Archive of Our Own ^beta

Math had never been Steve’s strongest subject, and of all the horrors the subject had tortured him (and his poor GPA) with, Trig / Pre-Calc really was the worst. He hardly followed along with what Mrs. Boyd said on his best days, but the past few weeks it’d been even worse. Even when he was staring directly at her mouth he couldn’t quite get his brain to process what she was saying, and it bit him in the ass constantly. Like presently, as it took him just a moment too long to realize he was making eye contact as she asked for a volunteer to explain the law of cosines. Steve whipped his head down and leaned to the side to grab at his backpack sitting on the floor by his desk, biting back a groan at the way the sudden movement made his head ache.

“Mr. Harrington? Would you like to answer?”

She was calling on him. He’d fucked his head up even more for no reason; she’d already locked on to him. Sighing, he sat up slowly, wincing at the overhead lights coming back into direct view. Someone behind him said something smartassed – he could hardly parse the actual words, but he didn’t need to know exactly what’d been said to realize the choked snickers meant it was at his expense.

“Uh, yeah. So it’s, uh. It’s how the length of the sides of a triangle relate to the angles inside it?”

“Very close, you’ve almost got it! Could you specify – what about the angle?”

Steve was seconds away from telling kind, friendly, aging-alpha Mrs. Boyd that he was fucked if he knew any extra details about the damn angle when the door to the classroom opened and some petrified looking freshman stuck their head in the door.

“Mrs. Boyd? Coach Rollins needs Steve Harrington in the guidance office.”

Steve took the intervention for the gift it was and immediately set about gathering his things up. He was vaguely aware of the class behind him ooo-ing, and Mrs. Boyd asking the freshman for the admin slip excusing him from the end of class. He made his way for the door as soon as he could. Behind him, Mrs. Boyd called out something about the homework and Steve turned to give her a bright smile and a nod before taking off. He had no idea what she’d said the assignment was, but that’s what the syllabus was for. He’d figure it out later.

Time seemed to fog for a second, and then he was in the guidance counselor’s office sitting on one side of the overly large metal desk. Coach Rollins – otherwise known to students as Rolo, PE teacher extraordinaire and boys’ swim coach – sat in a folding chair to the right of the counselor, Mr. Wright. Coach Morton stood in the corner of the room way off to Steve’s left with his arms crossed and a stoic look on his face. The guidance counselor’s office was all whitewashed brick with sporadic motivational posters and fluorescent lighting. It felt dingy and small, especially with three grown alphas all staring him down. Steve frowned and wondered what he’d missed in the brain fog to make them all grimace at him.

Mr. Wright clasped his hands and leaned forward, elbows planted on his desk.

“Are you with us, Stefanos?”

“Yeah, yeah, I am, sorry. What…?”

Mr. Wright waved him off. “No need to apologize, Mr. Harrington. This is exactly why we’ve called you in here. Bud, you are very obviously not well. Coach Rollins, Coach Morton, and I, well. We believe you’re concussed. Incredibly concussed. You haven’t turned in any paperwork with the nurse, so we can’t say for certain, but you’ve been struggling since a bit after Halloween – it’s the second week of December, Steve. That is a worryingly long time to still be feeling the effects like this.”

“I’m not!” Steve knew his voice was too loud, and dialed it back before continuing, “I mean, I was, but I’m not anymore. I’m a lot better now, believe me.”

“That is not the encouragement you think it is, young man.” Mr. Wright peered over his bifocals at Steve. “I read your last college entrance essay and while writing has never been your strongest suit, the first drafts you showed me back in August when you first asked for my help are leagues better than what you handed in for review at the beginning of this week.”

“Steve,” Rolo stood and came around the desk and sat on the edge nearer to Steve. He didn’t notice the look of annoyance Mr. Wright gave him, and the blatant irritation on the counselor’s face pulled Steve’s attention long enough that he almost completely missed what his coach was saying. “We’re benching you from all sport as a… due diligence.”

“What?! No! Rolo, please –”

Coach Rollins held up a hand, talking over Steve. “Unless you can go to a doctor in the next week and produce us some evidence that you’re definitely not as concussed as you’re presently acting, then you’re done.”

“Wait.” For a moment, Steve thought his ears had spontaneously started ringing, but after a second, he realized it was just the end of period bell. “What do you mean, done?”

“You know what we mean, son.” Coach Morton finally chimed in, and it was the defeat in his voice that clued Steve in to how badly his Senior year was about to get screwed over. “You’re benched for the rest of the year, Steve-o. No swim, no basketball – we’ll still let you have your varsity letters and you’ll sit with the teams for yearbook photos first week of January, but nothing physical.”

“This isn’t fair! Even if I maybe am a little concussed still, which I’m not, I definitely won’t still be by next semester! I literally have PE next period; I need this semester and next semester gym to even graduate. What about that, huh?”

Coach Morton sighed at him and waved a hand dismissively, like he was clearing so much cigarette smoke from the air. “Relax, Mr. Harrington. While it is true that your head injury should be healed by winter break’s end, the fact remains that you’re still unpresented. There’s new research that says that too many traumatic injuries can cause permanent developmental delays in late bloomers like yourself, and the school administration would rather avoid any liability in… exacerbating your situation. Especially given the scrutiny that Mitchfield High School is currently under.”

“Dumbasses let one of their kids wrestle with his head all banged up and the poor alpha passed out at a match. They got the book thrown at them so hard that everyone in the district’s freaked. Hawkins High can’t chance it, Steve.” Rollins leaned forward to clap Steve on the shoulder.

“Don’t worry about your graduation requirements, Mr. Harrington. Coach Morton was able to offer up a solution to the matter!” Mr. Wright spoke through a gritted smile, and Steve couldn’t help but wonder what he was so tense for.

He wasn’t the one who’d spent all Halloween fighting with his girlfriend, and then in the days after gotten roped into a bunch of Upside Down hell nonsense by a bunch of mouthy kids and gotten his ass kicked by Billy Hargrove, only to get broken up with shortly thereafter, and was now having what little good was left of his Senior year forcibly ripped away just because he was unpresented and got headaches sometimes. Dickhead. The bell signaling the beginning of the next period rang, and Coach Rollins stood to leave. He clapped Steve on the shoulder as he headed to class without him, leaving Steve behind with Mr. Wright and Coach Morton.

“At first it seemed like your only options were to do a semester of band or choir as a gym alternative, but Mrs. Morton was talking to me at dinner last night, and she mentioned something I think we can use to help you. She works at the YMCA over in Parrstown and she mentioned they need someone to work the front desk and do equipment inventory stuff. Congrats – you now have a co-op in place of gym as your last class of the day.”

“Here’s your rearranged schedule and a hall pass.” Steve felt like he was moving on autopilot as he accepted the cardstock and pink slip of paper from Mr. Wright. “You have Advanced Chemistry next period now. For the next week and a half you can use your end of the day gym period as a study hall, and beginning next semester you’ll be using it to drive to the Y in the next town over.”

“So, I’m too concussed to do sports at Hawkins but I can drive to Parrstown every day?”

Coach Morton cut Steve a sharp look. “Do you want us to recommend the police department revoke your driving license due to head trauma?”

“No, sir, never mind, sir. Sorry.” Steve stood slowly and packed up his things, desperate to get out of that room but too mindful of his head to move too quickly. It wouldn’t do to flinch or wince where Morton and Wright could see him.

“Steve, if I can offer a bit of advice?” Steve paused at the door and looked back at the guidance counselor, who frowned at him in sympathy. “Maybe take advantage of the librarians during your personal study this semester, see if they can’t help you with those college entrance essays. You’ve missed early admission deadlines, but you can still make regular admissions if you focus. And who knows! Maybe the calm will finally help you present.”

“Yeah, Mr. Wright. Sure thing.”

Steve walked out of the room into an empty hallway. He made his way to his locker to pick up his Chemistry book, something he normally did after gym. He screwed up his lock’s combination twice and gave up, pressing his forehead into the cool metal. He needed a minute, just to breathe, and then he’d try again. Just a second to breathe. How had his life gotten so fucked? Slowly, he tried his combination again, and fucked it up again. Steve kicked the locker in frustration, and immediately started hopping around in pain.

“Fucking shit! Dammit!” He hopped in a half circle to see Carol Perkins staring at him in disgust and came to an immediate halt.

She lifted the scent patch from her neck by the corner, letting her scent fill the hall and convey just how unimpressed with him she was. Steve knew Carol smelled like peppercorn and rhubarb from memories of long afternoons cuddled together in front of the TV, back when he and Tommy had both been unpresented and it took time and extra effort to pick out the individual notes of another person’s scent. It was only memory, though. There in the hall, all Steve could pick up was coppery, earthy, disappointed alpha.

She waited until he’d ducked his head in acknowledgment before smoothing it back over her scent gland, and then stepped forward. He skirted sideways out of her way, not certain what to say, afraid that if he said anything at all she’d leave. Tommy had spent all of fall semester hanging off of Billy Hargrove and trying to provoke Steve’s attention, but this was the first time in weeks Carol had even looked at him.

He decided to wait for her to say something first, but she didn’t. She put in his combination, opened the lock on the first try, and walked off without a single backward glance. Steve stared after her until she’d turned a corner, and then, embarrassed, scented the air for anything left of when she’d taken the patch off. He’d missed her and Tommy more than he’d been willing to admit, and he was grateful for the crumbs of attention, pitiful as they were. He collected his chemistry book and his most recent attempt at a college entrance essay, shut his locker, and headed off to class.

Steve pulled up to the Y, windows down and radio blasting. He tried to let Journey lift his spirits, make him feel better about the way his life was going. No friends, no pack, no sports. He’d slept like shit the night before, and had been for weeks. The second semester had only been underway for a week, and the past five days had already felt like the longest years of his life. And he’d been in the Upside Down. At least the Y was usually quiet while he worked. Crowds started to pick up just as his shift ended, and as long as things stayed that way Steve was sure he’d be fine. At least one of the colleges he’d applied to had to let him in, so long as he collected all his credits.

There was a heavy pressure in the front of his skull, which made him grimace. He’d really thought the migraine symptoms would have started to ease up by the time the New Year went by. With a sigh, he rolled up his windows and cut the engine. He popped a few ibuprofen and replaced the scent patches on either side of his neck, grabbed his bag, and then headed inside to the front desk. “Fresh patches at the beginning of a shift” was YMCA policy, but it seemed silly for him to be doing it when he hadn’t even presented yet. In fact, a few of his colleagues had gone out of their way to tell him that he didn’t have to bother, that his salty minty scent was unobtrusive and never seemed to be projecting anything distracting.

He shoved his things into his personal locker in the office behind the desk, and did a round of the front of the gym. He double-checked the water fountains were operational and that the complimentary towels were clean and fully stocked up. Satisfied with how the prior shift had left things (despite the fact that whoever it was never waited for him to show up before leaving), Steve made his way to the chair that would be his home for the next hour and fifteen minutes. Right on schedule, one of the main reasons he was so diligent with his patches walked in. One by one, a group of omegas filtered in and headed for the rooms they booked for Daily Omega-Only Jazzercise Class, waving at him as they arrived. In the week he’d been on duty, he’d overheard different members of the class complain about how omegas always got shit for not wearing scent patches but no one ever gave other designations the same grief. The jazzercise class were some of his favorite clients, and he wanted to make them feel as comfortable as possible.

“Hey, Cindy. Hi, Terrance. Hello, Alex. Welcome in, you guys. Towels in the same place as always.”

“Hi, Steve! Thanks so much.”

He continued to greet them as they all entered, and then settled. He took out his Advanced Chemistry book, and started rereading the lesson from that day. It wasn’t easy, and he found himself re-reading sections over and over until they made sense, but he’d gotten a C in Chemistry Junior year and he wanted to pass again. Now that he knew he could do it, it seemed more attainable, even though the Advanced work was even harder. Every now and then he glanced up, just to keep an eye on the guests entering and make sure no one who wasn’t wearing an Omega armband entered the Jazzercise room. Forty-five minutes later, the class ended.

“Bye, Tammy! See you tomorrow, K. Hope you enjoyed the workout, Smith. Bye, Mrs. Jennings.”

“Oh, thank you for your hard work, Steve.” Mrs. Jennings smiled as she approached the front desk. “I’m not leaving just quite yet. I’m going to walk on the indoor track a bit. Is there a locker I can use in the meantime?”

Steve waved over her shoulder at the rest of the Jazzercise class before returning his attention to the middle-aged woman in front of him.

“Sure thing, Mrs. Jennings. All the lockers can be found in the locker rooms down that way. Head for the omega locker room, and turn right for the women’s side. Pick any one that’s empty. Do you already have your own lock or do you want to rent one?”

“I’d like to rent a lock, please. How much?”

“Sure. That’s $1.50 for the day; here’s the lock with its key in it. Have a good workout!”

Steve watched Mrs. Jennings leave and then sat back down. With less than 30 minutes in his shift, getting any further in chemistry was a bust. By the time he got the next concept halfway down it’d be time to walk out the door and he had zero desire to hang around longer than necessary. The drive back to Hawkins from Parrstown was a solid half hour and he needed to swing by the drugstore on top of that. Looking out into the parking lot, he made sure no one was approaching and then took the lull to duck into the office. He grabbed his bag and went back to the front, just in time to catch two alphas in their early twenties trying to sneak in. Honestly, even if he hadn’t seen them, he would’ve smelled them for sure, patchless as they were.

“Hey, hey! Come show your membership card and sign in or scram.”

“Aw, come on Steve. You know his membership lapsed and his mom won’t pay to extend it.”

“Well then, it’s fortunate every member can bring in one guest, isn’t it? Come sign in.”

The two men slunk over to the counter sheepishly to sign the book on the counters. “Haha, I forgot about that.”

“Yeah, yeah, go play basketball.”

The alphas sprinted to the indoor court, and Steve went back to packing his things up. He put his backpack on and bounced around, watching the clock countdown to freedom. His co-worker Tabitha walked in just as the clock hit 3:30pm, and Steve didn’t even bother walking around to get to the lobby.

“See ya, Tabs! Call if you need me to bring anything in tomorrow!” He called as he vaulted the desk and jogged right out the door to freedom. He was halfway to the car when he heard a voice calling his name.

“Steve, oh, Steve! Wait one moment!”

He closed his eyes, let out a small huff through his nose, and then turned around with a bright smile. “Mrs. Jennings! If you need anything else, Tabitha up at the desk can help –”

“No, no, Steve. I wanted to give you this.” Mrs. Jennings looked around furtively, and then pressed a small strip of paper into his hand.

No fucking way. Steve glanced down at the paper. He saw the beginning digits of a phone number and felt his face heat up. Scrubbing a hand through his hair, he laughed awkwardly, looking around to be sure no one had noticed them.

“Ah… I’m sorry, Mrs. Jennings, but I can’t take this. I know how it might seem, since I work here during the afternoon so you’d expect there to be no school-aged children at the Y but, ma’am, I am in fact very much a school-aged child.”

“Oh! Oh, no! This is to help you! Ya know. With your little problem. I’m very happily married to my own beta so I know… well, I don’t know personally, but I– Just call, they’ll tell you everything.”

Mrs. Jennings powered walked back into the Y without a backward glance, leaving Steve standing around not a little helplessly.

For a Saturday, the grocery store wasn’t that crowded, and yet Steve still felt hyperaware of every single person in the building. Not that he could’ve said how many people were in the store, or what their designations were. Unpresented as he was and with most people wearing scent patches, he couldn’t even really smell most of them, and he wasn’t close enough to any of the other shoppers to know their scent based on familiarity alone the way an unpresented pup could their parents. Still, he had this creeping awareness of people nearby, coming closer and moving away in equal measure as they wandered the aisles. It wasn’t painful, so much as discomfiting. Steve shook his head to clear it and immediately regretted it, the low-level headache sitting just at his temples flaring up.

“There’s no food in the house; I can’t just leave. There’s no food in the house; I can’t just leave,” he muttered under his breath, and pushed his cart on. All he had left to do was grab eggs and get through check out, and then he’d be home free. “There’s no food in the house; I can’t just leave.”

He took a slow deep breath in, and then moved on, determined to get the errand out of the way. As soon as he got home, he’d feel fine again, he was certain. It took twenty minutes that felt like an eternity, and then Steve was outside. The open air made the sense of hyperawareness die down, but the cold, crisp air and smell of snow made his headache worse. He looked up at the cloudy sky and cursed under his breath. He hoped that the snow would only flurry, and melt fast besides, because he was in no shape to shovel the driveway. Fuck knew his dad would make him do it, too.

He unloaded the groceries into his car, splitting the bags between the back seat and the trunk. Finished, he speed-walked the cart over to its carousel. As he got closer, the sight of a strange lump near the corner of the grocery store resolved itself into one of Hawkins’ drug dealers, crouched over and huddled inside his battered leather jacket. Weed would do more for his headache than the over-the-counter medicine he’d gotten inside, but his parents were home and hated when he smoked. Was the relief worth maybe getting caught? Steve flexed his grip on the handle of the cart a few times, pondering.

Behind him a car honked, and he flinched at the sound. Yeah, he needed that fucking pot. Steve barely pushed the cart forward and strode over to Eddie Munson, steps sure and determined. He didn’t bother trying to be quiet, not wanting to scare the older guy and find himself on the other end of his startled right hook. He’d seen it happen to Tommy and had no desire to experience it himself. The thought of Tommy made him sad again, and his steps faltered. It really wasn’t fucking fair. Friends since they were six, and this was how it fizzled out?

Eddie twitched like he heard him walking up, but didn’t turn to see who was approaching him. Steve stopped a few paces away and called out to the other boy.

“Hey, Munson. I’ve got cash if you’ve got any weed on ya.”

“Well, well, well. If it isn’t Hawkins’ very own former basketball captain. What’s got you out here buying your own wares, Your Highness? Did Hagan really ditch you for Hargrove? I thought for sure you two would work out your little lovers’ spat.”

Eddie’s smile was mean, but he was also digging through his pockets to pull out a little baggie, so Steve just sighed and proffered the cash. Eddie frowned as they made the trade, and raised one hand to scratch at the scent patch on his neck. His hands were red with chill, darker around the knuckles.

“Harrington? What, nothing to say back? You good, man?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. Thanks, Munson. And wear your gloves instead of leaving them in your back pocket; it’s cold.”

Steve lifted up the baggie in salute, and then shoved his hands into his jacket pockets and walked back towards his car. His mind was stuck on Tommy. Munson wasn’t the only one who’d thought he and Tommy would work it out and go back to being friends. And it wasn’t like Tommy couldn’t have other friends beside Steve, and Steve wasn’t one of those assholes who wanted to limit who omegas spoke to, but Hargrove wasn’t just anyone. Max was scared of him, and he was probably the source of the concussion that Steve just couldn’t seem to shake. And the fucker had stolen his best friend! He got into the car and cranked it, and left the parking lot still brooding.

Traffic was light on the way to Loch Nora, and Steve’s mind lingered on his former friends. He wondered if Tommy and Carol had broken up, or if Senior year had just led to a maturity he wasn’t privy to, and that’s the reason they didn’t hang all over each other in the cafeteria anymore. Not that Steve really knew, since every day at lunch he sat with the guys from the swim team now. He hadn’t really seen Carol around at all, just glimpses from opposite ends of the hallways. The last time they’d been close was when she’d opened his locker for him and let him scent her, last semester. The three of them were never an official pack, but once Carol had presented as an alpha, they’d all definitely assumed that they would be one day.

Steve had assumed it.

And now he didn’t have either one of them, and had no clue whether they still had each other.

Finally home, he put the car in park. He grabbed the bag with the eggs and milk first and opened the front door.

“I’m home! Mom? Dad? Will one of you help me bring this stuff in? I noticed we were out of bread so I got more and I got the canned green beans you asked for, but all the canned stuff is still in the Bimmer!”

The house was suspiciously silent. Steve hadn’t opened the garage when he returned because both his parents’ cars had been in there when he left. He’d assumed they were still parked in there; he’d only been gone two hours. He made his way down the hall, past the sitting room, and into the kitchen, calling for his parents as he went.

“Mom? Dad?”

Steve put away the eggs, milk, and cheese, and then he noticed the paper stuck on the side of the fridge with a magnet he’d painted in kindergarten. Groaning, he snatched the note down; his Mom only used that magnet for one thing. He leaned against the kitchen island, ankles crossed, and skimmed his eyes across the latest excuse to ditch him at home.

Hi, Stevie, thanks for getting the groceries; as soon as you left your Father got a call about an emergency at the plant in Kansas City. We’ve got to go check in on it; not sure when we’ll be back. Love you lots! – Mom
P.S. Eat your vegetables or you’ll never present.

“But I bought all these groceries! I can’t eat all this by myself?! They just got back from the last trip, I –” He was yelling to no one, and only making his own headache worse. With a sigh, he tossed the note on the counter and went outside to bring in the rest of the food he’d bought for his family.

Over the weekend and the next week, the headache that started on Saturday got worse and worse. His sleep didn’t get any better, his appetite came and went faster than he could get to food. He noticed himself having to fight to be pleasant with the gym goers at the Y over simple things like the sound of heavy breathing, and despite his ever-decreasing well of patience he still followed people around, over-solicitous and constantly offering towels and water bottle refills. That wasn’t even his job.

The only thing getting him through was weed, and when he ran out he drove around town twice looking for Munson. Outside the mini mart, Steve finally gave up. He pulled into the gravel lot and let his head rest against the steering wheel. The sound of a bell indicated the mini mart’s front door opening, and Steve had suffered the Upside Down too much to not give a cursory attempt at situational awareness. He peered up and froze. It was Tommy and Carol, smiling and laughing. Tommy held the door open for her, and she walked out into the lot towards where Tommy’s Oldsmobile was parked. Tommy followed, face bright as he continued talking.

They were in the car and on the road and then gone, and when the Oldsmobile pulled out of sight Steve felt the discomfort of the past week creeping back in, which was the only reason he realized that while he could see them it had disappeared.

“What the fuck is going on with me?” He muttered, staring at nothing. He’d thought it was the concussion, but now that he really considered it concussions didn’t last this long. It’d been well beyond six weeks, which was the longest he’d ever heard of one lasting.

He felt like he should call someone. Not his parents, they’d just left for who knew how long. Not Nancy. Dustin could probably figure it out, but he was just a kid himself. Also, he’d probably tell the rest of the Party, and then Steve would have half a dozen pups banging around his house pretending to help and eating all his food. Actually, inviting the kids over to help clear out the groceries he’d bought wasn’t a half bad idea. And he could cook dinner for them, and ask them how school was going, and give advice – not that they’d listen at all. He started to feel better as he planned, and then he remembered his parents.

Steve immediately deflated, settling back in the driver’s seat. They didn’t mind him babysitting, but his dad had asked him to try to stick to watching the whole group of kids at one of their own houses after that random time in November when they’d tried to raise a racoon in the Harrington garage. They’d told him they thought it was a demo-raccoon and he hadn’t wanted them messing with it alone. It turned out to be a very normal, very wild raccoon, and it had gotten into the laundry room to make a very, very expensive mess. He still needed to figure out who to ask for help. Maybe Rolo or Mr. Wright? A piece of paper caught his attention out of the corner of his eye. He tugged it out of the sun visor, and realized it was the paper Mrs. Jennings had given him.

That was the day he’d started feeling off, now that he considered it. Had she noticed something about him? Right outside the mini mart was a pay phone, and the parking lot had emptied out while he was thinking. Impulse moved him, and the next thing he knew, Steve was standing outside, feeding quarters into the phone and dialing. It rang three times before someone picked up.

“Betas Bettering Betas, how may I help you?”

Betas? What the fuck? Steve pulled the phone away from his ear and looked at it. He heard whoever had answered call out hello, and he decided to just run with it.

“Oh, um, I don’t know if you can help me… Someone gave me this number and said I should call… I didn’t think she’d be the pranking type but maybe…”

“My name is Janice. May I ask you a few questions?”

Janice had a kind voice, and Steve had nothing better to do. “Uh, Sure?”

“What name shall I call you?”

“Steve, I’m Steve.”

“Alright, Steve! To begin, how old are you? You can give an age range if you prefer.”

“I’m almost 18. Next week, actually.”

“And have you presented yet? This is a yes or no question, no need to give specific details, and you can skip this if you prefer.”

Steve huddled into the phone, whispering even though there was no one to overhear and the fact that he’d yet to present was common knowledge in town. “Um, no, I’m a late bloomer or whatever.”

“Have you been feeling unbalanced? Restless to discover and tend to the material needs of those around you? An increase in concern for peacekeeping and pacifying those you see regularly? A willingness to fight if necessary to achieve that calm?”

Steve thought back on the way he’d been scuttling around the Y recently, the extra groceries he’d added in for his parents even though the grocery store had been overstimulating to be in. And then he thought back on the everything about the Upside Down last year: following Dustin into looking for Dart right away, telling Nancy it was okay when she dumped him, the way he gave up the sports he loved so quickly just because the coaches and counselor had asked, the number of times he let all the kids watch movies at his house pre-raccoon. Hell, he’d let Dustin and Lucas hang out in his backyard just the night before even though he’d been dog-tired with a major headache. Having them around had made him forget the headache for a while, even.

“Yes, I definitely have.”

“I see. Do you spend a regular amount of time around the same people? Or have you recently had a major change in social group?”

Steve scoffed, “Yeah, I’ll say. Twice in the past two years, honestly.” From Tommy and Carol to Nancy and the Party, to just the kids and them only occasionally. He had other friends, of course, people he talked to at school and at the Y, but they weren’t the kind of people he’d invite over unless he was throwing a big party. No one he’d call up for dinner or anything.

“Now, these following questions may seem a bit personal - have you been experiencing headaches, erratic appetite, restlessness, insomnia?”

“Yeah, but I got a concussion a while back. Sports, ya know?”

“Of course, that makes complete sense.” Janice was conciliatory, and pushed on quickly. “Do you notice these symptoms most often when in large groups and crowded areas? Or when you’re alone?”

“When.. when I’m by myself. Though crowded stores and stuff don’t help.”

“Steve, I believe whoever gave you this number believes that you are not unpresented. Rather, they likely think you have presented, and presented as a beta at that.”

“I’m sorry, betas present? Isn’t just, if you hit 25 and you’re still not an alpha or an omega then the government calls you a beta?”

“That’s a very common misconception! Beta Sex Ed isn’t a typically required high school course like Alpha Sex Ed and Omega Sex Ed often are and it leads to a lot of confusion. However, betas actually present around the same age as their omega and alpha peers, though in far fewer numbers
Most importantly, betas require stable, balanced, social environments, and their bodies will react to encourage them to seek such environments. I don’t mean to overstep, but I suspect someone who cares about you thought they noticed something in your recent behavior and referred you to us.”

“What.” Steve clenched the phone receiver in hand, heartbeat racing.

“This can be surprising information, Steve, I know. And there’s plenty more you can learn about beta presentation, and what living as a beta means. A few articles on the topic of beta presentation have been published in the academic journals Annual Review of Public Health, Secondary Gender Research Reviews, and the Journal of Adolescent Health Care; I’m sure a librarian will be able to give you microform access to at least one of those. And of course, you can always get more information from your primary care physician. If you’d like, I can also tell you what to say at your local health clinic to get more answers, and get you on the right path to health and wellness. You can also call this line at any time, and the staff and volunteers here at Betas Bettering Betas will try to connect you to whatever you need.”

“Janice, you’ve been real informative, and that is so great of you. I’m… I’m gonna hang up now, okay?”

“Steve, if I may? This is a new perspective, and it can be hard to navigate alone, especially if you really did present as a beta without realizing. Take your time, talk to your family and friends. Being a beta isn’t any better or worse than being an alpha or an omega; it’s just a little different. You’re going to be fine.”

Steve pressed his forehead against the cool metal housing the payphone, and took in a deep breath. Betas were just another secondary gender. He’d be fine. Realizing how much information he’d somehow missed was a little scary, but discovering the Upside Down was way worse than discovering he might be a beta, and he’d already survived that. Feeling calmer, he spoke into the phone again.

“Uh, thanks Janice. I’m still going to hang up on you, but I am feeling a little better. I need to talk to some people, and uh. If I need anything I’ll call back. Bye.”

“You have a good day, Steve. Goodbye, and good luck!”

Steve hung up the phone and stood there a few moments longer. Eventually, he turned and got back in his car. He was going home and going to sleep. Janice had given him plenty of suggestions: talking to his doctor (absolutely not), researching at the library (not his strongest skill), and talking to his family and friends. That he could do. His parents were who-knew-where, but he’d gone long enough moping about Carol and Tommy. He was going to get his fucking friends back.

There were plenty of things Steve wasn’t great at. He often needed six or seven drafts before his essays felt even marginally presentable to other people. He had a bad habit of jumping to conclusions (and furthermore his assumptions were usually correct, which only encouraged him to assume more). He’d never been in a fight before he started swinging baseball bats at demo-whatsits and or his fists at fucking Hargrove, so he was a little green in that regard. And he couldn’t hardly scent other people worth shit. The closer he got to someone the easier it was to pick up the layers and emotions they gave off, but it didn’t come easily. He’d only just been beginning to figure out the undernotes to Nancy’s earthy coppery scent when he’d let himself be dumped for Jonathan last November. He never had learned what notes spiked when she was happy.

One thing he was good at? Charming people. As long as he was focused on a person, he could figure out how to relate to them. He could pick out insecurities and points of pride and areas that he and another person had in common easily; he was a charismatic team captain, a fun classmate, the host with the most always. Classmates who didn’t know him personally still felt like they did, and even the ones who hated him couldn’t look away when he got going. Steve Harrington was the number one social butterfly of Hawkins High, and he’d charmed Tommy Hagan into being his friend once before. It was about time he got around to doing it again.

Steve shifted where he sat in the little strip of grass between the sidewalk and the curb, and settled to lean back against his own front tire. His ass had started to go numb something like 20 minutes ago, and the sun had started setting, but he refused to get up from where he sat waiting. Tommy was being stubborn, but he’d earned that. Not that Steve didn’t think Tommy was totally innocent in all their dysfunction, but it did sorta suck that the last time they’d spoken Steve had left him on the side of the road.

He knew how it looked – boy gets a girlfriend, abandons his two best friends, doesn’t try to talk again until after he and the girlfriend have a semi-public fight and then break up. Tommy needed a little groveling to offset how shit it all was, and Steve was prepared to give him that. If he was a little smarter and a little less bullheaded, he’d get in the Bimmer and drive home. Maybe have a sandwich for dinner, check the house’s messages to see if his parents would be back that week or the next. Instead, he stood his ground, staring mulishly up at Tommy's bedroom window, watching the curtains twitch.

Stubborn fucker was staring right back.

Steve had knocked when he first arrived. He hadn't really expected Tommy to open the door, but he'd been hoping that the garage door was down because Mrs. Hagan was home from Rotary Club already. She loved him, and made no secret of the fact that she disapproved of how often his mom left him home alone to follow his dad on work trips. Mrs. Hagan always let him in, even when he and Tommy were fighting (an incredibly common occurrence, given they’d been friends since 1st grade). He was going to get in that house. Be it because Tommy gave in, because Mrs. Hagan came home and let him in, or because Carol came by and refused to be left outside just to keep Steve out.

Tommy disappeared from the window again.

Steve relaxed. Janice really had been on to something about him maybe being a beta and finding comfort in peace-seeking because he felt better sitting outside in his best friend’s front yard than he had in months. He pulled his feet in until he was sitting crisscross, and grinned. His mouth was hidden in his scarf but Tommy knew him well enough to see it in his body language, and he flung the window open, red-faced and already yelling.

“Harrington, you smug fucker! Get your car from in front of my house! Fuck off!”

Steve tilted his head backwards to holler a reply, and fell against the car a little because his balance was still kinda fucked. “I love you, Tommy! You’re my best friend, and I’m sorry I handled our last fight how I did.”

Tommy scowled and slammed the window shut, pulling the drapes behind him. A few minutes later, he opened the front door and stood on the porch, arms crossed in suspicion.

“You admit you were wrong and Carol and me were right?”

“Fuck no,” Steve scoffed, “we were all outta line. We shouldn’t have spray painted what we did about Nancy, I shouldn’t have fought Jonathan or said that stuff to him, and you two shouldn’t have kept digging at it like we were right. I shouldn’t have yelled at you guys like that and drove off though, and I am sorry for that.”

Tommy stared down the road, jaw twitching from how hard he had it clenched. Steve was too far away from him to see if he had goosebumps, but given that he’d been lounging inside he wasn’t at all dressed for the weather. He waited and waited, and finally Tommy looked at him again.

“Whatever. Have you apologized to Carol?”

“Of course. I went to see her first; she’s our fucking alpha.”

“Man, whatever. Come inside, or don’t. I don’t care.” Tommy sounded sullen as he spoke, but he held the front door open until Steve made it over the threshold. That was the thing with Tommy – what he did was always more important than what he said, which maybe wasn’t the healthiest thing but it was consistent.

Steve shut the front door behind him and then lingered there in the mudroom. His shoes came off and went on the rack; his coat and scarf came off and went on the wall hook together. He padded deeper into the house, years of memories guiding him through the formal dining room and living room, past the sunroom, into the kitchen. He found Tommy bustling around, the phone with the long cord tucked between his ear and shoulder. Tommy directed him to sit on a stool at the breakfast bar, and as soon as Steve was settled he placed a cup of tea and a plate of toast in front of him. Steve reached for the tea first, only to draw his hand back to avoid Tommy smacking him.

“Stop fucking around! No, sorry, Carol, I was talking to Steve, hold on – let the tea keep steeping, it’s not done yet, loser. Look at it, the color’s still off. Anyway, what? Yeah, he’s over here.” Tommy slid across the kitchen tiles, closing up the bread bag and putting it away. “Hmm? Yes, he was appropriately sorry. Uh huh. Uh huh. Okay, see you soon.”

Carol was on her way over. It wasn’t surprising, per se, but Steve still hadn’t expected it. When he’d stopped by hers to apologize earlier that morning she’d been just as stoic and stand-offish as she was that one day in the hall. She forgave him, but hadn’t attempted to reinitiate friendship. Others might have been disheartened by it but Steve knew she was waiting for him to make up with Tommy. He’d thought she might meet him at his locker the next day, or give him a call over the weekend perhaps. But she was coming right then! And she hated having to drive herself places. Steve shoved a piece of toast in his mouth to try and hide his smile.

Tommy laughed at him, and scrubbed at his hair good-naturedly. Normally, Steve would duck away from any attempts to mess up his hair, but he’d missed the scuffing and scruffing and scenting from his omega friend. There was no shame in Tommy knowing Steve was excited to see their alpha again, and he had no interest in hiding it. Instead, he leaned into Tommy’s hand to relearn the notes of lime and garden tomato, trying to parse out the undernote of olives. His antics caused the other boy to smile gently. Tommy came around the counter and pulled out the stool beside Steve’s, and when he leaned his head on Steve’s shoulder his scent grew clearer and more potent.

A few hours later found the three of them holed up in Tommy’s bedroom, sitting on the floor near his nest but not in it, just like old times. The whole room smelled earthy, fruity, and warm like Tommy. Tommy was holding on to Carol’s cache of nail polishes while she did Steve’s hands, passing back and forth bottles of base coat, baby pink, and top coat as she worked. Tommy’s record player spun on a shelf in the corner, volume low as INXS ‘To Look At You’ played. Carol hummed along with Michael, and Steve felt a pang in his chest. If he’d been around, he’d probably know Tommy’s music as well as Carol did.

Carol huffed at him, her fingers tapping quickly on the inside of Steve’s palm to get his attention. “Oh, don’t start it again. You were just starting to look normal.”

“What,” Steve laughed.

“I spent the past year and some change watching you get sadder and more pathetic by the month, but you’ve been smiling since I got here. Until just now, of course, when you started getting all bitchy. And not in a fun way!”

“Fine! Fine, no more moping, will you please finish so I can sit up while they dry?”

“Actually,” Tommy chimed in, “I’ve been wondering – despite how bedraggled and lonesome you looked you never said anything. What made you come crawling back, finally?”

Steve’s leg shot out to kick at Tommy, and he laughed at how the omega yelped and dodged.

“Hold still, Steve! If you mess me up, I’m just going to clean them off and start over, you know I will!”

It felt fun, to be back in the middle of the playful jabs and banter. Steve had spent weeks watching the Party interact, envious of how they played off each other and aware that he was too old to rough about with them like they were all pups together. There was an ease to their interactions he’d been scared would be gone, and it made him feel even lighter to see it wasn’t. It made him feel so light, in fact, that Steve began speaking without reconsidering his words.

“One of the ladies who does jazzercise at my co-op thinks I might be a beta. I think she’s probably right, and when I thought about who I wanted to share it with, I thought about you two. I just missed you too much, all of a sudden, is all.”

Carol and Tommy both froze, and stared at Steve. He stared back, impassive. Mrs. Jennings and Janice From The Phone had given him good pointers, but it was being in that room that convinced him more than anything else. Of course, he was a beta – how else to explain the way the three of them fit together? One alpha, one omega, one beta. A pack. And nothing about his newly discovered designation could harm him if he had his pack with him.

“I… you’re not even 20 yet, how could you know you’re a beta?” Carol asked, tone carefully measured as she resumed finishing the top coat on his pinky.

Satisfied, Steve sat back from her with his hands splayed. His own manicures never came out as good as the ones Carol did for him. “So it turns out, betas aren’t a leftover catch-all category or anything. I ended up calling this hotline, like, twice, and the lady explained that betas present at the same ages omegas and alphas do; it’s just more subtle. So subtle, in fact, that betas often don’t notice it happening, which is why they get to their mid-20s, get desperate, and go to the doctor. They do a blood test for hormone levels, they find umbexian, wham bam that’s a beta.”

Tommy scoffed immediately. He set aside Carol’s nail polishes and launched himself at Steve, rolling them until Steve was on his back with Tommy’s hands pressing down on his shoulders. “Bitch, you went to a doctor? Willingly? Of your own free will and got blood work done?”

“No way, never,” Steve laughed, hands still held out to avoid smearing the polish. “Just – a lot of the stuff the hotline people were saying sounded like me, is all. I still need to do research and stuff. One of their other suggestions was to rely on family and friends, so I came to get you guys.”

Tommy bit him.

He leaned down and bit Steve’s shoulder in frustration, and Steve’s shocked laughter gave way to a short, pained yelp that finally made Tommy let go. Whatever Tommy intended to say next, it gave way to a clipped whine instead that seemed to surprise him as much as it surprised Steve. Both young men’s heads turned to face Carol, who was standing in front of Tommy’s only window. She had one hand on her hip and the other holding a singular scent patch away from her neck. Her scent was all peppery-coppery-vegetal; Tommy focused like she’d verbally demanded his attention and Steve followed his lead, figuring Tommy was probably parsing whatever in her scent was making Steve itch inside. The itch lessened once she had their focus, though she threw the scent patch in the trash instead of putting it back on.

“Steve, did the hotline people tell you any specific resources to look at?” She waited for his confirmation.

“Uh, yeah. She named a bunch of journals that had articles.”

“Well, then, let’s go to the library. It’ll take us a while to get there and then find it on the microfiche, and we only have so long before Tommy’s parents get home and bring all his little brothers with him. We’ll figure out the basics and then go from there.”

Steve felt himself relax. It was a great plan, and he was sure that with all three of them thinking through it together it would be simple to figure out.

It wasn’t simple to figure out.

Steve found himself so flustered and confused that he laid down, right there on the library floor in a daze. The carpet was thin and threadbare, and the overhead lights gave off a watery light. Carol sat in front of the microfiche, curled up in the thinly upholstered wooden chair, while Tommy circled Steve, pacing up and down the aisle. All three of them were obscured by the tall stacks around them, and the pseudo-privacy combined with the overwhelm of information Carol was reading made them all less restrained.

“Tommy, you’ve got to slow down.” Carol sounded distracted as she spoke, voice low and eyes focused on the text scrolling down the screen as she slowly moved the glass tray holding the fiche around. “You know how I get when you wig out.”

“Yeah,” Tommy hissed, voice barely still qualifying as a whisper. “Yeah, you wig when I wig because you can smell that I’m wigging because my omega hormone whatever the fuck tells my body to make my omega pheromone whatever the fuck. And I know you’re starting to wig out because your alpha whatever the fuck is making me smell you.
And now we’re saying Steve’s got stuff going on? He’s got a scent but it just isn’t carrying any information in it. I’m supposed to be able to tell – how can I take care of you if I can’t tell?!” Tommy stopped to stand directly over Steve’s head, probably specifically to ensure that Steve saw the dramatic finger pointing at him.

“Tommy…” Steve started, only to be cut off by Tommy’s continuing rant.

“It doesn’t make sense that his pheromone only affects him and not anyone else. Isn’t communicating with other people what we’ve got scents for?” He knelt on the floor at Carol’s side, and pointed at the screen. “Can you go back to the section on the pheromones? What’s it say, exactly?”

“It says I can’t scent you guys and you guys can’t really scent me. I’m just over here. All smell, with no vibes.” Steve groused, already tired.

“Okay, okay, give me a second.” Carol pulled at the tray, moving the fiche around with one hand and turning the zoom dial with the other. “Here – Pheromones have a number of effects that vary from individual to individual based on environment, diet, and biology, and certain impulses will manifest in different ways due to personality variation. Alpha aggression and omega territoriality exists in all alphas and omegas, though how the behavior is expressed depends on the individuals, blah blah, don’t generalize people, whatever, here! Just as the hormone aphazorol prompts alphas to create and secrete the pheromone sparaphrine and the hormone promeline prompts omegas to create and secrete the pheromone mesparxon, umbexian causes betas to create and secrete suffbexon.
Betas, however, are unique in that suffbexon doesn’t tend to have an external effect on those around them. Rather, it causes betas to automatically regulate their bodies when homeostasis has been disrupted; this can be dangerous in situations where it causes sudden and extreme drops in body temperature, blood pressure, and blood sugar levels.
When the beta scents those around them, the beta picks up passive chemical indicators that their pack is unpresented, past reproduction age, virile and/or fertile. If the group ever leans too far in either direction, suffbexon induces Beta Flux, which is when a beta's main reproductive system switches from carrier to impregnator or vice versa. There is no limit to the number of times a beta of reproductive age can switch in their lifetime.”

Steve pulled his arm up over his eyes, sick of looking at the lights. He heaved a huge sigh, and then did it again because only one didn’t seem to fully convey his frustration.

“What does that even - why does it say I can’t smell anything but who’s horny if I can smell your scents? It’s not easy; I have to spend a bunch of time in close quarters with a person but I do eventually figure out all the details and I’ve never smelled someone’s pre-rut or pre-heat.”

“If I’m understanding it right,” Carol started slowly, eyes darting side to side as she continued to read, “a person’s sense of smell isn’t the same as a person’s ability to scent other people. Most pups can literally smell other people - it’s how we learn to identify our parents when we’re young.
It’s when omegas and alphas present that they also develop the ability to scent, which is the ability to communicate with pheromones. It’s involuntary, like breathing. We share our mental and emotional states and read the mental and emotional states of others without trying. And we can sometimes smell pre-heat and pre-rut in others, all of which is why patches matter. The boost we get in picking out the layers in each other’s scents is incidental.”

“So you’re involuntarily but consciously interpreting each other, like how once you learn how to read you kinda read everything you see automatically.”

Tommy pivoted on the balls of his feet, and shuffled from Carol’s side over to Steve without actually standing up. Once the omega reached him, he rearranged himself until he was sat on the floor with Steve’s head in his lap. Quietly, he carded his fingers through Steve’s hair and massaged at his neck.

“Exactly,” Carol replied. “Meanwhile you - and every beta ever - aren’t involuntarily giving off your mood or your mental, and you aren’t reading anyone else’s either. You are, however, subconsciously able to tell who around you is of-age and in good health and capable of reproduction.
And if there’s too many people who can get knocked up and not enough people to do the knocking - or vice versa - your body will fire off all the necessary hormones to give you whatever reproductive system is outnumbered. Honestly, this is fascinating.” Carol’s voice sounded awed and curious, and even after she stopped explaining she kept reading, all her attention on the academic article in front of her.

Tommy gave a small incredulous huff, barely a laugh. “This can’t be real. Can it? Hey, Stevie, is this real? Your life has been all hellacious lately – do you feel like you’ve been doing a bunch of random shit to get your homeostasis back?”

Steve groaned and dropped his arm down from covering his eyes. His life had been hellacious lately. He had been doing a bunch of random shit. Probably to balance his homeostasis, or whatever the article in Secondary Gender Research Reviews said. He heard the soft clicks of the microform releasing the fiche from its little glass tray. Carol shuffled about, putting it back in its envelope and then turning the machine off.

Fuck. He’d thought it was just a really bad concussion. Almost everyone who knew him had! Which of course made sense since no one could smell his moods via his scent, apparently. He felt Carol curl up against his side, tucking herself in so Tommy’s head rested on her shoulder where he laid across them.

“Steve… we gotta get you stoppers.”

That woke him up. “Get me what, Care?”

“The article, it said stoppers were for betas. It’ll make it so whatever chemicals you scent from people not wearing patches doesn’t accidentally turn your vagina on before you want it to.”

“Ahaha, shit.” Steve laughed, breathless. “Fuck, we’ve gotta stop my vagina. Until maybe later. Might be nice a few years down the road if I get bored of my dick.”

Chiming in, Tommy added, “…I bet Munson would know how to get some. Then you wouldn’t have to go to the doctor.”

“You know I’m all for skipping the doctor.”

Plan set, the three of teens continued to lay together on the floor. The carpet wasn’t nice, and the overhead light made the whole room feel kinda warm. It was the most comfortable Steve had been since he’d babysat the Party three weeks ago.

Despite the determination the three shared going into the weekend, it took them until Sunday evening to finally track Eddie down. Nerves over Steve’s potential Flux from smelling too many other people had led to Carol suggesting they all start stuffing dryer sheets in their shoulders to try to cover up whatever scent might set him off. They were high-strung and on edge by the time the sun began to set on the weekend when they finally got word that Eddie was going to be at some house party two towns over as a favor to some guy who worked at a bar that might let Eddie’s band play. Unsure what the lay of the land would be away from Hawkins, Steve packed Tommy and Carol into the Bimmer and peeled out as fast as possible, hoping to get wherever they were going before it got too late.

The drive to Bluffville from Hawkins typically took 35 minutes. It took Steve about 23. Bluffville wasn’t a huge place, and cruising through the mid-sized town took them past several obvious house parties. It was outside the fourth that Carol sat up to lean over Steve’s shoulder and point out the windshield.

“Look, there’s Munson’s van.”

Cars lined both sides of the street for blocks in either direction of the sprawling American Craftsman-style house, and right there in the driveway was Eddie Munson’s old GMC Gaucho. Steve ended up parking down a cross street two blocks over. The three teens cut through yards to approach the noise pouring from the backyard with Carol and Tommy in the lead. The wall of sound resolved into laughter and yelling and some REO Speedwagon track. Groaning, Tommy came to a full stop and yanked his shirt collar up over his mouth and nose. Carol only paused to sneer, her face turned away from the backyard. It was a long enough delay that Steve pushed forward to take point, an old habit.

One of the reasons so many people’d always assumed that Steve was a late-blooming alpha was the way he’d led his friends through parties, pep rallies, concerts, the way they’d followed in his wake as crowds parted at the sheer force of his charisma. The more honest truth was that it was easy for him to be the most pleasant person in the place when he couldn’t smell shit fuck all. Whatever message the party’s pheromones were sending, Steve couldn’t parse it and that allowed him to wade through like he was above it all. Well. Allegedly, science was saying Steve could parse it, just not on a conscious level, a thought that refocused him on his goal of finding Munson.

His friends fell into step flanking him, crowded in close like they always did. Huh.

“Hey,” Steve called over his shoulder, voice low enough that they had to press even closer. “Do you guys walk like that right behind me because my non-scent blocks out everyone else?”

“I… I guess, yeah. When you’re in front and moving, I mean I can still tell what’s going on around us but mostly I’m just catching you. All ginger mint and salt.”

He couldn’t stop his smile, so Steve turned to face forward and kept walking. “The way you describe it, Care Bear, sometimes I really wish I could smell it too.”

“You’re a real palate cleanser, Harrington,” Tommy laughed. It came across a little bitchy because Tommy was a little bitchy, but it was still fond.

Instead of answering, Steve reveled in his newly realized beta powers to strike a path towards the darkest corner of the backyard. Bathed in shadow, he could barely see the flickering red light of someone pulling on a cigarette. His eyes adjusted as he got closer, and he saw the moment Eddie Munson saw him. He wouldn’t have said the first glance was positive or pleased, but then Eddie’s eyes slid over his shoulders to his companions. Eddie made sure he and Steve were making eye contact before he curled his upper lip in disgust – in comparison, that first look had been downright loving. Steve sped up, determined to get within earshot before Munson stood up and started yelling – something he’d done plenty before and would likely do again. The man was not fucking shy.

Crowding in close, Steve only managed to eek out a low “Munson…”, hands up and placating before the older boy cut him off.

“Fucking hell, Harrington, when I said it was odd that you didn’t have Hagan up your ass again, I only meant that it was surprising, not that you should go hunt the dickhead up. This the company you’re fucking keeping; had to go back to the well for another taste? To think I was actually concerned about you and your stupid headaches.”

“Hey, watch your fucking mouth, Freak, I don’t like your fucking tone. Don’t talk about Tommy or Steve like that.”

“Or what, Princess Caroline?” Eddie grinned, mean and irritated.

“Or you’re gonna spend the next week trying to pull that lunchbox outta your ass after I –”

“Oh, feisty! Fuckin bite me, you –”

“Raise your voice at her again, and I’m gonna be your problem, Freak.”

“Enough! Everyone shut up, be fucking cool. This isn’t Hawkins, if we get arrested here it’s not gonna be fucking Callahan and Hopper just tossing us in the drink for the night. We’re gonna have real problems, you more than us, Munson, and you know it.”

Steve watched Tommy, Eddie, and Carol all settle at his words and felt a pleased warmth settle under his skin. It wasn’t that different than how he felt when the omegas at the Y thanked him after leaving a successful jazzercise class or how he felt when the Party were all laughing in the Wheeler basement. He nodded to himself, pleased. Another beta win for Steve Harrington, peace-maker, peace-keeper.

“Maybe you’ve got a point, Harrington. Still, I’m less inclined to be nice when Cherry Valance and two Socs seek me out at a party they definitely weren’t invited to so far from our hometown.”

“First of all, relax, Bluffville isn’t that far from Hawkins, and secondly – wait.” Steve paused. “Is Carol Cherry or am I Cherry?”

This time Eddie’s smile was less irritated, though it still wasn’t nice. “Wouldn’t you like to know, Your Highness?”

“How do you even know that? I thought you failed English?” Tommy’s aside wasn’t helpful at all, but Eddie must’ve calmed down enough that instead of biting his head off he just looked at him askance.

“The Outsiders is a fucking treasure, Hagan. Just because Ms. O'Donall hates my essays doesn’t mean I can’t fucking read.”

“Point taken.” Tommy crossed his arms, and the motion made one of his dryer sheets poke out of his collar.

Seeing it made Steve hyperaware of his own, and he scratched at his own shoulder. Steve watched Eddie’s eyes catch on Tommy’s dryer sheet, and then drift over to him. He whipped his hand down, trying not to feel caught out, but Eddie was already turning to Carol with one eyebrow raised. She stared him down, chin high in the air, and pulled one of her sheets out with two fingers before readjusting it under her bra strap. Steve liked that she didn’t shy away from the odd things they did for his benefit. Flushed with pleasure, Steve turned to Munson and started spinning his request.

“Look, is it weird that we spent all weekend trying to find you and then followed you here on a Sunday night? Maybe, but Munson, it’s an emergency.” Taking a risk, Steve reached out and clapped his hands on Eddie’s shoulders, shaking him a little. He bowled right past his stunned yelp – all weekend?! All weekend?!” – and continued. “I’ve got an emergency quest for you, Munson. You gotta knight up, dude. You gotta go on a journey most treacherous and bring me three gold, or whatever.”

Eddie’s eyes got even wider than they’d gone when Steve grabbed him, and he choked out a short gasping laugh. Steve watched Eddie do his best to fight off the actual grin he had growing, watched him fail.

“Harrington, what the actual fuck. Why are you talking like this?! My liege?!”

“I like King Aruther novels. Also, I babysit nerds. The magic fantasy stuff is kinda interesting sometimes. I’ll fight a demogorgan, I don’t give a fuck.”

Carol and Tommy were watching Steve work with rapt attention, but he ignored them in his peripheral. Knowing they were still over there was enough, and Steve didn’t want to move his eyes from the expressions fliting rapid fire across Eddie’s face. He was kinda pretty, in a hyperactive sort of unhinged way. Eventually, the tension slid out of Eddie’s shoulders. He chuckled and took a step back, out of Steve’s hands.

“Alright, I’ll bite. What treasure do you seek, King Stephen? What can this humble knight provide?”

“Actually, it’d be King Stefanos. And I need stoppers, like the stuff for betas, so we can stop wearing dryer sheets in our clothes. Can you get me any?”

Eddie visibly shut down and rebooted. “You’re Greek? You’re a beta?”

Crossing his arms, Steve sighed. “Only like a quarter. It’s a family name on my mom’s side. And yes, people can be betas before they’re 25, it’s a –”

“Shut up, shut up, I know that, I took Beta Sex Ed. Which is why I know that dryer sheets blocking the Flux-inducing hormones is a wives’ tale, and also why I know the school gives out free stoppers to anyone officially presented as a beta, which is why I’m finding this conversation a little weird. If you file the doctor’s note stating you’re a beta with the nurse, Hawkins High should put the class on your schedule automatically.”

Steve barely had time to register what Eddie was telling them about himself before Carol started complaining.

“What? That’s not fair! They don’t give alphas free rut blockers.” Carol tossed her hair over her shoulder and strode forward to put herself directly in Eddie’s eyeline.

He stood his ground, peering down his nose at her. “Well, that’s because there’s a metric fuck ton of alphas at Hawkins High. Same reason they don’t give omegas free suppressants. It’s a lot cheaper to subsidize the medical intervention that maybe 3% of the student body will end up needing.”
Eddie turned his attention back to Steve, adding on, “and they don’t keep supplying after your first Senior year, so I do in fact have a line on where to get some besides the doctor. Though it’s good sexual health to go get an official script from a doctor. The generics work well enough in a pinch, but the hospital will do some tests and figure out what formula works best for your biology.” He emphasized his point by prodding Steve in the chest twice – your *poke* biology *poke*.

“If the doctor version is so good, then why aren’t you using it?” Tommy again, asking questions a more tactful person could probably figure out if they just thought it through a little. Steve and Carol both looked skyward, fond and exasperated.

“You kinda just say whatever, don’t you, Hagan? I understand Athos and Aramis over there have been dealing with you since you were all little so they’re used to it, but how is Hargrove putting up with this all the time?”

Shifting around uncomfortably, Tommy darted a look at Steve, his eyes landing where a bruise used to be, and then looked away. He couldn’t seem to bring himself to look at any of them for very long. “He, uh. He didn’t like me much actually, but he hated Steve more and he liked how pissed Steve always looked when he saw us together. I was just. You know. Trying to provoke you into talking to me again. I’m not gonna talk to him anymore.”

His target audience had drifted from Eddie to Steve as he spoke, though he still wouldn’t look at any of them for very long. Awkward as the moment was, Steve appreciated the clarification. He couldn’t bring himself to speak, so he shoved his hands into his jean pockets and nodded once at his old friend. Carol drifted back over to Tommy’s side and leaned her head on his shoulder. In a low voice, she started whispering how proud she was of him for taking accountability.

Steve shifted closer to Eddie, letting the two have a moment.

“So, all’s not totally well and perfect in the trio, yet, huh?”

Steve scoffed. “No, not yet. But it, uh, it will be. We just have to grow up a little, and work through some things.” He peered up at Eddie through his fringe. “And I wasn’t sure how I was gonna bring that up. Thanks, I guess.”

Playing with his long curls, Eddie looked around the backyard. Steve turned to people watch with him. None of the other partiers were paying them any attention, no need for Eddie’s wares for the moment. There was some dancing, some making out, a lot of people standing around chatting just like them. Someone had lit a grill, and there was a small crowd around it waiting for whatever was on the fire. When Eddie broke the silence, Steve was a little surprised to note that the vibe stayed companionable.

“I meant what I said about going to the doctor, if only to get the correct strength, or concentration, from the prescription. I can get the one-size-fits-all stoppers in the meantime and the more specific concentration that’ll work best for you if you don’t have the insurance to actually fill the script. If you just don’t want your parents to know I got a good clinic you can go to. They’ve got a pretty low out of pocket fee for the designation appointment and the stoppers – I am, of course, cheaper and more conveniently accessed, but. You have options, King Stefanos. You don’t have to just get by.”

It was just as encouraging and comforting as talking to Janice had been.

“Thanks, Munson. How about this – I pay you up front for two weeks’ worth of the one-size-fits-all. Give me the name of the clinic and I promise I’ll see to getting officially medically designated, and then go from there when I know more. How much for the one-size-fits-all?”

“Shit, man, you really are one of us betas,” Eddie pulled his hair across his mouth, covering his smile. It did nothing to hide the way his eyes shone with mirth. “So conciliatory, Your Highness, so logistical. Center for Secondary Gender Health in Parrstown does good fast work, and they take walk-ins. Obviously, as I am a drug dealer, your first hit of the good stuff is free in hopes that you like what I’ve got so much that you continue to shop with me. I’ll have it by Tuesday, Wednesday at the latest – did you want it as a nasal spray or a syrup?”

“Which is better?”

“Uh. The nasal spray is more effective – you hit each nostril and it goes right through your system fast, instead to having drink that syrup. Stuff is super thick and comes in all kinds of not-quite-fruit flavors – barely cheery, fake grape, the works. The nasal spray kinda stings though, so it’s really down to preference?”

“The spray, then. Slip a note in my locker if you want me to come by the picnic table at lunch? Or you can bring it to my house, or I’ll come by yours. Just let me know.”

“Will do, Harrington. Now take your sheepies, and bug out. That alpha has been doing laps of the yard waiting for you three to leave so he can ask me to sell him something illicit. Shoo.”

As soon as Eddie pointed the guy out, he seemed to materialize into existence. How Steve had missed him circling before, he didn’t know, and he was discomfited to know he had. One impatient teenager wasn’t a G-man or the Upside Down, but it was still unnerving. Hiding his nerves, Steve said goodbye to Eddie, gathered up his omega and his alpha, and led the way back towards the Bimmer. They were halfway to the car before Tommy spoke again.

“I think it went well.”

Steve laughed until they joined in. “Yeah, yeah, it went great. Do you guys wanna sleep over or should I take you home?”

“Sleep over!” Carol cheered, and skipped ahead to steal the passenger seat from Tommy. All the better – Steve wasn’t ready to stop hanging out.

Steve didn’t get any extra attention from Eddie at school on Monday or the following Tuesday, or the Wednesday after. No coy looks, no extra cafeteria rants, no locker notes. Steve could admit to himself that he was disappointed. One amicable business transaction did not friends make, he knew, but he’d kinda thought he’d surprised Eddie enough with his knowledge of literature and his willingness to play along to get a second look. Maybe he should’ve acknowledged the Three Musketeers reference?

After school on Wednesday, he finally got what he wanted. Carol and Tommy were in the living room watching M*A*S*H on the big TV. He’d never really stopped stocking their preferred snacks and Tommy’s favorite brand of beer in the pantry, so they were well appointed without any extra effort on his part. Standing in the kitchen, he thought to himself, They’ve slid back into my life so easily. He liked it. Using the kitchen phone, he called the Parrstown Center for Secondary Gender Health and made an appointment to come in after his shift at the Y on Friday. He’d just hung up when a knock on the sliding glass door startled him.

He went around the short corner to see who the fuck was in his backyard, and felt his heart skip a little. Eddie had his face pressed to the glass so his nose resembled a pig’s, and the glass was fogged with his heavy open-mouthed breathing. His hands were splayed on either side of his head; it looked awful. Steve decided he liked that too. Grinning, he motioned Eddie away from the door so he could unlock it and slide it open.

“Munson, I’m the one who has to clean that glass.”

“Have you cleaned it already this week?”

“No.”

“So, I’m in the clear! Maybe I should draw something on it, for whenever you get around to doing your chores. ONE! One-size-fits-all regular strength beta stopper nasal spray, for King Stefanos Harrington, courtesy of Hawkins, Indiana’s numero uno premier drug-dealing metal-loving dungeon master.”

Eddie swaggered into the kitchen, arms swinging and voice loud, one hand holding a brown paper bag that likely held Steve’s medicine. Steve could only lean against the kitchen island, amused, and watch Eddie perform to no one, which is why he saw Carol and Tommy pop up in the pass-through window to the dining room before Eddie did. The two made eye contact, nodded, and dropped low. Steve could imagine them crawling as close as possible to stage their ambush. To his credit, Eddie barely flinched when they lunged out of the hall at him.

“Come on, Munson, come play with us!” Carol crowed, hands gripping his leather jacket as she hauled him bodily towards the living room.

“Steve! Steve, your gremlins are kidnapping me! They’re trying to steal me away to whatever fae court popular kids spawn out of! Help!”

Tommy pushed Eddie from behind, working with her to manhandle the older boy in front of the TV. “Stop panicking! We’ve just got a couple questions about Steve, and you’re the only beta we know to ask. Come nice and easy, and we’ll use Steve’s money to order pizza – doesn’t that sound nice?”

“I am not ordering pizza. We’ve got three perfectly good pizzas in the deep freezer. I’ll go grab one and turn on the oven, but only if you guys promise not to break Eddie.”

“Deal!”

“Deal!”

All three of them looked down at Eddie, who was half on the floor with one leg in the air, hair wild and cheeks red with exertion. For all his harried appearance, he was smiling wide, and Steve suddenly had the sense that if he’d really wanted to fight free there might not have been anything he, Tommy, or Carol could’ve done to stop him.

“Yeah, what the fuck, deal.”

As soon as Eddie agreed, Carol and Tommy resumed attempting to haul him into the room and Eddie resumed flailing. Steve left the three of them to it, and went around to the garage so he could get the pizza out of the deep freezer.

Despite Omega Jazzercise being a daily class, it took Steve another week before he managed to get a moment alone with Mrs. Jennings. In fact, he was pretty sure she’d noticed he wanted to speak to her and had engineered another private moment for them, and in nearly the exact same way too. The Tuesday Jazzercise class ended, Steve bid omegas good-bye, Mrs. Jennings rented a lock and headed up to the indoor track, Steve stopped two patchless alphas who really were old enough to know better from sneaking in.

He'd just finished his rounds to make sure no towels had been left hanging on the floor equipment and was headed back to the front through the hallway that housed the steam room and sauna when Mrs. Jennings caught up to him.

“Steve?”

He turned around, grateful to see her again. “Mrs. Jennings! Hey.”

“Hello, dear,” she smiled. “I’m on my way out – done for the day – but I’d noticed you’re looking better lately. I’m glad to see it, darling.”

“Yes – and, I wanted to thank you for that. You know, the helpline? You were right – about me, I mean – and, well it’s a lot easier to handle when you know what you’re handling. I really appreciate you looking out for me. Thank you.” Steve smiled easily, hoping she could see in his face how much better things were.

“Of course, Steve. It’s unfortunate; all this information is well-researched and openly available but because so few people have the opportunity to learn it, people fall through the cracks. We all know what an omega or alpha in distress looks like, and the best steps to identify and address a ferality episode onset, a few of us can see an unbalanced beta and recognize their condition. I’m glad I was able to point you in the right direction.”

Their conversation didn’t last much longer beyond that, as several people entered the hall headed for the steam room. Steve walked with Mrs. Jennings back towards the front, and said his good-byes at the front desk. He settled in with his History textbook, and focused on reviewing for an upcoming test, content.

Time slipped away from him until he was brought forcibly back into the present by the sound of Eddie Munson crashing bodily into the front desk. Steve jumped in surprise, confronted suddenly with the crown of Eddie’s head as the older beta slumped over the desk, arms akimbo and fucking up the stacks of flyers for badminton lessons. Steve huffed in irritation, and started smacking at his friend.

“What the fuck, Munson?! School hasn’t even let out yet, why the fuck are you here in Parrstown? Aren’t you meant to be studying or something?”

“You gotta save me, Stevie.” Eddie stood up straight, but only to make his way around the counter and - ignoring Steve’s protests - collapse to his knees with his upper body pitched across Steve’s lap. “You gotta save me from your awful friends who love you a lot, or whatever. I really thought it would be Principal Higgins or Mrs. O'Donnell who did me in, but no! Turns out, Caroline Perkins and Thomas Hagan can’t get enough of me.”

Steve finally managed to heave Eddie out of his lap, watching with poorly concealed amusement when he flopped over dramatically.

“You’re lucky I mopped recently, lying on the floor like that. And I don’t know what you’re bitching at me for, you’re the one who agreed to being friends with us.”

Eddie stood up, fast and unfolding, like a sheet flapping in the wind on a clothes line. He pointed at Steve sternly, finger close enough that it made Steve go cross-eyed for a second.

“First of all, it was not made clear to me that agreeing to horse around in your home one time was the same as a lifelong binding pact, and to be perfectly honest, I still don’t think that’s actually what it was. Secondly! I don’t believe they believe that we’re meant to be friends either, because every time they hunt me down it’s to talk about you!

“Me?!” Steve squawked in indignation.

“Yes, you! All the time its if we argue too much, will that mess up Steve’s balance, Eddie? and Eddie, how can you tell when betas feel safe if we can’t smell Steve’s emotions in his scent? and how can we tell when Steve’s distressed if he never likes to complain about serious stuff, Eddie? and if all betas are people pleasers why are you such a jackass, Eddie?”

Steve couldn’t hide his smile or stifle his laughter. That, of course, only riled Eddie up into a proper performance.

“They keep making me study!! They find me at my picnic table and bring textbooks, and when they aren’t asking questions about you, they’re asking questions about class material since I’ve seen it all before, haven’t you Eddie? You flunked, didn’t you, Eddie? They’re cutting into band time! They’re cutting in to D&D prep time! Hagan keeps asking for a “family and friends discount” even though I told him that’s not a thing!”

There were tears streaming down Steve’s face, and his side hurt from cackling too hard. He was beginning to get worried he’d never draw in a proper breath again, but then he saw Eddie move like he was going to stand on the desk and the shot of panicked adrenaline calmed him long enough to lunge and stop him.

“Enough! Look, look, man, you’re just going to have to accept that they’ve adopted you as a friend and you’re going to graduate if it kills them. So yeah, they’re following you around and making you study; they do the exact same shit to me, and if I really knew a way to make them tone it down I’d’ve done it by now.”

Steve was still smiling, even as Eddie sighed. Eddie’s put-upon demeanor seemed mostly affected and contrived once Steve’d confirmed that Carol and Tommy really did like him, and it struck Steve - now that he was obviously playing - that Eddie really was worried before. It also struck him that at this point, he knew Eddie well enough to tell the difference. On a whim, he invited Eddie to his next pool party.

“Are you kidding me? A pool party, at Casa de Harrington? And not because you want me to sell?”

“No! No selling, it’d only be the four of us anyway, though if you’d like to contribute to the night’s vibes, Carol’s already bringing drinks and Tommy’s bringing pizza so you could add a little something something. Come hang out with us on Saturday. It’s better than waiting for them to kidnap and forcibly bring you, isn’t it? Just show up.”

“Saturday? Uh-uh,” Eddie shook his head, smile ominous. “If they wanna be friends with me – if all three of you are trying to befriend me – then you all have to be friends with my weirdos!”

“Uh! Deal. Where we going, Munson?”

“Alright, Harrington. Friday night Corroded Coffin is playing a gig. If you think Anne Shirley and Gilbert Blythe would be willing to come, then by all means, I would love to introduce the three of you to some of the best music in existence. You ready to put some action behind all that big talk, rich boy?”

Eddie smirked at him like he’d backed Steve into a corner, like he didn’t fully understand how competitive Steve could get when challenged. That’s alright, Steve thought to himself. He’ll learn. “I dunno, Munson. How about I call them tonight to discuss it, and we’ll get back to you?”

“You do that, King Stefanos.”

He was peacocking. That was really the only word for it as Eddie strutted for the door, tossing his hair and waving over his shoulder with one hand. Confidence personified. Like Steve hadn’t won him over in the first place by matching his weirdo vibe. Sitting through a heavy metal band gig – Steve could admit that would be a little more difficult than a handful of vague high fantasy references. He liked Janis Joplin and Miles Davis, for fuck’s sake. He listened to Journey.

But it would be worth it to make Eddie Munson eat his fucking words and admit they were all friends. It would also be good to embrace Eddie on his own turf and gain an understanding of his interests and hobbies. Show him that they accepted him for who he was and they weren’t ashamed to be seen around him. That too. Mostly, though, Steve was looking forward to watching Eddie realize that he was going to have to give up whatever pre-conceived notions he’d had about the mean, rich, normie, “cool” kids. Mostly, Steve was looking forward to winning.

Steve didn’t actually call Carol and Tommy that night, because Tuesday nights were date nights. They always ended up sleeping together, and more than once they’d answered the private line in Tommy’s room or picked up the phone in Carol’s room while they were fucking. It hadn’t happened since they reconnected, and Steve was doing his part to put it off for as long as possible. He woke up Wednesday to a message from Carol on the answering machine letting him know that they didn’t need a ride to school.

There’d never been any overlap in their class schedules (which had exacerbated how lonely Steve had been after Nancy), so he didn’t see them in class. The trio missed each other again at lunch, with Steve having to visit the guidance office to talk about his co-op’s progress, Carol making up a Civics quiz, and Tommy was in a last-minute meeting with Coach Morton and the rest of the basketball team. It wasn’t until well after Steve’s shift at the Y that the three of them met up and Steve could pass along Eddie’s challenge. They were sitting in Carol’s driveway, enjoying the cool of the overcast afternoon, while Mrs. Perkins watched out the kitchen window. She’d been so pleased to see them all together again. Steve kept glancing at her through the window screen as he spoke.

“I like a band, but I doubt Munson plays anything like INXS or Journey,” Tommy groused. “It kinda sucks that I can’t dig at him about how awful it’ll probably be, because that would mean admitting he was right about us not being able to hang.”

Carol nodded sagely. “And Eddie being right is a worse fate than missing out on a chance to tease him. He’ll inevitably do something else to earn a good old fashion mocking, though, don’t worry, Tommy.”

“Right,” Tommy scooted in closer to Carol’s side. Then he stood up, walked over to where Steve was sprawled on the concrete, and physically lifted him to be closer to where Carol was sitting before resuming his seat. “So, when and where is this gig, Stefanos?”

Steve said nothing. His silence lingered… and then Carol gently nudged him with her foot.

“You big dumb goof. He got all caught up being the most dramatic man to ever live and forgot to say, and you were busy trying to steal the drama king championship title from him and forgot to ask.”

“Be nicer to me! Or I won’t drive us all back over to the school to crash his Hellfire dungeon meeting thingy and find out where the gig is.”

Steve took a deep breath, gearing up for a legendary whine, but before he could say another word Tommy and Carol both stood, dusted off their pants, and started walking towards his Bimmer. Tommy called a good-bye to Mrs. Perkins, and Carol started yanking at the door handle of the car as if it might have unlocked without Steve putting the key in. So much for dramatic whining. That was alright though. Steve was sure he’d get the chance to ham it up to his heart's content when they got to Eddie’s game.

The three seniors made their way down the darkened halls, listening to the sounds of janitors and late-staying teachers in classrooms. Steve led the way into the fine arts wing, past the band room and the choir room. They came to a fork in the hallway; the home ec classrooms were to the left. Steve steered his group right, towards the drama rooms and performing arts center. Assuming Hellfire had started right when school ended, they’d only been in their meeting for an hour and a half. Steve still wasn’t sure what he was about to have Carol and Tommy walk into.

All his dragon dungeon knowledge came from Dustin, Mike, Lucas, and Will; some games an hour and a half had them deep in story, some games an hour and half in they were still throwing pretzels at each other and arguing about if they’d rested enough to re-gain health or not. The sounds of teenage boys yelling got louder as they got closer and closer to the theater room Hellfire operated out of.

“Eddie, listen to me. Are you listening? My wizard is not an orphan – he doesn’t remember his past but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t have parents. You may not introduce my long-lost dead parents as the last two zombies in a zombie hoard again. They! Are! Not! Dead!”

“I understand, Sir Jeffery the Stalwart.” Eddie mused, voice grave and serious. “So, then your parents are alive, and unknown to you, but also had the funds to send you to wizard school at some point in your unknown past. I see.”

“No! No, fuck you, no! Don’t do this to me –”

Steve stuck his head in the room. Eddie sat on an honest-to-god throne surrounded by candles with his feet kicked up on the round table in front of him. His feet just barely avoided knocking over the little wall of binder and book in front of him, and his devil may care smirk only grew into a more and more menacing smile as Jeff Mueller from 4-H yelled at him from across the table.

Around the table sat a younger student Steve didn’t recognize (he had great hair though), a junior Steve did recognize as Theodore Campbell from that time they’d both been copying papers for teachers in the admin office, and Anthony Rogers from English 8. Huh. Steve hadn’t known the other senior was into this kind of stuff, but then it wasn’t like he ever talked to the omega outside of British Literature class. The other three snickered as Jeff begged Eddie not to do… whatever he was worried he’d do, but they all froze immediately if Eddie’s eye drifted in their direction. It seemed like they were still planning the game, not playing it.

Well. No time like the present. Steve shoved the door all the way open and swaggered in. Eddie bolted upright in his throne like a fucking meerkat, eyes getting bigger and bigger as Steve headed straight for him. Carol picked up the papers in front of Anthony, and Tommy was pulling up a seat between Jeff and the unknown underclassman. Theodore was on his feet, clearly defensive, and Steve detoured on his way to Eddie to stand next to him.

“Hey, Theodore! I like your leather jacket – don’t worry, we’ll be out of your hair soon. Just, Edmund over there invited us to come hang at Corroded Coffin’s next gig but very conveniently forgot to say when and where they were going to be playing- hey wait, aren’t you in the band too? Where’s the Friday show, what time?”

Eddie let out a strangled yelp, barely heard over the sounds of Jeff, Theodore, and The Kid’s incredulous shrieking. Somewhere in the noise, Carol was asking Anthony questions about what a cleric was. Tommy had taken to reading the abandoned open notebook in front of the kid.

“My name is not Edmund! Quiet or I will make the whole party fight a dragon next session.”

Eddie looked powerful and intimidating standing in front of his throne, candle light giving his hair a halo. Steve could kind of see some curls in his hair, actually, and he decided that after they’d won everyone over, he was going to convince Munson to let Steve do his hair. He was sure he could get some real definition out of it with the right products. All of the Hellfire members had gone dead silent at his threat, which meant they all heard it clearly when Carol said –

“Tony, if you’re the healer, wouldn’t you want to put some more of these point thingies into constitution? If you die or get knocked out or whatever won’t the rest of them be fucked? Why is the charisma so high instead of constitution? Are you the only friendly one in the group?”

“Nah, Care Bear, this kid here’s backstory notebook says he’s doing a friendly but stupid paladin – I’m not really sure what paladins can do, but everyone in his backstory likes him and lets him off the hook when he fucks something up. Which he does all the time because he’s so, so, dumb – hey kid, what’s your name? Your self-esteem okay?”

The kid with the great hair snatched the notebook out of Tommy’s hands, cheeks flushed red. “Give that back! M’Gareth, and I’m fine.”

“If you say so, man.” Tommy huffed and turned back to the table, already reaching for Jeff’s notebook.

“Miss Perkins, Mr. Hagan, no peanut gallery commentary. Either fill out a sheet and join in or kindly shut up.” Eddie sing-songed at them. He stared with wide, unblinking eyes, waiting for each of them to let go of the papers they were pawing at and sit back. Satisfied that they were going to behave, Eddie turned his attention back to Steve.

“Harrington, the show is at The Hideaway at 9pm. And really, you could’ve called about that.”

Steve shrugged. “Didn’t seem as fun. Hey, can we stay and watch you guys play?”

Eddie turned to face his friend. “Jeff, do you think Steve, Carol, and Tommy-boy here could manage to sit quietly through a game?”

The black boy was shaking his head even before Eddie finished his question. “No way. The moment we enter a tavern they’re all gonna have opinions about who we talk to first and why.”

Wheeling around with hands splayed, Eddie shrugged. “I’ve got to say, I agree with Jeff. Spectators have to be quiet, something I don’t think the three of you are capable of. Your options are join the campaign or leave Hellfire.”

“You can have it your way, Eddie.” Carol fluffed out her hair and then shoved her hands into her jacket pockets. “We’ll leave now; though I expect you all to put on a good show if I ever come back to watch and really don’t say anything.”

With that, she pivoted on one foot and meandered her way out of the room. Tommy followed right behind her, with Steve pulling up the rear. He took one last moment to glance around the room, eyes landing on Eddie last. The whole group looked flabbergasted and a little scandalized. Eddie was grinning, and when Steve caught his eye, the older boy gave him a wink. Fucking hell. He turned and marched back down the hall, back past the band rooms and then the choir rooms to catch up with his friends before they started yanking at his car doors again.

The evening sun was bright in the sky, no clouds to be seen. The day’s newspaper had said that there was low chance of rain or snow for Thursday, and an even lower chance of either on Friday. Steve rode with the windows down, truly testing the limits of his hairspray. Canned Heat’s Dimples played from his tape deck, bluesy and loud. The street signs changed from Parrstown brown to Hawkins green and as he crossed the town limits, he noticed a drive-thru car wash he’d never tried. Impulsive, he changed lanes and pulled in. He paid the attendant, put the car in neutral, and rode along in the car as the automated belt pulled the Bimmer through. Steve dug under the passenger seat for the little canister of chamois leather he kept for drying the car after the big fans did what they could.

He was near done with the freshly washed Bimmer and drying the trunk (careful to avoid streaking) when it occurred to him that he was prepping for the Corroded Coffin show like he was going on a date. But it wasn’t date – was it? No, because Eddie had invited him and Carol and Tommy. Though, Steve had done something similar, when he was first hoping to help Nancy get more comfortable with Tommy and Carol; he’d invited her to bring Barb along with her. Steve stood stock still, drying cloth in hand, mind racing, and then he relaxed. It wasn’t a double date, it was an attempt to merge friend groups, and besides, he and Nancy had actually gone out and made out several times before that messy house party. And anyway – he wasn’t treating Friday night’s show like a date because he wasn’t fussing over what to wear.

Steve finished drying the car and, satisfied with its gleaming paint job, slid back into the driver’s seat where he immediately began to fuss and worry over what to wear. He’d never been to a local show at any of Hawkins’ dive bars and certainly not to a metal show. He wanted to support Eddie and show that they liked him, not embarrass him by standing out. He tapped at the steering wheel, thinking of where he might find Eddie on a Thursday afternoon when an even better idea struck him.

Twenty minutes later, Steve walked out of Hawkins Public Library, Wayne Munson’s listed phone number in hand courtesy of the local White Pages.

Steve wasn’t particularly slow at finishing his meals, especially since hanging around the dinner table meant hearing his dad offer commentary on “the state of the country”. These days, family dinners felt particularly awkward; he still hadn’t told his parents he was sure he was a beta. Until he’d found out, he hadn’t realized how often his mom made little references to his eventual presentation or his future alphadom. His dad was just as bad, constantly offering advice on how to handle ruts. There wasn’t even the silver-lining of being able to use his dad’s advice to help Carol, because everything his dad said seemed just as centered on being a grown man as it was on being an alpha.

That Thursday night, though, he lingered, chatting with his mom about her meatloaf recipe and with his dad about the upcoming Reds season. He was killing time, and when he felt it was late enough that Eddie was probably home Steve excused himself upstairs. He didn’t have his own line like Tommy or a phone in his room like Carol, but there was a phone in the computer room/craft room that his parents didn’t mind him using. He pulled the cardstock he’d jotted the number down on from his pocket and dialed.

“If you’re calling about Eddie, I already know and he’s very grounded; no need to worry or talk to him at all.”

Steve had never met Wayne Munson before, let alone heard him speak, but he still knew the sound of Eddie putting on a fake voice.

“Ah, damn. And I’d wanted to talk to him about The Hobbit. Never mind–”

Eddie cut him off, voice low and quiet, like he was pressing the receiver close to his mouth. “Stevie, are you fucking with me or do you know Tolkein?”

“I wouldn’t say I know Tolkien, but I did like The Hobbit. I didn’t read Frodo’s books but, unfortunately, I didn’t call to talk about Middle Earth anyway.”

“You think just because you’re pretty I’ll let you jerk me around, huh?”

Steve’s face went flush with warmth. The Corroded Coffin show wasn’t a date, but if Eddie wasn’t just teasing then maybe they could have one down the line.

“I called to ask what I should wear to the show tomorrow. What do metal crowds look like? I don’t have any leather; should I just wear a band t-shirt?”

“No, no. People who go to metal shows do tend to have a, uh… certain look, but one – the people at The Hideaway aren’t going to be metalheads, they’re going to be people from Hawkins, Indiana who came out for a drink and a metal band will happen to be in their favorite watering hole. They’re going to be dressed like working class people from Hawkins, Indiana. And two – I want you to wear your own style. I like you just fine the way you are, King Steve, don’t go changing on Corroded Coffin’s account, no matter how big and famous we get.”

“Oh, thank God,” Steve laughed lightly. His eyes stung a little, grateful over Eddie’s easy acceptance. “You look good doing all that, but I didn’t really want to try pulling it off.”

There was a pause over the line, and when Eddie spoke again, he sounded both curious and amused. “And what if I’d told you yes, huh? Do you own any band shirts or would you have raided a thrift store?”

“I would have gone right to the consignment shop in Parrstown after work tomorrow and done my very best to find something, because I like you just fine too, and I don’t want you to worry that I’m making fun of the music you like. I would’ve looked ridiculous, but I would’ve tried.”

“Sap.”

Eddie’s response made Steve burst into laughter, and Eddie laughed back, though Steve was certain that when he said it, he’d sounded fond and pleased.

“Is your name Edward?”

“Ok, abrupt shift. What?”

“I was just thinking – I was joking, when I called you Edmund during Hellfire, but you corrected me like I might not’ve been. Like you have to correct people who guess wrong a lot.”

“My name is not Edward, or Edmund, or Edgar, or Edison, or Edwin.”

“Well, then, who are you? I told my actual name. Here, look.” Steve shifted his stance, standing tall and planting his feet on the soft carpet. “It’s my pleasure to meet you. My name is Stefanos Ernest Harrington, though most people call me Steve.”

“Nice to meet you, Steve. My name is Eddrick Ira Munson – that’s two first names, no middle name, Eddrick Ira. Most people call me Munson, though a handful call me Eddie, or Ed.”

Steve smiled softly and leaned against the wall. He curled his fingers through the phone cord with the hand not holding the phone, tugging at it gently. “Eddrick Ira. I like it. Can I call you that sometimes?”

“If you like.”

“Did you get an accent just now? When you were talking it sounded different for a moment. Where did you live before you moved to Hawkins?”

Eddie snorted at him. “You keep hanging around and maybe I’ll tell you all about it one day. Right now? We need to talk about Smaug.”

Steve let him redirect the conversation, scrounging up details and facts as fast as he could to keep up with the sudden Tolkien lecture. They chatted a little while longer, snarking back and forth, before hanging up. On his way to his room, Steve passed his mom in the hall.

“Did you have a good chat, Steve?”

“Yeah, I did. Goodnight, Mom.”

“Goodnight. Sleep well.”

Friday night saw three seniors packed into Steve’s Bimmer, paint job gleaming. He pulled into the parking lot carefully, right at 9pm. He parked in the center back of the lot, far enough from the street that Hopper probably wouldn’t recognize the car and come hassle him for being underage in a bar. They unfolded from the car and made their way inside, taking advantage of a scuffle near the door to skirt past the hulking, patchless, bouncer. Steve wasn’t actually sure the older alpha would’ve stopped them, but he infinitely preferred not having to deal with him at all.

Inside, it was half empty, smokey, and dim. Corroded Coffin themselves were on the small stage tucked into the back corner of the room; half the stage lights were broken, and Jeff and Eddie looked totally preoccupied with helping Gareth position his drums so that he’d be seated in the light without hanging off the stage’s edge. Theodore watched them with a wary eye, but never stopped fiddling with his bass and the pedals at his feet. Eddie had been right the night before on the phone; most of the people in the bar were either at tables or at the bar itself, focused on their drinks and their company and paying no mind to the underaged high schoolers setting up instruments on the corner stage. The only people standing in the area in front of the stage were Anthony Rogers, a handful of college-age young adults in biker gear, and sophomore cheerleader Chrissy Cunningham.

Steve did a double-take at the sight of her, and then turned to his friends. “Okay, which of you two is going to check on the 15-year-old? Her fellow omega or a fellow teenage girl? Want me to referee rock, paper, scissors about it?”

“All three of us -” Carol started off, a determined set to her jaw. “A fellow girl, a fellow omega, and the captain of the basketball team she cheers for. Move it, boys.”

Steve and Tommy fell into step behind her quickly. Out of the corner of his eye, Steve saw Theo’s head swing away from the rest of the band to track them across the floor. He noticed they were headed towards Chrissy and said something – nothing Steve could make out with the distance between them – and then all of Corroded Coffin was watching them. Curious. Steve made eye contact with Eddie, hoping for… anything really. He got a small smile that faded quickly, Eddie’s expression more neutral than Steve had ever seen it. And then they were by Chrissy.

“Oh! Oh, hi guys – um – I’m Chrissy! You might know me, or maybe not since I’m younger, but it’s nice to see you. Steve, I just want to say, all the cheerleaders really miss having you around at games. The boys were always so much nicer when you were around.”

Alarmed, Tommy and Steve spoke over each other.
“What are they getting up to without me?”, and –
“Are they bothering the cheerleaders still? Is it McMichael?”

“No! It’s not that they’re awful now!” Her eyes widened, and her hands raised in sheepish conciliation. “Tommy’s nice, and so are some of the other guys. Its just - when Jason and Billy start competing things get a bit tense.”

Steve and Tommy visibly relaxed. Tommy began to speak, and despite not moving from behind Carol, he seemed to become the center of the conversation.

“I don’t have quite the command of the team that Steve or Billy did – do – but if you or any of the other cheerleaders ever need help and you don’t want to tell the coaches I’m totally willing to do it for you guys.”

“You’d help?” A bright smile grew on Chrissy’s face, and made her nose scrunch. She reminded Steve of some of his younger cousins.

“I would help. And on that note - how’s it going? Hanging out… here? Alone? You alright?”

“Oh! Oh, I’m not alone. Officially, I’m here with my cousin, Gareth,” she gestured haphazardly over her shoulder without looking back, “because his parents only let him stay out late if I’m with him because no one thinks I would ever go anywhere bad.”

She giggled, and Carol laughed along even louder. Steve and Tommy side-eyed each other, communicating silently. Neither the Harringtons or the Hagans had asked either of them where they were going since they were maybe 9, never mind questioning whether they went places that were bad.

“Yeah, for a while my parents only let me out if they knew Steve would be there.” Carol grinned, and ignored Steve’s exclamation of surprise. “If you’re officially here with Gareth, then who are you with unofficially?”

“Unofficially, I’m Anthony’s problem. I don’t really need a crowd buddy- there’s hardly anyone here to make trouble- but it makes the guys feel better about it, so.”

Anthony raised a hand at the group, clearly listening in though he made no move to walk closer.

“Okay! That rocks. So are your cousin and the rest of the band any good?”

Chrissy laughed at Steve’s question and punched him in the shoulder playfully. “Maybe now that they know you guys aren’t gonna be assholes to me, they can finally play and you can decide for yourself,” she finished with a sly look over her shoulder.

On stage, Gareth rolled his eyes and immediately started counting the band in, drum sticks clacking. Jeff stuck his tongue out at them in a light tease and Theo flipped them all the bird. Carol, Tommy, and Chrissy got rowdy right back at them while Anthony continued to stand around bored. All of it seemed muffled and faded to Steve, who could only look at Eddie looking at him with a sharp smile. He watched him step forward to grab hold of the microphone, and didn’t look away for the rest of the set.

Corroded Coffin needed more practice, but they had an undeniable sound, the beginnings of something amazing. The music was louder than Steve was used to, but it still felt familiar. The drums, the vocals, the switch ups in rhythm and timing – in a way, it reminded Steve of some of his favorite jazz records. The guys were all clearly having a great time, comfortable on stage and with each other. Steve wanted to hear more. He wanted to dance and laugh with Carol and Tommy, and spin in circles with Chrissy. He wanted to ask Jeff and Theo questions about how they came up with those long instrumental solos, he wanted to show Gareth the drum set his parents had given him when he was 7 and see if he could keep up with Gareth’s fast-paced percussion. He wanted to share records with Eddie. He wanted Eddie’s attention.

The set only lasted a little over an hour. When they finished there was a smattering of applause from around the bar, and thunderous cheering from the small group of high schoolers crowded in front of the stage.

“Thank you, thank you! We’ve been Corroded Coffin! Keep an eye out around town for flyers about our next gig, whenever and wherever that is. Goodnight!” Eddie drawled into the mic, and then took a step back, waving at the five teenagers that made up his adoring audience. They all cheered harder, and then Eddie crouched at the edge of the stage to speak to them directly.

“Okay, but really. Jacobs who owns this place is kinda turning a blind eye to the fact that we’re all too young to be here and we gotta clear out to stay in his good graces. We’ve gotta go out the back to load all our instruments into the van, and y’all all need to make for the front door. It’s time for good little boys and girls to go home.”

Steve felt his cheeks heat, and he did an about face to start marching towards the front. He barely saw Carol and Tommy saluting Eddie as he speedwalked away from the stage. Anthony and Chrissy fell in step with him on either side.

“That was interesting.”

“Not a word, Rogers.”

“Can I say a word?”

“Chrissy, I’d prefer you didn’t.”

Anthony and Chrissy laughed at him but dropped it, and just in time. Carol and Tommy caught up just as they crossed the threshold to the cool night air, none the wiser to Steve’s recent behavior. He wasn’t deluding himself; his friends knew him well enough to have already noticed his crush, but openly blushing at Eddie insinuating he was a “good boy” wasn’t ammo they needed.

“Come with us!”

Chrissy waved for Tommy, Steve, and Carol to follow her and Anthony around the back of the building. It was obvious they were on their way to see the band, and Carol whooped as she skipped behind them. Tommy looped an arm through Steve’s and tugged him a bit to follow.

“Carol seems excited.” Steve commented, watching her laugh at something Chrissy said.

“Yeah. Don’t tell Munson - you know how he likes lording how mainstream we are over us - but she actually got really into metal around the same time I started listening to INXS. We drove up to a record store in Indianapolis so I could get the recent album, and she let the cashier talk her into listening to a band called W.A.S.P. I don’t think they make the same kind of metal Corroded Coffin do, actually, but whatever.”

Steve came to a full stop in the parking lot, and stared Tommy down. Tommy tried to keep walking forward, but Steve could really plant his feet when he was focused and eventually Tommy gave up and turned to look at him.

“That’s why she was so excited to find out when and where the show was, after you told us. When we were at her house in the front yard? She likes metal.”

Steve had to swallow around a painful lump to say, “I didn’t know.”

Tommy leaned forward until he was resting his forehead on Steve’s shoulder, and then craned his head up to brush his cheek against Steve’s neck gland.

“I know you didn’t know. That’s why I told you. I’ll do my best to help fill you in on the things you missed about us, okay? But you’ve gotta do the same. Tell us about Nancy. Tell us about when it was good, and when it went bad, and why. Tell me about what it was like for you getting booted from basketball and swim.” Tommy leaned back and gave Steve a rakish grin. “Tell me if you’re starting to fall for anybody else… anyone at all.”

“Alright, alright, point taken.” Steve started walking again, and with their arms still looped together Tommy came right along with him. “We can have a sleepover tonight at my place, all three of us, and we’ll do all the talking your heart desires but only if you let me get through the next 20 minutes with any kind of dignity at all.”

“Ah, whatever. Dignity or not, you’d let us come over anyway.”

Tommy was right, but he didn’t need Steve to confirm it so Steve didn’t. When they finally caught up to the rest of the group, the instruments were all packed away, and Eddie was gesturing between Carol, Jeff, and Theodore. The two boys got closer just in time to hear the tail-end of Eddie’s sentence.

“…really sure if there’s anything particular to know about caring for specifically betas, but Jeff and Freak are both alphas and can tell you all their secret tricks for handling me.”

Tommy let go of Steve immediately and stomped over to the group. “Any tips for omegas? It actually pisses me off that I can’t scent what he’s feeling and what he needs – I thought he’d present soon and then I’d be able to, but, well.”

“Gareth and I can help!” Chrissy clasped her hands together, leaning into Tommy’s space. “There’s other ways to feel like you’re helping, even if he can’t use scent to communicate to you like other omegas and alphas do.”

Gareth nodded, “And their whole “keeping the peace” thing actually works really well in tandem with any caretaking instincts you might have, whether you’re the kind of omega that likes to act on those impulses or not.”

“What, everyone gets lessons except me? Am I not the beta in question? What am I, chopped liver?”

Steve fanned out his hands as he looked from person to person, faking indignance. He smiled as they all laughed at his antics. Then Eddie was slinking towards him, overdramatic and theatrical, smirking and leering in equal measure.

“Why, Stevie, if you wanted to get me alone you coulda just said so.” He leaned in close to Steve’s face, nose to nose, “I’ve got a couple tricks I can teach you.”

Up that close, he looked like a cyclops, and he smelled like cigarettes and sweat. Steve wondered if the tobacco and smoke smell were actually part of his scent or if it was just Camels he kept in his pocket. Somewhat teasing and mostly serious, Steve smiled.

“Thanks, Eddie. I’m real good at learning, long as you go slow.”

“Ohhhhhhhhhhh my god, enough! Down, horndogs. I’ve never been so grateful I can’t smell betas’ emotions; neither of you are wearing patches. Have some fucking decorum.” Jeff groused at them, face appalled.

Everyone laughed, and Eddie backed away from Steve with his hands raised in surrender. He didn’t seem very apologetic though, and he winked at Steve before turning away to walk to the driver’s side of the van.

“Alright, I’m taking Gareth and Chrissy back to Gareth’s house before curfew turns them both into pumpkins. Anyone else riding?”

“Nah,” Theo sighed. “I’m gonna ride with Jeff and gossip about you all.”

“Are we still doing band practice at my place tomorrow? And are you still coming over tonight to put the instruments in my garage after you drop them off?” Jeff asked, even as he walked backwards towards a champagne colored four-door sedan.

“Yup to both!” Eddie hung out the window to talk, totally ignoring where Gareth and Chrissy were slapboxing over the passenger seat behind them.

“Okay, I’ll wait up for you after I drop Freak home. Anthony, how’d you get here? Do you need a ride?”

“Biked. Do you have space for it in your trunk? If you do, I wouldn’t mind a ride home.”

“Yeah, it’ll probably fit, and I’ve got bungee cords for the trunk if it don’t. Go unchain it from wherever.”

Steve turned to Carol. “Tommy and I want you to do a sleepover with us.”

She considered him, one eyebrow arched. “Your place or mine?” She made no mention of Tommy’s place; they never slept over there, not since he’d presented omega. It made his dad too nervous.

“Mine; my parents are out of town again.”

“Sick, I’m in. I don’t have pj’s, so I’m taking one of your t-shirts.”

“You both always take my t-shirts.”

Tommy and Carol shrugged at him unrepentantly.

Plans all decided, everyone made their goodbyes and dispersed, and not a moment too soon. Steve was the last to pull out of the lot, and he saw Hopper’s car cruise past the bar in his rearview mirror. He accelerated down the road gently, careful not to draw the Sheriff’s attention, and wondered when and how he was going to tell Tommy and Carol about the Upside Down in a way that was convincing.

Whatever. That was a problem for Future Steve. Present Steve turned the radio up, and ignored all the pointed comments his best friends were making about Eddie Munson. He revved the engine, just because he could, and took off into the night.