicious, he’s probably cemented himself as Mike Wheeler’s least favorite person but if Steve’s to be believed at least he’s in good company.
“Hurry up, gather round, so we may find ourselves in Neverwinter.” This is maybe one of the most intricate oneshots Eddie’s ever built, sharing as much information with the party ahead of time so they could craft characters that would likely never be seen again. His usual threesome were content with being tossed in a dungeon and left to fight their way out during Eddie’s hiatus season as he crafts his school year long campaign; but this was his debut for, well, a lot of things but mainly it was his first time playing with what Steve fondly called the Party. He wanted to impress.
And maybe he also hadn’t been able to stop daydreaming about the lore of this stupid world ever since Steve Harrington looked at him with those dreamy hazel eyes and asked if there was a fantasy nail bat.
His daydreams about why Steve would favor that particular metal ass weapon were very different.
Henderson may not have peeked at the maps, but what Eddie really hoped was that in the time between finalizing everyone"s character backstories that the kids hadn’t blabbed about the lore and secrets he’d been parsing out like birthday presents. Juicy little bits of courtly gossip, whispers from outside the kingdom, and rumors about ways back inside the gates of the kingdom that had banished all but one of them.
Will Byers, the prodigy that Eddie had been dreaming of since the last time he thought he would get to graduate, made Jonathan bring him by Eddie’s so he could discuss his character’s inevitable doublecross of the main party. It was delicious -- and maybe Dustin or Lucas will see it coming if they don’t get too wrapped up in something dumb, but they all still think of me as fragile this will totally show them.
Now, gathered around the Wheeler’s discarded coffee table perched on a chair that must have been stolen from the kitchen table and doing his best not to knock knees with Gareth, Eddie set the scene.
“Neverwinter, haven for refugees of fallen kingdoms and those banished from the conquering. A city where three groups converge, pulled by need and by rumor of a rising insurrection. Banished from your homeland by a vicious tyrant, each of you have been called, drawn to what you hope is a crusade for change. Here in Neverwinter a rebellion is brewing, the whispers of it hang in the air on the lips of the people and in the song of the city.
“You find yourselves in an inn.”
It’s a little stereotypical, like a human fighter, but the classics are classics for a reason.
He lets them slowly start to intermingle before he drops the plot. Byers has a quiet theatricality to him, the first to move once Eddie drops the opportunity for role play, he draws Wheeler"s paladin, Sinclair"s ranger, and Henderson"s barbarian with quiet words, half truths, and trailing sentences until the Party banned together at one table without an Insight roll in sight.
The Hellfire trio show a restraint Eddie can"t help but be a little proud of. Letting the kids take their time without trying to barrel on to the main plot like they normally would. Their faces are unmistakably fond already, and Eddie likes to think they"re remembering their own time as underclassmen first playing DnD.
Henderson is the one who swaggers over to breach the gap between the rest of the party, affecting a boyish, devil may care character voice that"s strange for a barbarian. The attitude isn"t that strange for Henderson but the tone scratches at a place at the back of Eddie"s brain, so familiar yet not. He watches the kid brush away a comment Jeff’s rogue assassin makes with a flick of his hand, a tick that Eddie is very familiar with.
Dustin Henderson, Rathington the barbarian, a former nobleman cast out of the court for his soft spot for kids. Who favors a large wooden club in combat if his character sheet is to be believed, and has a charisma score that is frankly ridiculous for a barbarian.
And come to think of it, Wheeler"s paladin, Harithal the Righteous, is looking a little Steve adjacent too with the pageantry and heart.
It’s so cute he wants to bite something.
“The rumors have to come from somewhere,” Jeff’s comment snaps him out of his thoughts of Steve’s trail of ducklings.
Snaps him right back into the character he’s supposed to be right now. Four wide sets of freshman eyes dart to him as a laugh bubbles, cackles, out of his chest; the other three are too used to his dramatics at this point.
A little bit of home creeps back into his voice when he’s Edmund. That little bit of drawl that Wayne held onto but Eddie can’t seem to keep authentically, too long in this midwestern hellhole. “You would think that wouldn’t you.”
“Come on, what’s this guy’s stealth,” Joey complains, “my passive should have let me know someone was there.”
“You’re in a crowded room, kiddies, unless you’re whispering there’s always the chance someone’s gonna hear.”
“Well who is he?” Mike asks.
“Now we’re getting somewhere.Tucked into a darkened corner at the table next to you sits a cloaked figure, his hood is up disguising his features but he strums at a lute that he’s got tucked in his lap.” He doesn’t have his guitar, a shame, but manages a soft, “‘They say in Harringshire / There are no neutrals there / You’ll either be a rebel man / Or a thug in the King’s lair.’”
Jeff speaks, “Are you the Bard?”
“Among other things.”
“We’ve also fled from the court,” Will chimes, god he loves this kid. Just the right amount of devious to keep the plot on track.
He lets them talk some more, arguing back at them mostly just because he can. It’s his own fatal flaw, contrarian until death, but he thinks a rebel leader probably has to be a little cautious. Especially if that leader is just a cooler stand-in version of himself. They were always going to succeed, the plot demanded it, but a choice crit from Lucas when he was backing a play from Mike gave him a window to crawl through. “‘Alright, sure, I’ll admit it. I’m the voice in the ear of the people. The brains if you will, if you’re really interested in fighting back we could use a few more capable hands for our next outing.’” Eddie laughs, for a second he feels so removed from himself that he’s unrecognizable, he can hear that nervous brittle laugh and wonders why Edmund is so nervous. It’s not like he’s about to out himself to the only three friends he has.
“‘I say we,’” he continues, “‘I’m not allowed out in the field anymore, dreadful business with the wrong end of an assassin’s sword, but you can accompany my right hand. So long as you promise to bring them back in one piece. They’re mine in more ways than one.’”
A barrage of questions follows:
Mike, “What does that mean?”
Dustin, “Where are they?”
Joey, “What’s she look like?”
Jeff, “Is she here now?”
And this was supposed to be where Steve came down. Answers prepared for all of those questions and more, but as the questions slow and Eddie stays silent there is no Steve. So he improvs.
""They take their time in the mornings, it"s hard, so I"m told, being both the fairest in the land and the fiercest warrior. Something none of you would understand either by the looks of you.""
"Why are all the badass ladies always taken," Joey laments.
"Yeah, can’t imagine why Eddie wouldn’t want to pretend to flirt with you, Freak." Gareth says.
Eddie"s smile is knife sharp, he knows cause he practices it in the mirror. "Full disclosure boys, this is where our special guest was supposed to join us."
“You think he finally convinced Robin to play?” Joey asks, leaning into Gareth’s space like he was telling some kind of secret.
“Robin,” Dustin perks up fully invested in the speculation now, how Eddie could have forgotten that the kid had decided that Steve and Robin were destined for eachother when his boyfriend complained about it at least once a week was beyond him.
“Who is even less likely to flirt with you than Eddie,” Gareth says.
“She said she would sooner eat the dice before you’d get her to play.” Jeff reminds, he’s Robin’s favorite for a reason and the smile stretched across his face that says he’d help her feed them to Joey is why.
"Could be Chrissy," Joey suggests with a leer that makes Eddie mad on Robin"s behalf.
"She came to one band practice," Gareth continues to play the voice of reason.
The speculation dies down but as the silence builds so does the roiling anxiety in Eddie’s gut. “Let"s try this again. "We"re preparing to embark on a mission that could end the Carvers reign of terror and colonization for good. If you accept you"ll be joined by my tactician on your quest."" The silence doesn"t hang as long this time, knee bouncing so hard it kisses the table on its upswing. It"s now or never. He calls, "And if our special guest was listening, that was their cue they just missed for the second time.”
“Yeah, yeah, keep it in your pants, Eds, I’m coming.”
Descending into the tides of chaos he helped create comes Steve, still wearing the dweeby polo he went to his interview in that makes Eddie’s heart skip a beat. There’s a beat of silence as they come into view of the rest of the group, he assumes it’s silence anyway since all Eddie can hear is the thud of his heartbeat in his ears.
In the wake of Steve’s surprise round comes:
“Steve!” The kids in varying tones of excitement, Dustin the most, and confusion, Lucas, Will and Max, and disdain, Mike.
“What the fuck?” Jeff.
“King Steve is the babysitter?” Joey.
It’s too hard to distinguish anything else that they say, too busy talking overtop of each other to really care what anyone else is saying. Steve perches on the arm of the sofa, positioning himself between Eddie and Dustin.
At his heart, despite his dramatics and lunchtime speeches, Eddie knows he’s a coward. He keeps his eyes locked on Steve, who in turn has kept his eyes on Henderson nodding along with whatever is leaving the kid’s mouth at a mile a minute. If he looks at his friends right now, he would have to come to terms with what’s next.
So he looks at Steve, the too relaxed swing of his arms that doesn’t hide the tight line of his shoulders. The purse of his mouth that makes it clear he knows the older teens aren"t happy he"s there.
“You"re going to play DnD, really?" Dustin looks at Steve like this is Christmas and his birthday rolled into one.
"Is this some kind of fucked up drug deal? A discount for debasing yourself in DnD."
"What the fuck would that even look like, Jeff,” Eddie snaps, “and fuck you debasing yourself if you"ve got a problem with the game no one"s making you play."
"But you"re making him? Cause why the fuck else would King Douche be here?" Joey"s outrage is surprising, or maybe it"s not. Eddie"s spent so much time this week imaging worst case scenarios he"s not sure this is even really happening.
"Hey," five semi-feral Freshmen are snarling at the group now. In all the worst cases he imagined the worst he thought they"d do was snark, maybe get their feelings hurt that not everyone liked their pseudo mom the way they did. He didn"t expect the simmering anger that bled with the same danger that oozed off of Steve. In all of his worst cases, he never planned for Max on the edge of a beanbag in the corner looking ready for a scrap.
"It"s fine," Steve is a mediator at heart. He doesn"t like it when people are upset, likes it even less if he thinks it"s his fault somehow, "I can go."
"The fuck you will," Eddie"s own anger surprises him. It"s not like he expected this to go smoothly. It"s not like he thought the guys would see Steve and immediately be cool with the guy who had once sneered at them in the halls and stood behind the guy who smacked books out of their hands and shoulder checked them into lockers. It"s not even like he didn"t feel the same way about Steve just a couple months ago.
But maybe he thought they"d show him the benefit of the doubt. That they"d trust that Eddie wouldn"t bring someone untrustworthy into the inner sanctum.
"This campaign doesn"t exist without Harrington. He doesn"t play, nobody does."
So God has spoken, so it shall be.
"Steve is cool," Henderson adds, petulant the way only a fourteen year old can be.
"Yeah, I bet," Joey says.
And okay Eddie knows why Steve says the kids like him. He"s a free source of rides. He"s someone who isn"t related to any of them, who"s older and therefore at least sorta cool. He"s got a big empty house with a big empty pool and a big not so empty wallet. And Eddie was willing to accept that maybe that was all it was. Until:
"Steve got a concussion saving me from Billy." Lucas.
"He saved me from a pack of feral dogs." Dustin.
"He"s kept me safe since I got here." Max.
"Steve saved my-" Will and Mike speak over each other brother and sister mangling into a jumble but they both end with claims of life saving.
Stories that Eddie absolutely believes and has never once heard. Stories Steve waves away with that same wrist flick that Dustin had emulated not even an hour before. "You"re all exaggerating."
Even if they are, it"s enough that the rest of the group looks chastened.
"Let"s just play." The sound of Gareth"s voice is jarring as its reappearance is sudden. A cold grip takes hold of Eddie"s insides that he can"t explain.
The reminder of the game, what they"re doing jars everyone back into action. "Right, yes. The table is joined by a fighter in shining plate mail, sitting beside the Bard you all are now looking at the whole resistance group. "My bonny soldier boy arrives at last.""
Despite it all Steve still manages a smile for him, ""Told you I had things to do, Eds.""
He starts to think that maybe they"re in the clear. Maybe they"ll get through this when Wheeler speaks.
"Wait, are they together? Steve, you know this is a dude right?"
The room holds its breath, or maybe that"s just Eddie projecting.
It’s not like he was particularly subtle, in fact the point was not to be. Maybe he secretly hoped that implication and innuendo would be enough that everyone would get the hint, and the two of them wouldn’t have to actually say something that could get them killed. An edge of plausible deniability to keep them both safe in Hawkins fucking Indiana.
The cat has been let out of the bag, the can opener finished with the worms, even Will’s hissed, “Michael!” isn’t enough to keep the train on these tracks.
Steve, mother of the year, takes it in stride. That placid, neutral face he uses when he doesn’t want the kids to know what he’s really thinking doesn’t keep Eddie from noticing the way their fists clench under the table. That panic doesn’t enter his voice, steady and confidant as ever, “Mike, we can have a longer conversation about sexuality later. But yes, I’m aware he’s a dude. Eddie and I are together, for real in real life not just the game.”
For a second all he can hear is the blood rushing in his ears. It’s out there. Steve motherfucking Harrington, the bravest man Eddie knows, has just claimed Eddie as his own, outing himself to three strangers and five of the people that matter most to him in the entire world. And the silence they’ve gotten in response is deafening.
“So,” Eddie tries, but it’s timid and meek. The clap of his hands would make that shit they do for golf sound thunderous. Face contorting into something that feels unfamiliar, a facial response he hasn’t practiced but he fears might be terror.
"I don"t know what"s worse,” a whisper would have cut through the quiet of the room, and Gareth’s speaking voice sounds like a shout now. He’s almost too stunned to feel hurt that this is the response they’re getting, but Gareth isn’t done, “that you threatened to kill my cleric to impress Steve fucking Harrington or that it actually fucking worked .”
Silence, shorter, waiting to see what will happen. Eddie feels removed from his body, sees the kids settle back into their seats a little willing to wait now, it seems, for Steve’s word on whether his honor needs defending fists still clenched, little freshmen faces contorted into snarls and glares.
"It was pretty hot." Quiet enough to seem shy, loud enough that it’s clear it was still intentional, Steve adds his two cents to the matter.
The edges of that schoolboy smile creep onto their face and Eddie can’t help but laugh. Brilliant Steve who plays the idiot but knows just what to say to turn the tide in the direction he wants.
Now that panic isn’t a flame licking at the edges of Eddie’s brain, he does remember Gareth at the arcade. A voyeur on the edges of the awkward start of first date, "In my defense the night before he almost broke Carver"s arm for trying to call me a f-"
"Eddie!" Steve cuts an eye over to the couch full of not yet Freshmen.
“For trying to be a dick,” he corrects. “Didn’t think it’d hurt your feelings that bad if I tried a little white knighting of my own.”
Scrubbing a rough hand down the back of his neck, Steve says, "For what it"s worth, and I know it"s not much, I"m sorry for the guy I was in high school."
Confused but not unkind, this seems to satisfy the guys who watch Steve with the same wariness they watched Jeff’s last girlfriend with when he brought her to band practice. He can almost see the way King Steve has been demoted to the Babysitter in their minds, an interloper who only needs to be judged on whether or not he’s good enough for Eddie.
Steve doesn’t get off as easy, the kids clamoring for his attention all at once. Fragments of questions making it through the noise to Eddie.
“-take us on your first date?”
“-campaign now?”
“-beat Hopper to the shovel-"
But clear above it all is Mike Wheeler once again, "Why do you have to put your dick in every cool, older kid we know?"
Slack jawed, everyone older than fourteen just stares.
Blinking thoughtfully, eyes wide and not so innocent, Will adds, "He hasn"t fucked Jonathan yet."
Eddie, who doesn’t appreciate that yet, scoffs. That seems to snap Steve out of it finally, "First of all, disgusting, I expected better of you, William. Second, Wheeler I"m gonna tell Nancy you said she was cool and then I"m gonna tell her exactly what you said." Mike visibly pales at that threat.
Never one to resist a chance to make Stevie blush, Eddie decides he should finish the list off, "And third, I actually-"
"Edmund Wayne Munson." The playground sound of children jeering at someone else getting in trouble choruses around him. Oh, but what a pretty shade of red he turned.
"Sorry, Sweetheart."
"That is more than I have ever wanted to know about either of you." Gareth complains.
Face buried deep in his hands, Steve"s response is a muffled, "Weren"t we here to play Dungeons and Dragons, or is this my divine punishment for high school?"
“You were telling us about the resistance plot,” Joey of all people adds, having moved on to the acceptance stage of Eddie dating Steve much faster than everyone else.
“Thank god,” Steve sighs.
“Alright fine,” Eddie agrees. It"s been a stressful enough day for all of them, he really doesn’t want to give Steve too hard a time. “‘Now that we’ve all arrived we can discuss the quest you’ll be embarking on.’”
“We’re going to kill the king,” blunt to the point, Sir Stephan everyone.
“Steve!”
“What we are, what’s the point in dancing around it.”
“Well it’s treason, for one.”
“It isn’t here, and anyway I think plotting political assassination is where you stop worrying about treason.”
“You could still dress it up a little.”
“Sorry, Eds, what’s the fantasy way of breaking into a man"s home and killing him cause he’s such a shitty dude.”
Two hands hit the table with enough force to send dice towers scattering and minis fainting to the table. Henderson is looking at them both with all the annoyance of a younger brother being forced to watch his sibling flirt and the rest of the party doesn’t seem much more charitable. “That was my club hitting the table, for the record. Steve, a club-”
“I know what a club is, if you don’t check the attitude I’m telling your mom about the magazine I found in-”
“Alright! Sorry, Jesus, I slam my club against the table so you two stop doing that and say, ‘Dress it up how you want, where are we going and how are we doing it?’”
Eddie is a rules stickler, when the rules aren’t boring and bullshit. They didn’t go through the full roster of Hellfire House Rules today mostly because Eddie is a stickler for everyone but Steve, and it wouldn’t look good to make everyone else pick a character voice and stick to it if he’s just going to let Steve do whatever. Which makes Max Mayfield his new personal hero.
“That’s not the voice you were using before.”
Honestly the kid scares him a little bit, living in a house for as long as she did with a guy like Hargrove has sharpened her into something deadly. So he doesn’t blame Henderson one bit for wavering, honestly Eddie’s pretty damn impressed the kid doesn’t fold completely. He’s red as a tomato but stands his ground with a, “Yeah it is.”
“No, it’s not. Don’t be weird just cause Mom’s here.”
Their stare down is probably just as exciting as anything Eddie has planned for the game. But then he likes a good battle of wills. Henderson never really stood a chance, but the kid put up a good fight. He repeats himself quietly, with his original character voice, but even sitting on Steve’s bad side doesn’t save him.
Head cocked like a confused golden retriever Steve asks the question on everyone’s mind, “Is that supposed to be me?”
“No!”
“Yes!”
“Max!”
“What, it’s not like Mike isn’t playing pretend that he’s Steve too.”
“I am not!”
“Yeah cause Harithal and Rarington were real subtle.”
“It’s Rathington.”
“Guys!” Steve has to shout to be heard, “getting a little sidetracked here, and you’re being rude.” He tips his head toward the Hellfire guys, who have been surprisingly quiet through the interruptions, Eddie is starting to feel all of his cogs settling into place. The senior members of the club getting used to the disruptions of the younger.
“And anyway,” the pursed lips don’t quite hide the smirk that Steve is fighting, “it’s cute, Henderson.”
“He even has the bat.” Max will either never be invited to another session of Hellfire again or be required upon entry, Eddie hasn’t quite decided.
“He even has Gwen Stacy,” Steve agrees.
He’s met with the kind of groans you would expect from a particularly bad joke a parent told.
Jeff is the one that gives in, the real lyricist of Corroded Coffin, has a thing for word play, “Gwen Stacy?”
“She’s a spine breaker.”
“Never be nerdy again,” Dustin pleads “I miss when you were cool and aloof.” Eddie wonders what it must be like to be so young that a comment like that isn’t simultaneously the coolest and hottest thing you’ve ever heard.
“Clearly,” Steve teases, “you’ll just have to play pretend about it.”
“So Harrington,” Gareth unsurprisingly gets fed up with the distractions first, “sorry, what’s your character"s name.”
“Steve.”
“Sir Stephan,” Eddie corrects.
“Right, Edmund of course.” and maybe getting Steve to play with them was a mistake, Eddie is used to striking an appropriate amount of fear into the hearts of his players and Steve is far from appropriately scared.
“Anyway,” Gareth continues, “you’re the kingslayer, really? I cast Know Alignment."
He misses the days when DnD was just a tabletop roleplaying game and not a fucking allegory for his stupid life. Cause it stings a little bit, that Gareth is still sure that Steve in any form is a bad guy who will inevitably betray the cause -- the metaphor gets a little mixed when he tries to figure whether he or queerness is the cause being forsaken. The sting may be soothed by the hopeful thought that this is Gareth’s way of being protective of Eddie and his heart, but it was his first relationship he was going to let himself have the high school experience of feeling unreasonably upset that his friend’s didn’t like his boyfriend.
“On just one person.”
The challenge is in the air, unmistakable even to Steve who smacks Eddie’s knee with the back of their hand still not over the people pleasing part of the day, but he’s thrown his gauntlet and there’s no putting it back on now.
“I can cast it on up to 10 players,” Gareth says, his own gauntlet is on the table. Eddie’s head pounds, jaw clenched so tight he’s going to give himself a headache in the Wheeler’s rank smelling basement.
“Name them.”
“Sir Stephan, Rathington, Leonidas, Mordred, Harithal, Thraxial, Elvalor,” he goes around the circle: Steve, Dustin, Lucas, Will, Mike, Joey, Jeff, and he locks eyes with Eddie sword drawn, "and Edmund."
Well if nothing else, Gareth has at least saved him the trouble of having to make sure they all introduce themselves to Steve. Steve, who has his golden retriever head cocked at Will this time, brow furrowed the way it gets when they’re trying to remember something he"s heard before, "Not Will the Wise?"
"Saving it."
It was perhaps a mistake to move from reading Lord of the Rings together to King Arthur.
"You cast your spell, Garthum, and find your reading blocked. Someone at this table in possession of something powerful that disguises their true alignment. You might be able to overpower it if you cast at a higher level, but I think you know that you"ll have to appeal to your God for that and you know how uncharitable he can be." Eddie being God and his lack of charity extending as much to Steve as it does to him not wanting his plot twist spoiled.
“Anyway,” Joey interrupts with the unnervingly, whistling soft tone he uses for his rogue, “are we getting paid for this gig or what?”
“It’s more of a ‘the quest is its own reward’ sort of thing.” Steve supplies.
“Great.”
And finally they’re off.
Eddie sets the stage for them. A backway into the castle, an exit technically built for the royal family to escape should exactly this sort of thing happen. But a door is a door regardless of its intended purpose. The exit is hidden in the hills along the border of Harringshire and Neverwinter trailing underground to emerge in the halls of the palace. Impossible to find in the crags of the hills, disguised in the natural landscape, unless you happen to have the former Captain of the Guard with you.
Now that the ball was rolling, Eddie was allowing himself a little time to worry; or not worry, to think about how everything was going. Sure, the biggest part of this adventure was over. Steve was here and introduced, he was showing off his new found Dungeons and Dragons skills, really everything else was just gravy. Except for the perfectionist part of him that’s constantly angling to ruin the club for any other Dungeon Master.
That part of him is in agony. The rocky start they’d gotten off to. The fact that he’d let narrative sense keep the party from having an NPC to guide them when they got blocked.
But they don’t get stuck.
The role play, that Eddie usually has to pull out like teeth to fill the time that combat can’t, Steve teases out. The kids are the quickest to respond, they had all written intricate backstories they were obviously eager to share, and once the freshmen started the older members of Hellfire were enticed into at least sharing some of the lore Eddie had come up with.
It keeps them busy enough that Eddie keeps his random encounters to a minimum. An assassin from the same guild as Joey’s that they buy off instead of killing. A horde of tree blights right before the entrance to the passageway they were searching for, just to give them something to kill.
It was all a lead up to his mini boss battle anyway.
“The path widens into a massive cavern, those of you with dark vision can just make out the opposite wall nearly 100 feet away. The cavern floor, however, does not. A craggy divided nearly ten feet across splits the room in two.”
“Can I investigate the room,” Mike, Gareth, and Dustin ask immediately.
He can’t help the snort, “What’s that wisdom mod you’re working with there, Henderson? You sure can try.”
Between the three of them they manage something passable, and it’s a trap anyway he was always going to give them the tools to their own demise.
“Well, it’s a cave boys. Not too much to make out. On the wall opposite of you there’s a drawbridge that might give you a way across that divide as well as a smaller door built into the cavern wall like the one you exited on this side. There is also a large lever that has been built into the wall of your side of the cavern.”
And if you pull that large lever a horde of skeletons and other undead beasts will fall on your heads from the trap door above you that you would have needed a damn good roll to have spotted.
“We should pull it, right? It probably operates the drawbridge.” Will knows, of course, about the trap door. They’d worked it out the night he’d come over to plan his double cross. Worked out some coded spells that would let Will control the undead without completely tipping his hand at this point. His manipulation is artistry. Not that he needs too much, it’s practically an unspoken DnD law that if you give a party a lever or button they will trigger it.
“What? No! There’s no way that’s not a trap,” if Steve weren’t currently ruining all of his hopes and dreams, he would find it unbelievably attractive that he caught on.
“How would you know, it’s not like there’s anything else in this cave.” Gareth has been less antagonistic for most of the afternoon, but as Eddie’s most reliable lever puller there may be some renewed hurt feelings.
“This is supposed to be a rich person escape route, they aren’t going to build in a garage door opener on the opposite side of the place they’re supposed to be exiting from. Someone might break in and kill them.”
“Well then what do you suggest we do to get across?”
“Well you just need one person to get across right? That door on the other side probably leads pretty close to whatever room actually drops the bridge. I mean you have to assume that the door is there for the guard to give the all clear to this room first or to defend the family.”
Steve is basically an NPC, had he left or had they not been able to come at all the character still would have been played by Eddie because like it or not their one off session had hunkered itself down in Eddie’s brain until it turned into the game they"re playing now. But he didn’t actually tell Steve that. Steve is the only one at the table who has no extra lore and no extra information, something he insisted on. Said he didn’t want to let something they weren’t supposed to spill and he didn’t want to reveal anything extra to the kids when he was playing Eddie’s errand boy. And he trusts Steve enough to know that they weren’t snooping through his notes before the campaign started.
Which means Steve is basically reading Eddie’s mind, he’s never had a relationship like this before. Is it too early to tell someone you love them when you’ve only been dating for two months. If he weren’t so mind numbingly mad that Steve was going to ruin his fight he might say it right now.
“So you’re going to, what, jump across a ten foot hole?” Gareth has restrained his hostility, Little Wheeler has not, the derision is dripping from his question.
“Not jump, does anyone have, like, a long flexible pole?” Steve asks, then thinks, “Oh and either a big rock or maybe the Move Earth or Dig spells to catch the end of the pole.”
“Absolutely not!” Eddie has maintained a poker face this far, but mice and men had nothing on someone fucking with the best laid plans of dungeon masters.
On the other hand, the guys were looking at Steve with a much more friendly interest.
“It’s just a little distance vaulting, Eds.”
“Ten feet is not a little distance!”
“You wanna break onto the school field, can give you a practical demonstration .” It’s flirty, damn near sultry, a deliberate tease of their first game together. White teeth sink into a plush lower lip and those hazel eyes sparkle with a challenge Eddie is dying to meet.
“Ew,” Max chimes helpfully from her spot in the corner.
“I did track as a freshman, don’t be weird Max.”
“Roll for it, Harrington.”
“Someone’s in trouble,” Jeff teases.
He rolls a natural 20, because of course he does. Eddie doesn’t believe in automatic successes, but it’s hard to argue with a man whose eyes shine when they get their way who can also explain the physics of what he’s trying to do. And it’s harder to argue with the flex of his arms, athletics check be damned.
Will spares him a mournful look for what might have been.
So it goes.
They adventure their way to the throne room no problem. Sure he throws a horde of rats at them along the way who might as well be made of stone for how high their AC is, but fucking sue him the guys all know he throws a mini boss fight before the big battle. He just has a reputation to maintain.
“And as you emerge from the caverns into the harsh light of the palace you find yourselves exiting a secret door built into the back wall of the throne room. The backs of two massive thrones before you, one the Kings and the other the ever empty Queen’s. Your footsteps echo as you step out of the stone floored cavern and into the empty marble walls of the palace.”
“With a fucking 18 in Dex, not fucking likely, dude.” Joey complains, leave it to the rogue to step on a theatrical fucking moment.
“Everyone but Thraxial’s steps echo on the floor as they leave the cavern, you happy man? It’s like an extra 10% of success and you didn’t even say you were stealthing.”
“What do we do now?” For all that Steve does seem to enjoy parts of DnD, he does not have the patience for arguing over the nitty gritty little details like whether you were or weren’t stealthed before walking into an obviously dangerous room.
“‘You make your peace with your Gods before you come face me, your demise.’” Eddie says, in his best haughty douchebag voice.
“The room is empty?” Mike asks.
“Roll perception.”
An eleven doesn’t get Wheeler much, but it’s coming to Jesus time for the party anyway. “The room appears empty, but without moving you’re left with a large blindspot in the center of the room where the thrones can’t be seen past. The thrones that the voice seems to be coming from.”
“I go into the room,” Jeff decides, “this is ridiculous.”
“Elvalor, you step into the center of the room to find the only other person in the room, aside from your party, is in fact the king. A man of the people, you have never been in the presence of your country’s King. A blonde with a strong jaw, his face is held in a perpetual sneer. ‘Do you come by yourself, bard, you think I can’t handle one freak coming for someone higher up the chain.’”
“Who says I’m alone, Carver.”
“No, stop,” Steve’s hands go up immediately, “the King is Carver, like Jason Carver, Eddie you can’t be serious.”
Steve has only played DnD once and it was really more a prolonged analogy, but before he decided to talk a walk on the nerdy side they hadn’t needed to use fantasy storytelling as a way of living your dreams and desires vicariously through a character. Eddie had based a lot of characters on people in real life, a bastard prince with a goblin toadie who got humbled enough to beg the party for help who may have been based on the Steve that once was. "Thought you"d appreciate another chance to manhandle Carver."
He snorts, and that’s probably the best he can hope for, "Aw Eds, you know the only man I want to handle is you."
“Disgusting,” Mike says.
“There are children present.” Dustin complains, likely the only time in the entire time he’s known Steve that he’s called himself a child.
“None of you get to give me shit,” Steve says, his mom finger is out and making the rounds, “I"ve had the misfortune of catching half of you trying to figure out how kissing works. Here"s the real reason Hop makes you keep the door open Wheeler, it"s cause he"s afraid you"re gonna cannibalize his daughter.”
“El likes it.” Wheeler sneers.
“She does not, she just doesn"t know any better. Called you eager, like a Labrador.” Max is a little too eager to throw out that particular tidbit. Who hasn’t been a kid trying to figure out how much tongue is the right amount of tongue when it comes to frenching.
“Can we get back to?” Gareth looked ready to beg, and Eddie remembered that Gareth was one of those people.
“Please.” Steve agreed, and how did this sweet boy last so long as a bully. So uncomfortable with the consequences of teasing his kids, but then this time the consequences were hearing about a bunch of babies tonguing each other so maybe he had a point.
“Roll for initiative then bitches, what did you think was going to happen here?”
They come out with a pretty decent breakdown of rolls. Their tanks are dispersed among the order, and their healer doesn’t hit too early or late. And Will rolls real close to Carver which helps a lot.
Combat goes the way it always does, his tanks knock shit around. They get bored when the spell casters take more than fifteen seconds to decide what spell they’re going to use. They all get a little more rightfully upset when those same spellcasters run through their spell list a hundred times like they aren’t the same spells they had the last turn.
Steve looks like a mom at a five year olds soccer game, proud of everything all of his kids are doing whenever they’re doing it regardless of how it turns out. Eddie’s waiting for Henderson to get a ‘Good job, champ.’ the next time his club makes contact. Fingers dancing a distracting rhythm up and down Eddie’s leg anytime they get bored.
And Will, he’s brilliant. Keeping “party” members inside the area of damage for spells like he can’t manage to get them out. Buffing party members that don’t need it, ignoring the ones it would actually help. Absolutely refusing to cast any healing spells above a level one, and even then he only does it to stop Wheeler the Younger from complaining about almost being downed.
“The King is still standing though bloody, burned, and missing his right eye after your attack, Elvalor. He spits on the marble floor, a faint tink follows as one of his teeth joins the accumulating blood and viscera. ‘You’re all weak willed, lacking vision. Freaks and losers who are going against the will of the divine. You,’ he spits again at your feet this time Sir Stephan, ‘are the worst among them I should have killed you years ago, the kingdom will burn before it goes to you.’”
His pretend plot twist, half twist, the twist that lets the better one hide behind it, doesn’t go unnoticed by the club.
“Steve is the secret prince!”: Dustin.
“But wait, you said Sir Stephan used to fight with the guard on the front lines? There’s only one heir.”: Lucas.
“You didn’t think this was information we might want to have?”: Gareth.
It’s also news to Steve. Eddie was really counting on Steve to be at least a half-decent improviser. The twist is hitting him just as suddenly as the rest.
“You know Carver was only a junior this year.”
And yeah, that would be what trips up his, to borrow from Robin, sweet Dingus.
“Let’s play a bit of pretend here sweetheart.”
Steve sends him a loaded smile, flirty and full of promise. There and gone again, Steve is turning to the rest of the party. “Can you even count an unwanted heir?”
“Yes,” they all insist.
“Alright then, well he didn’t and I don’t so it didn’t feel worth mentioning.” He looks to Eddie, “Can I hit him?”
“You can try. Is there anything you want to say about his reveal before you hit him.”
“In my experience, shitty dads don’t spend a lot of time listening to the kids they wished they’d never had. I think I’ll just hit him.”
Joey is the one who actually lands the killing blow. Sure it’s less narratively satisfying, but the damage a good rogue can do is no joke. It’s hard to argue that a guy is still standing when they’ve just taken twenty points of damage.
But so it goes as does the narrative.
King Carver is no sooner on the ground than everyone is bickering about what to do next. Wanting to loot the body, wanting to search the room, arguing about what this means for the kingdom. Eddie thought he was ready for what would come next, ears pricked for Will Byers specifically. When it comes his voice is quiet but assured, “I want to cast animate dead.”
And Eddie wasn’t ready for that one.
“What?”
Steve is grinning, wide and proud of himself, “Knew it.”
The debate that the others had been having dies, ironically.
“Sick,” Joey hisses.
“Will?” Mike looks shocked and betrayed like Will has actually killed someone in front of him.
He ignores the shock. Ignores the looks of confusion and distress -- and pride from Steve, who likes a little bit of controlled chaos. He’s certain in his plan and keeps his eyes on Eddie as he shares it. “I want to cast animate dead at a sixth level, his head is still intact right. The killing blow was to the back.”
Will already knows this, he’s clarifying to prove a point, that he can pull one over on Eddie too, that he’s guilty of underestimating Will as well. “Correct, you have the components you need on you to cast this.” He bites back a bit, the kids need to know he’s a mean DM.
Will scoffs, he’s unimpressed by Eddie’s implied threats, “Of course I do, it was my plan the whole time.”
Dustin gaping, finally finds his voice. Torn between obvious betrayal and excitement, “What, Will - fuck-”
“Language,” Steve chides.
“Character names,” Eddie reminds at the same time.
“Shit, fuck,” a teen after his own heart, stick it to the man, buck authority. Even if that authority is your fake mom. “Mordred, what are you doing?”
Eddie is living for this. “Will, how does this look when you reanimate the corpse of the king?”
“I know it’s not technically the way the spell works,” predicting and cutting off any arguing from the rest of the table, “but he’s like a marionette. Once the spell’s cast he sits up but he’s vacant. Moving when Mordred moves his hand, the movement is wrong: his joints bend too much or too far. When he’s not moving he slumps over like a doll in a corner. Mordred stands him up and he slumps over to reoccupy the empty throne.”
“Sick,” Lucas is not as torn as the rest of the younger party members. The declaration is out of character, but he’s perked up in his seat sending darting looks between Max and the table. He might as well be shouting, ‘See it’s cool, this game is cool, don’t think I’m lame.’
“Why are you doing this?” Little Wheeler is either very in character or Steve might need to put a rush on that bisexuality talk.
“I was hired by the king to infiltrate the attempt on his throne or his life. He’s a skilled fighter but he’s still the king, he didn’t want his son to take the throne. If he died he wanted me to revivify him.” Will at least had the decency not to change up the backstory they’d worked out. He also hadn’t known that Steve was going to be the missing son, but he knew to expect one.
“This is not- what you’re doing is sick. He’s not alive-” Gareth is lawful good to the core.
“Of course he’s not,” Will’s laugh sends actual chills down Eddie’s spine. He’s gotta get this kid in the drama club after this, “he’s a blowhard who doesn’t know how to handle his own power. I plan to enact real change on behalf of my God for this kingdom, but the royal family holds on to power in such a tight, incestuous fist, I had to find a way to get a foot in the door.”
Will wiggles his fingers, and never let it be said that Eddie didn’t know how to take a cue, “The king kicks his feet on the throne, glassy eyed and fully under the control of Mordred.”
“Tell me you don’t think this is a good idea.” Steve says, it’s unclear if the disdain is a character choice or if it’s just an innate part of Steve. Along with the babysitting came a mother’s critical eye.
“Why not? Who’s to say what’s right for this wretched place? Who’s going to notice that this bloated corpse is any different from the bloated bigot in power before. Does it matter who’s in charge when positive change is being made?”
“Well…” Dustin looks like he’s considering.
“Is that an option?” disdain gone, maybe Steve is remembering the bloated bigot who took over his reign. “It could be a lesser of two evils like getting Bush over Reagan.”
“Fuck Reagan,” it’s like a tic, Eddie can’t help himself.
Gareth, still lawful good, still not any fun, ”It’s not an option.”
“It is some fucked up evil shit,” Jeff agrees, but his back’s not really in it. It’s hard not to admit that it’s actually pretty fucking cool.
“We can’t kill him,” Mike damn near snarls, the first to suggest this solution and a brand of feral that Eddie finds genuinely a little frightening.
Let it never be said that any of his friends have any social graces, a group of social outcasts who can’t read a room. “Why not? Evil guy, good guys, pretty simple man.” Joey’s rogue is especially blood thirsty this time.
Will shrugs, unbothered by the party"s plans, “I don’t know how you think you’re going to stop me. I cast flame strike.”
Absolutely fucking delicious, “That sounds like an initiative roll folks.”
The new round of combat doesn’t last long. Spell slots had already been expended and it’s at best one and a half against the others. Will Byers is a hell of a strategist though and before they get him down he’s downed Wheeler’s paladin and Jeff’s bard. Steve does get the final blow this time, realizing quickly that there was no point in dealing damage to a corpse and focuses his blows on Mordred. He snagged Wheeler’s sword, and Eddie doesn’t have to ask to know they feel weird bashing in the skull of someone played by one of his kids.
Health low, Steve’s critical hit makes Eddie take back everything he thought about narrative satisfaction. “What’s that do to you,” Eddie checks when Steve confirms a lethal amount of damage. “You down?”
“Does 21 points of damage take me, a magic user, down? I don’t know Eddie, you’re the DM.”
“Byers you are a hoot and a half. Alright, Stevie how do you down the dark wizard Mordred?”
“Oh,” Mike is absolutely glowering at Steve. Eddie has been known to get too invested in a good campaign but he kinda wants to remind the kid that Will is still distinctly alive for Steve’s sake. “I don’t know, Eds, you decide.”
He would never allow this from any of his other players, but it’s not like he’d make Wayne describe how he was going to kill him. Eddie’s not a monster. “Grabbing the broad sword from the slack fingers of your dead companion Harithal you stalk up to Mordred. Distracted as he is by maintaining his connection to Carver and warding off the attacks from Rathington the barbarian, he misses you until you are behind him. The sword slides through skin and muscle and sinew until it bursts from his front. You release your hold on the sword, now heavier with the weight of the wizards body, and he collapses to the floor. Bloody, dying.
“Mordred, any final words?”
“The rot is deep and you haven’t stopped it. May you not live to regret the decisions you’ve made here.”
Fuck this kid is metal as hell. He needs to find someone to thank for Steve Harrington and the kids that he’s dropped in Eddie’s lap. He knows why Steve did the single mom thing and waited to introduce him to the nuggets, but Eddie is all in on these little weirdos. He’ll step-father the shit out of them, gonna leave Will in his will, the future head of Hellfire.
“With those words Mordred lets out his final breath and as he dies his magic dissipates with him, King Carver collapsing to the floor with a fleshy thump.”
“Now what?” Steve asks.
“You take over as King, rule the kingdom.” Lucas says, it ticks up at the end not quite a question. Something else Eddie has noticed Steve does, it seems all the children have incorporated a little bit of the babysitter into their own habits.
“Definitely not an option. Do we just leave? Should we burn it or something?”
“You’re the prince, it’s your duty.” Gareth, who had previously been very anti-king Steve all of three hours ago, has really changed his tune.
“Yeah man,” Dustin says, “you can change things from the inside.”
“No,” Steve is firm, unyielding, and ironically kingly, “the King is dead and his heir a rumor. I’m going back to Neverwinter and Eddie. Find a different plan.”
Well if that doesn’t give him all kinds of little butterflies.
“If we’re killing the king we might as well try democracy,” Joey jokes.
“Yeah,” Steve agrees, “why not.”
Eddie did not plan for the instillation of the democratic process in a former monarchy after the assassination of the king by the people leading the insurrection, but never let it be said that he’s not quick on his feet. He riffs, makes up some villager NPCs real quick, blatantly steals a line or two from Monty Python, and ends the session before anyone tries for political scandal.
“Though the kingdom still seems uncertain, they know they have their neighbors to look toward. Neverwinter’s representational system is successful and easily recreatable. Those of you who have chosen to stay behind in your former homeland help ease the transition. Supporting them through the worst of the growing pains of dictatorship to democracy. You are home. You are somewhere new. You can control what it becomes.
“And that’s where we’ll end it.”
He brings his hands together with a clap, a slate transitioning from one scene to the next. As he releases control to the party they all explode.
“So cool.”
“Jock and a nerd-”
“Oh my god, Steve-”
“-Every week?”
“What a send off!”
He knows the kids, recognizes their voices but the amalgamation that they’ve become in their excitement is a little harder to parse out. They’re more worried about Steve, the cool babysitter now even cooler since he’s been the secret prince and slayed the dark wizard. He doesn’t worry too much about answering, enjoying the sight of his smiling boyfriend doting on his kids.
“Harrington, huh?” Gareth asks.
“He’s not so bad,” Joey admits.
“You would have a thing for a paladin.” Jeff says.
“The kids are pretty cool,” Gareth says.
“That plot twist, man!”
“Byers is absolutely the man,” Joey agrees.
“That’s the future of Hellfire, boys.” Eddie says.
“The future of Hellfire, brought to us by Steve Harrington, what a fucking world.” Gareth is warming up, he probably won’t ever really like Steve but the hostility is waning Eddie can tell.
“We’re gonna walk back to Gareth’s breathe something that doesn’t smell like socks and puberty,” Jeff says, it sounds a lot more like we’re not gonna make you bring us home so you can spend some time making out with your hot boyfriend; but maybe he’s reading a little too much into it.
“See you at practice tomorrow, dude.”
Steve slides his arm around Eddie’s waist the second he finds himself within grabbing distance. A warm hand palms his hip, fingers digging in greedily, but he doesn’t break away from his conversation with the kids. He likes that, likes that the kids come first for Steve that Eddie being here doesn’t change that they are his first priority.
Dustin is gushing, “Seriously dude that was the coolest, such a cool send off, I thought the biggest surprise was going to be you showing up and then Will, bam! Betrayal. Eddie, are all your games that awesome!”
“You’ll have to join the club to find out, kid,” Eddie teases, “there will be significantly fewer Harrington’s though.”
“Sounds more appealing,” Mike is an emotional roller coaster of a kid, Steve hadn’t been kidding when he said the kid was neck deep in the teen angst.
“I told you, you’d like it,” Dustin crowed, he was beginning to suspect that humble wasn’t in the kid’s dictionary, “ I can’t believe it took you getting a boyfriend to finally listen to me.”
“If Steve can be a nerd and a jock. You guys can’t give me shit for trying out for the team next year.” Sinclair has that same on the defensive edge he got when he played, though if the kids debated anything like they played DnD even basic communication was a blood sport.
“Whoa now, Sinclair, one session of Dwarves and Dimwits doesn’t make me a nerd, obviously they’re going to support you when you try out for the basketball team. We’re gonna spend the summer on fundamentals.”
“You know what a modifier is, Steve, it’s too late to pretend you don’t know what the game’s actually called,” Will says.
“If mom’s a nerd that officially makes me the cool one.” Max chimes, yet to get up from her beanbag throne.
“How’s that Wonder Woman comic coming, Maxine.” He’s never had a shithead big brother, but Steve’s tone is pitch perfect what he always imagined one would sound like.
“Wonder Woman isn’t nerdy, Stephan. She’s an Amazonian warrior, call me Maxine again and I’ll show you some of her moves.”
Hands shoot up, palms out ‘we come in peace,’ even the big bad Steve Harrington isn’t gonna take a chance on fighting Red. If Steve’s personal account of his own track record is to be believed it’s probably a good call.
“Me and El will come to your games, Lucas. We’ll make a sign,” Will says, turning to Steve with an uncertain look, “people do that, right?”
Steve’s hand leaves Eddie’s hip, a modern tragedy, to tussle Will’s hair. “Yeah, they do that, you can put his number on it.”
“I’ve got to make the team first, Steve.”
“Of course you’re going to make the team, dude, your footwork"s incredible, your free throw is reliable, and you’re shooting up like a weed. By the time you’re a senior you’ll be dunking. Not that height-”
“Alright superstar, we get it, Sinclair is a Yankee in the making.” Eddie interrupts, Steve had gone on for hours with Wayne the first time they had met, and cute as it was they didn’t have time for it.
“The Yankees are a baseball team, Eds,” exasperation paints his face with an adorable smile across his face, “and not even an Indiana team.”
“Sure, sure, everyone in this room definitely knew that.”
“That’s a Nat 1 on Deception, Eddie my love.”
“Maybe, but you just made a Dungeons and Dragons reference that made sense, Sunshine.”
“Let’s get out of here before I start liking math.”
“Please,” he must be building to something, Mike has yet to show any evidence of having been taught manners until this moment, “the sooner you’re out of here the sooner we can head to the arcade.”
“Oh, Steve, can you give us a ride?” When Dustin asks it sounds more like, ‘how many of us are going to fit in your car when you take us Steve.’
“No, I’ve got plans and you’ve got bikes.”
“Eddie has to take the other guys back.”
“Ah, ah, ah, Henderson, take a look around, the Hellfire boys know when to make an exit, Stevie I think we should follow their lead.”
“You’re still going to drive me to camp tomorrow, right Steve?”
“Obviously, I’ll be here bright and early, Dust so don’t stay up all night watching Ghostbusters.”
“As long as you don’t stay up all night sucking face with Eddie.”
That little muscle in the corner of Steve’s eye is starting to jump, a hand has found its way to their hip, and the mom finger has made its way out in front of him. Definitely time to go.
“I will return your babysitter unsullied in the morning, fear not my raging barbarian, but in order to do that we must leave.” He likes to think of himself as being deceptively strong, a reward for having to lug around all the amps and shit they need in order to play at the Hideout, even so he hadn’t expected much when he wrapped his arms around real life barbarian and jock of all jocks Steve Harrington’s waist and lifted. Certainly not a squeal as his feet do leave the ground. Certainly not the breathless way he says Eddie’s name, demanding to be put down.
“Hey Will, walk me and Eddie out?” A pink cheeked Steve requests, hand clutching nonexistent pearls. More than face is getting sucked tonight if he plays his cards right.
Steve is parked on the street, too polite to block anyone in by parking in the driveway, unlike Eddie whose van is very proudly announcing that he is a guest at the Wheeler home. He slows down when he gets to Eddie’s van, the three of them shielded slightly from being directly in view of the street. “I don’t want this,” he gestures to Eddie, to the abstract concept of their relationship that rests between them, “to be a secret, so you can tell Ellie since she’s the only one from the Party who missed the announcement. Your mom and Jon too, but um, maybe let me be the one to tell Hop that I’m dating someone he’s arrested before?”
“Sure, Steve, I’ll teach El what gay people are and break it to my brother that him and Nancy have lost their shot at a threeway.” If Henderson’s tone is sharp, Will’s is downright lethal.
But a mother always knows how to handle her children, and each must be treated differently. Steve’s smirk, condescending and adult, the hand on his hip familiar in its matronly disdain, “He hasn’t missed anything, what do you think my Christmas present was in ‘83?”
Disgust is plain, undisguised on his suddenly sheet white face. He doesn’t even wait to see if Steve had anything else to say, turning on his heel and rushing back to the house like Steve might start sharing details if he stayed for too long.
Jealousy flares bright, an exploding star in his chest hot and sudden enough that even he didn’t totally expect it. He lets that hot, snarling feeling that he listens to, just this once. Letting it lead him into pushing Steve against the side of his van. Letting him drape himself across Steve’s front to ask, “Did you actually fuck your ex and her new boyfriend?”
If the jealousy bothers him it doesn’t show. Steve smiles shy and slow, twirling one of Eddie’s curls around his finger. “Nah, just thought I should give him a taste of his own medicine. You know last time I dropped him off Joyce told me I was sweet, but she thought of me like a son. It was bad enough when Hop and Jonathan were in on the joke, I wanted to drive off a bridge.”
He doesn’t mean to laugh. Despite how attractive his boyfriend does or doesn’t find Joyce Byers, he knows the joke has grown stale. “That’s good, I don’t like to share and I’m pretty sure Joyce could kick my ass.”
Steve groans good naturedly, dragging his name out into enough syllables that it sounds more like a challenge than a reprimand. He’s starting to get a clearer picture of how the night is gonna go.
“So what’d you think, baby,” he asks, one part distraction, one part an artist’s desperate plea for positive feedback, “gonna join the party?”
“Think they’d have me?” His heart breaks just a little that this is a genuine question, that in spite of everything Steve is still unsure of his place in the group, unsure of how much he is actually wanted by them.
“I think you could have died first round and they would have had you. Did you have fun?”
“It was different than when it was just us.” Steve tilts his head down, angling it toward his own chest, embarrassed or shy remembering their first game together. It’s an act. Of course it is, There’s that calculating look in his eye as Steve observes him from his periphery. It works though, Eddie’s simple that way; easily charmed by a coy smile from a pretty boy.
It works for them because Eddie likes to make Steve work, just a little, for what he wants. Commit to the bit. “Yeah, a group of eight is a little… chaotic even for the best of us.”
“I think I could be convinced to play again just with a smaller group.”
“A more exclusive guest list?” He teases.
“Very exclusive.”
“How exclusive you talking, Stevie?”
“A party of two? Me, obviously, and this guy, maybe you know him, pretty, smart, best DM in Hawkins.” Boy can Eddie imagine it too. Steve can be the prince and Eddie can be the warlock holding him captive.
“Seems like quite the guy.”
“The best,” Steve enthuses, smile stretched wide across his face, caramel eyes so warm they’re melting as he looks at Eddie now. “Come over tonight?”
“Sounds like a party.”