Chapter Text
For as long as Steve had been alive, the world had been filled to the brim with proof that people were completely and distinctly alive . Everyone had their own signature mark, shifting and billowing, before all at once breaking apart and rippling into something new, constant motion.
He’d never quite been able to explain it, put it into the correct words.
The closest description Steve had ever come to was that you had your average senses: The one for the honking of the horn from the car down the street, or for tasting pasta bolognese or the sharp zing of pain from the scar on his side that popped up whenever he stretched his arm. The ones that everyone had, that people clearly experienced every day.
Then there was the one that Steve had long discovered didn't exist for most people. It was the warm aura that emanated from Robin as she hummed to herself, contentment singing through the air and curling around Steve from across the room. It was the quiet glimmering admiration from Dustin, that crackled and popped when Steve gave out advice in silver bursts. It was the acrid, heavy, aura that swirled around when Steve knew he had to keep going, had to keep going or everyone would die.
It didn't fit with any of the other senses he had. It wasn't quite a smell, a touch taste, feeling or sound. It was some amalgamation of all five of them, spun up and cobbled into a force that Steve could mentally curl his hand around, could nudge and shift just enough to convince him that what he was dealing with was real.
Steve had asked about it, once. They'd been learning about the five senses and been asked to count them each on one hand. He had been confused when his hand had come up with 6, frowning at the upticked thumb he had on his left hand.
“What about the swirly things?” he’d asked, head tilting when the energy surrounding his teacher rippled with confusion.
“What swirly things dear?” She’d asked, and Steve had never really been good at words, not back then and certainly not now, so he’d struggled his way through an explanation that clearly fell short of providing his teacher with any of the information he’d wished to relay.
No, instead his teacher's confusion had shifted to alarmed concern, and Steve had spent the next week in and out of some shrinks office until they chalked it up to an overactive imagination.
Steve had learned then that whatever it was he was experiencing was not worth bringing up, and that it apparently wasn't in the school curriculum either. He figured maybe it was just one of those things that you weren’t meant to talk about.
The final nail in the coffin for this was when he’d brought it up with his parents, and they swiftly shut down any notions of the idea with a dismissive, ‘ don't talk such nonsense dear, nobody wants to listen to an attention seeker, ’
Nonsense. It was just nonsense. Not worth thinking about, just another thing he had to hide if he wanted to fit in. Just another thing to keep hidden under his metaphorical mask.
In a way, Steve was kind of grateful for the swift intervention. He knew now, after all, that most people in the world didn't have the ability to pick out people's emotions, and in a town like Hawkins he wouldn't have lasted long if he commented on every newly divorced teacher's surly mood, nor if he mentioned any bully’s clear and palpable daddy issues.
It was the reason why despite everything, he had turned out normal , despite all of life's attempts to turn him into something other than a popular somewhat dim-witted jock.
So Steve had skated under the radar, and grown-up none the wiser to just how weird he was, and he’d not given it any more thought than one might give a daisy in the crack of a sidewalk. There had been a few years where he’d actually managed to convince himself that he wasn't different, and that what he was experiencing was some weird synesthesia that really didn't warrant much attention.
And then one day he’d walked into the Byers household and been slapped in the face with the most godawful aura he'd ever experienced in his life, and he just knew he wasn’t going to be coming back from this.
There was something hollow about the Demogorgon. The energy that swirled around it felt void and limp and so intrinsically wrong that it actually hurt being around it. It was unlike the emotion of fear rolling off Nancy and Jonathan. Fear held a presence due to the fact that it was human .
Sure, fear was generally unpleasant, and it clouded Steve's head enough to make it hard to think, but at the very least it held the weight of coming from a living being.
The energy around the Demogorgon was like an abyss, sucking in and consuming and asking for more more more. It was nothing but an insatiable hunger.
So Steve hadn’t hesitated, hadn’t even second-guessed himself when he’d slammed the beast with that bat, because he already knew that thing wasn't alive in any way that mattered.
Despite this, that wasn't the moment Steve stopped to consider his own personal weirdness. No, that moment was simply the catalyst for his own personal change. The one that made him drop his old friends and leave the title of ‘King Steve’ in the dust.
The moment Steve realised his own personal weirdness was actually a lot more fucking important than he realised was right in the middle of his second apocalyptic adventure. It had been right before El ran off to close the gate, and somehow Steve had ended up alone with her while the others rustled round in the kitchen looking for ways to heat out the resident demon haunting the youngest Byers kid.
He didn't know her, and his first impression of her had been when she’d killed a monster simply with the flick of her mind so honestly he really didn't know how to approach any sort of conversation. So they’d initially sat side by side in somewhat awkward silence.
It had been accidental. He’d stretched out a hand to snag a newspaper from the table in front of him when there had been a spike in the energy from her. A swirling mix of surprise-hope-confusion had pinged around like ping pong balls and Steve had looked over to see what had triggered it, only to immediately have her hands tugging his wrist towards her.
She turned his hand palm up, staring with wisps of wonder that curled around his wrist, the source of her interest apparently.
“Oh, my tattoo?” he said in realisation, “yeah I'm not sure where I got it, been there since I was super young-”
“ Seven ,” she said under her breath, and then she looked up at him with those wide eyes and blinked, as if she was expecting a reaction from him.
“Yeah,” he said cautiously, “Seven. That's what it says. Honestly I have no idea what my parents were thinking. It's a little weird to tattoo the number 7 on your kid's arm huh,” he said, attempting for a joke, only for Steve's mouth to go completely bone dry when she pulled out her own wrist.
011
007
Up until this point, Steve had convinced himself he was normal. Had driven home the idea that he was just seeing things, that it was his imagination, that somewhere the wires in his brain had crossed enough to create the fucked up 6th sense he seemed to have.
Looking at Eleven's wrist blew up all of his preconceived ideas of normalcy because what this meant was that Steve shared the same kind of branding as the kid who could move shit with her mind, and as much as Steve wanted to deny it, that simply wasn't normal.
He swallowed thickly.
“I’m sorry I don't think I'm quite like you,” he said, wincing when the energy around her dropped slightly with disappointment. “I can't do the uh, brain-moving stuff,” he said waving a hand around and she considered him.
“Rainbow room?” she asked, but Steve could tell she was expecting it when he shook his head. She considered him, really looked , and Steve could almost believe she’d looked directly into his soul when she said,
“But you're like me.”
It was a statement, and Steve almost wondered if she could also see the auras around people with how confidently she said it. But Steve didn't think it was the auras that made her know.
No, Steve knew she was right in the same way she knew she was right. They were cut from the same cloth, made of the same stuff, and on a molecular level, Steve knew that they were kindred.
He didn’t come to that realisation at the time, it was only much later that he realised it but all the same, he’d remembered having one clear thought about being connected to Eleven in that way:
That the idea was completely and utterly fucking terrifying.
They were interrupted by the sound of the others having finished their preparation, murmurings of a half-cooked plan getting closer. Steve had turned to her eyes wide and pulled up his sleeve as high as it could go because he’d never once considered that the weird tattoo he’d grown up with would ever be something he needed to hide , but Eleven tilted her head at him.
“Hey uh, do you think you could uh, maybe not mention the whole,” he gestured to his wrist, “ seven thing?”
Her eyes narrowed and Steve winced at the disapproval that rolled off the air around her, “Friends don't lie-”
“Not lying, “ he rushed out, painfully conscious of the sound of voices getting louder, “Just uh, don't bring it up. Please?” he must have looked pretty desperate following the news of possibly being some sort of government experiment because she dipped her head.
“Ok,” she said simply, and Steve helped her up, patted her on the shoulder, and sent her off.
Because Eleven had to go close the gate, and Steve had to protect his newly acquired gaggle of kids, and he didn't have time to process any of that information, not when the choking cloud of rage that constantly hung around Billy Hargrove had turned dark poisonous and was clawing its way into every crevice of Steves mind, fogging everything over with that hateful mist.
And then Steve couldn't think about it when he was in those tunnels, surrounded by the aura of sacred kids and the hungry abyss and his heart was suddenly leaping into his throat when it was just him and Dustin down there and they were going to die if Steve didn't do something.
He didn't think about it, he just pulled on everything, the fear that quivered around Dustin, the sharp acidic panic from the kids above, but most of all Steve dug deep within himself and yanked , drawing up that distinct desire to protect and curled around the kid, hoping to any god that was listening that it would be enough.
He didn't think anyone but him saw that silvery force field that had solidified around them as the dogs raced past.
He didn't think he would ever be able to recreate it either. The visceral feeling he’d felt that day simply wasn’t an emotion he could bring up in any normal day context.
That was the day Steve really realised he wasn’t normal.
Or maybe it was the day he stopped trying to convince himself he was. Either way, he moved forwards because at the end of the day it was all he could do. Steve's powers couldn't move steel, couldn't vanquish demons to other dimensions.
But what he could do was be one good fucking babysitter, and given the amount of trouble these kids got into, maybe he was the only one who could keep up with them.
So Steve looked after them, and would carefully inspect the energy surrounding them for signs of trouble, would bake cakes when Will looked upset, would toss a basketball at Lucas and playfully challenge him to a match. Helped Max move into her new house, and sat quietly with her when that ever-present sombre tinge in her energy swelled to be a heavy raincloud over her.
Steve’s powers let him see the indisputable fact that people were alive , and every day that he could see that evidence was a day that Steve could be thankful for.
Steve rapped twice on the door before standing back to wait. He’d been to this trailer park before, when he’d first helped Max move here following the death of her brother. He hadn't really given much thought to the place, never really expected to be more than just “Where Max lives”
Nowadays it’s “Where Max AND Eddie live,” which is an addition Steve had never considered before.
Still, it wasn't necessarily unwelcome, even if the guy literally took forever to open a goddamn door-
“Harrington,” a cheery voice called, and the man himself leaned against the door, hair pulled into a somewhat messy ponytail and a loose shirt over a pair of sweatpants. Whatever he'd been up to prior clearly wasn't anything that required him to dress up, “Didn't expect to see you around here, what calls?”
Eddie was Steve's latest enigma. His usual look, the one with the rock T-shirt with a band Steve didn't quite recognise, the chains, the ripped jeans, his interest in DnD and loud music and guitars. It all pointed towards the fact that Steve would probably never even have entertained the idea of approaching him in any normal situation. He was loud, unapologetically abrasive and prone to launching off into dramatic monologues using nerdy terminology that Steve found hard to follow.
He was the antithesis of the image Steve had projected during his time at school. While Steve had spent his time in education crawling through the mud that was high school drama to gain his foothold in the school hierarchy, Eddie had done quite the opposite.
Eddie wasn't interested in ‘popular’ , hell, he didn't seem interested in ‘normal’ either. In fact, Eddie discarded the idea, stomped on it, and for good measure ran it over with a ten-tonne steamroller to finish the job. He obeyed no social rules, followed no guidelines, and carved his own path with a half-broken fork for a shovel.
And yet Steve still found himself smiling at the sight of him leaning against the door.
“Hello to you too Munson, just dropping by for your official invitation for the party of the century, “ he said, and Eddie lit up,
“For me ,” he said, batting his eyelids excessively, “Wow, an invitation to a party hosted by none other than Steve ‘the hair’ Harrington, I’m truly honoured,” The sarcasm practically dripped from his words.
Steve rolled his eyes at the dramatics, “yeah well don’t get too excited, the guest list is six 15-year-olds, an 11-year-old and the only three people our age are barely functional.” Steve paused, “Plus Nancy”
“Sounds exclusive,” Eddie chirped.
“Well, you know how it is.” Steve said, waving his hand in faux casualty, “You save the world and somehow you’re the one stuck planning a ‘We saved the world’ party”
Eddie raised an eyebrow, “Aren’t the others helping with this as well,”
“Yeah but I’ve had the title of chief party planner for 2 years now so I can’t exactly give up now. So are you coming or not.” Steve said with fake exasperation that had the air around Eddie crackling with amusement. The feel of it skittered across his skin like small fireworks and Steve had to resist the urge to shake off the tingling sensation.
“Sure, why not, I think I’ve deserved a little party after the whole nearly dying a bunch of times thing.” Eddie then paused, and the energy around him dipped with slight disappointment as he seemingly remembered something,
“I don't think I can stay for too long though,” he said half to himself.
Still, he’d accepted, and that was enough for Steve.
“Great, you can bring alcohol as long as you’re willing to lie to the kids about it. No drugs because I really don’t want to have that talk with them yet. I’ll tell you the details of when and where when I actually know what I’m doing.”
Steve pushed himself from where he was leaning against the door, and Eddie mirrored him by straightening up.
“Sounds good,” Eddie said, and he sent a smile. Steve's eyebrows furrowed when he realised that the dip in his energy hadn’t gone up, and the quick glance into Eddie's trailer did not provide any answers for whatever it was that Eddie was thinking about.
Against his better judgment, Steve pried, “Why can't you stay for long?”
“Huh?” Eddie asked, almost surprised at the question.
“You uh, you mentioned you couldn't stay for long. At the party I mean. Any specific reason?” Steve monitored both Eddie's face and his surrounding aura for signs of discomfort, but the only change was the disappointment shifting into a soft kind of confusion.
“Oh,” the confusion eased, “ OH , uh yeah, I've been studying , actually,” Eddie laughed to himself, rubbing the back of his neck slightly self-consciously, “I actually want to graduate this time, so I've been putting in some elbow grease ya know? The fear of death kinda knocks you straight”
“Yeah, I get that,” Steve did get it. His brush with the Demogorgon was the whole reason why he’d done a complete turnaround from how he was before. Eddie wanting to graduate made plenty of sense.
Regardless, the conversation tapered off, and Steve cringed internally a bit when the prickling of awkwardness skittered around his nose when neither of them said anything. It was definitely one of his less liked emotions, especially since it always made him feel like he was going to sneeze.
As fascinating as Steve found Eddie Munson to be, there was still the painful fact that all things considered, they didn't really know each other. He trusted the man with his life, held endless confidence that if it ever came down to it he would have his back. He knew how he acted in pressured scenarios, and it was enough for Steve to tell that Eddie Munson was a good guy.
That didn't change the fact that the only context he knew Eddie in was in the context of survival . He didn't, for example, know his favourite song, or colour, if he played an instrument other than the guitar, if enjoyed vanilla ice cream.
Steve didn't really know how to approach the guy outside of killing evil monsters from another dimension.
He knew that Dustin looked up to him though, practically worshipped the ground he walked on saying ‘oh my god you should have seen Eddie in the DnD session today he was totally awesome ’ or ‘ Eddie played this super cool solo on his guitar it was amazing ’ Which sure, initially it had made him practically green with envy because he was meant to be Dustin's hero, but that was before they'd saved the world together.
Nowadays Steve just wondered what it would be like to be friends with Eddie. Like, as close to him as he was close to Robin. He wondered if the teasing back and forth they already did would continue into their friendship, if the prickling awkwardness would fade the longer they spent time together.
Most of all Steve wondered what kind of energy signature he would carry.
See, the thing with the whole emotions deal that Steve realised pretty late on was that while everyone's emotions shift and ebbed almost every second, there was always what Steve like to call someone's signature .
It was the thing underneath the fluctuations, underneath the emotions tied to each and every thought someone experienced. It was like sailing through fog and finding an island, only the island was them . The very core essence of a person boiled down to an emotion and feeling that Steve really couldn't describe, because while emotions themselves could be hard to explain, their complexity didn't even hold a candle to something which could only ever be described as being Robin , or Dustin , or Nancy .
You could describe if it was warm, or dynamic, or smooth or smelled like peaches but that couldn't even scratch the surface of what made a person a person .
It does take a while for Steve to find it. He has to dig past the energy already surrounding someone, what they’re feeling at the moment, and then he has to keep sifting through all that emotional energy until everything just kinda, clicks into place.
He wondered if Eddie's signature would smell like that spicy cologne he wore.
Steve's mouth started moving before his brain could really process what he was saying
“You want help?” At both the sight of Eddie's frown and the feel of his confusion brushing Steve's ribs, he rushed to clarify.
“ Studying , I mean do you want help studying. Like uh, Study Buddies?” Steve refrained from shoving his entire foot in his mouth to get himself to shut up when he felt the tingle of Eddie's curiosity. It mulled around for a second before warping into something warm with mild strings of gratitude woven into it.
“Sure, I can have Steve Harrington as a study buddy,” Eddie said, as if the very prospect amused him.
Steve lit up “Yeah, cool, I'll see what I can do. I will warn you, I barely scraped by my graduation, so I can't offer anything but really really good cramming techniques,” Steve said and Eddie huffed a laugh.
“I think I’ll take what I can get Harrington.” Eddie said, a soft smile creasing the corners of his eyes, “See you here round 2 tomorrow? Only if that works for his highness of course” He said, stooping into a mocking bow as Steve laughed.
“Yeah, sounds good, see you then,” Steve took a step back from the door and watched as Eddie straightened back into leaning against the door
“Bye Harrington,” Eddie said, giving a lazy wave.
“By Munson,” Steve replied, and he turned, heading back to his car.
He slipped into the front seat, smoothing his hands through his hair and laughing to himself for a second.
Study Buddies with Eddie Munson huh?
Certainly, not the worst idea he's had. At worst he’ll be completely useless and Eddie will eventually get tired of him for wasting his study time.
At best, Steve gets an excuse to really know Eddie, a viable reason to hang around. Certainly not the worst idea indeed. Steve plugged the key into the ignition, humming in satisfaction at the smooth rumble springing up from beneath him.
As he started pulling out of the driveway he flicked on the radio, flipping through the channels until giving up and sliding in his ABBA tape. He smiled at the song that filtered through his speaker
"Honey honey, how he thrills me, a-ha, honey honey, Honey honey, nearly kills me, a-ha, honey honey"
Steve didn't examine why exactly he was so excited at the prospect of hanging out at Eddie Muson's house, but it certainly didn't have anything to do with the bubbly feeling swelling in his chest.
"I've heard about him before, I wanted to know some more, And now I know what they mean, he's a love machine
Oh, he makes me dizzy"
Definitely not.