Chapter Text
Eddie doesn’t expect to see anybody when he heads to the park Thursday night. It’s a little after sunset so it’s still light out but it’s fading quickly, just how he likes it when he goes to sit on the swings and muster up the courage to actually smoke the joint that’s been in his pocket for a week and a half. He’s still not sure why he can’t do it - Eddie loves being high. And it seems like a good way to help with the - anxieties he’s been feeling about all this, even though the bad guy is dead and things have quieted down. It’s just that, every time he brings the joint to his lips his fingers start shaking and he can’t bring himself to light it, but he doesn’t know why, and it’s kind of making him feel a little crazy. Crazier than he felt when he’d discovered there was an entire dimension of monsters living just on the other side of this godforsaken town.
The streets have been quieter since Vecna’s defeat, not many people going out after dark, so the public park is a good place to go to be alone - not that Eddie’s lacking in alone time these days. The thought fills him with bitterness even though he knows it’s not fair, because plenty of his new - friends? - had reached out to him in the weeks after their final battle, as he liked to call it. He’d received a few calls from Robin, some from Dustin - a lot from Dustin actually, and even a couple from Steve. But even though he’d wanted to pick up, wanted desperately to accept the offers to hang out, he hadn’t. He’d turned down the first few invitations and then stopped picking up the phone at all, too guilty to put himself through Dustin’s disappointed, kicked puppy “Oh. All right, well, next time?” every time he said no.
So he just really doesn’t expect to see anyone when he walks to the park tonight, hands stuffed in his jacket pockets, fiddling with his joint and lighter. He pauses and frowns a few feet away from the swing set, wondering if whoever it is has heard him approaching, and if he should turn and run. He squints, unable to make them out from behind, but then they turn their head, and Eddie feels panic slide down his spine like someone’s cracked an egg over the top of his head.
He takes a step forward even though everything in his mind is screaming at him to run - maybe it’s curiosity, or maybe he’s just hit with the realization that he’s been feeling so fucking alone, it’s nice to see another person in front of him, someone he knows at least a little. Another step forward has his palms sweating, so he pulls his hands out of his pockets and wipes them on his thighs. Steve perks up a bit and Eddie can make out a frown in what little sunlight is left.
“Harrington?”
Eddie’s voice is hoarse, like he hasn’t used it in weeks - which, really, he supposes he hasn’t. Steve doesn’t jump or anything, he doesn’t even look startled; just turns around slowly to lock eyes with Eddie, expression blank. It’s…weird. Steve’s always shining with an irritatingly…bright aura, even throughout all the bullshit and the monsters and the fighting and corralling the kids. It’s freaky to see him looking so…hollow.
“Hey Eddie.”
He’s not sure why, but he’d expected Steve to call him Munson. And his voice is empty too, just as raspy as Eddie’s. It’s weird. This is fucking weird.
Against his better judgment, Eddie walks forward, sinking slowly into the swing next to Steve. Unsure what he should say, or if he should say anything at all, Eddie taps his fingers against his knees, trying to get his legs to stop vibrating. Steve is staring at the ground and hasn’t said anything either, and Eddie’s anxiety is spiking with each passing second. What the hell is wrong?
“Hey Harrington…you okay?”
Finally Steve looks up, as the remaining sunlight bleeds away. Eddie groans internally, wondering if it would be weird to whip out his lighter and hold it in front of Steve’s face. Okay, no. That would definitely be weird.
“Fine, why do you ask?”
He sounds like a fucking pod person.
“You sure?” Eddie presses, licking his lips. It’s not like he’s got a ton of personal experience with Steve Harrington, but he’s a well known guy, and he’s always running around town with his bright clothes and perfectly coiffed hair, a commanding presence. The kids look up to him, they adore him - it’s a gross case of hero worship, if you ask Eddie. Okay - honestly, after seeing Steve in action in the Upside Down, he can’t say it’s not deserved. But the point is, the Steve in front of Eddie is not the Steve he’s seen over the past few years, and it’s kind of scaring the shit out of him. Is he sleep walking? Is he possessed? Come to think of it, after Vecna - okay, now Eddie wants to throw up. Oh god, is he gonna throw up in front of Steve Harrington?
“No one really comes out here anymore,” He says, instead of vomiting. “It’s, uh…it’s kinda my spot.”
It’s weird to talk to someone when you can’t see their face. He supposes it’s no different than talking on the phone, but when he thinks about it - it’s not the same at all.
“Just wanted to get some air,” Steve says, in that same hollow voice. “A walk sounded good.”
“Sure,” Eddie says, nodding even though Steve can’t see it. “Me too, I come out here almost every night. It’s nice to be alone, you know.”
“Aren’t you always alone?” Steve asks. Eddie frowns, jerking back a little even though it hadn’t actually sounded like a mean question. Still, his cheeks burn with embarrassment, and he reaches up to grip the grimy chains of the swing, tight enough to hurt. “No one’s seen you in weeks.”
Maybe it’s wishful thinking, but Eddie thinks he almost sounds accusatory.
“I - ”
“It’s cool,” Steve interrupts. “You don’t have to explain anything to me.”
But I want to, Eddie wants to say. You saved my life. You all did. I owe you an explanation. But if he can’t explain it to himself, there’s no way he can explain it to anyone else, especially not Steve Harrington. Or whoever the hell this is. He bows his head, digging the toe of his shoe into the dirt. “Sorry.”
“For what?” He hears rather than sees Steve stand up; for some reason he tenses, braces for impact. But all he feels is a soft breeze as Steve walks past him, stopping after a few steps. “Sorry to take your spot, Munson.”
And then Eddie is alone.
➳
Eddie doesn’t return to the park for three days.
It’s not because he doesn’t want to - in fact, he wants to go back so bad it makes him feel like a fucking crazy person. He hadn’t realized just how starved he’d been for human interaction, even the creepy haunted doll vibe Steve’s got going on. He wants to back every night to see if Steve will be sitting there on that swing, but he can’t bring himself to do it because he’s got no fucking idea what he would do if Steve were there, and isn’t sure how he’d face the disappointment if he wasn’t.
On the fourth night, he caves.
He feels like a fucking creep, getting this worked up and obsessive over an awkward, ten minute interaction with a guy he doesn’t really know all that well, but Eddie decides to blame it on lack of sleep, lack of human interaction, and what’s likely some level of post traumatic stress disorder.
Monday night he leaves a little earlier than usual, making the trek from his trailer to the park with dread simmering in his gut. It feels a little like anticipation, maybe - he’s had a little trouble differentiation emotions recently. Hah! Insightful as ever, who needs therapy? Certainly not him. He’s good, normal, dandy, A-okay -
Steve is sitting on the swing.
It doesn’t make any sense because Eddie nearly doubles over in relief, but a small part of him had been hoping Steve wouldn’t be there and he hadn’t realized until now. He’s at least grateful he’s coming from the direction he is, from behind the swing set; he’s not sure he could bear it if Steve had to watch him approach. And even then, he hasn’t decided if he’s going to. He’s got plenty of time to back out, say fuck it and run home.
Like the coward he is.
The thought makes him angry - it makes him petulant. Sure his heart is beating so fast it feels like it’s gonna burst through his chest and flop into the dirt like a dying fish, but his legs are moving and he’s getting closer and closer to the swings, trying to ignore the way Steve’s hair looks like a fucking halo, illuminated by the sun. Eddie’s got no clue what time the sun is actually supposed to set but he’s got a vague idea, and if he’s right, they’ve got maybe half an hour of light left.
Steve doesn’t look up with Eddie sits down, but he does speak. His voice has still got that same emptiness to it; Eddie finds himself disappointed, for some reason. It’s stupid to think Steve would just magically be himself again (as if you know him well enough to know what that even means, a nasty little voice in his head sneers) but still. “Thought you said you were here every night.”
And what the hell does that mean?
Has Steve been coming back, hoping to see Eddie? It’s a stupid thought - so stupid that Eddie takes it and stomps on it, shoving it in a box and kicking it under the bed in the back of his silly, smooth little brain. Idiot.
“I said almost every night,” He hears himself say. Steve looks up at him and finally, god, finally there’s the ghost of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. It’s still kind of hollow and dead, but it’s something. Weirdly, Eddie wants to shove his fingers into the corners of Steve’s lips and push them up even more. “Were you hoping to see me again, Harrington?”
To his great surprise, Steve shrugs. “Maybe.”
“All right,” Eddie says, all weird and too loud, because what the fuck. “What’s up with you, man? You’re not really living up to your established sobriquet.”
Steve frowns.
Eddie waves a hand in front of his own face, then in Steve’s general vicinity. “Eddie ‘The Freak’ Munson. Steve The Hair-ington.”
He actually gets a laugh at that one, and Eddie feels emboldened.
“Did we switch bodies or something? Cause no offense man, but you’re making me feel like the normal one here.”
It occurs to Eddie that maybe his preconceived notions of Steve Harrington are perhaps the tiniest bit off. Or maybe, Steve’s been a closet lunatic his whole life and he’s had everyone fooled. Honestly, it could go either way.
“How come you disappeared on us?” Steve asks, looking up at Eddie. There are deep circles under his eyes and stubble on his chin and upper lip. His hair looks thick but deflated, sort of greasy, and his t-shirt’s got a few stains on it. Honestly, he looks just about as bad as Eddie feels. He expects it to make him feel better, but it does just the opposite. And like everything else lately, Eddie can’t fucking figure out why. Perfect - one more mystery for him to obsess over when he’s sitting in his room, alone.
Maddeningly, his brain is stuck on the word ‘us,’ as if it’s a reminder that they’re all part of some club of the eternally bonded through the murder of inter-dimensional monsters, some big family. And yeah, sure, maybe Eddie had almost been a member, but they all know he doesn’t really belong. The thing is, Steve is saying it like he does belong, like Eddie was supposed to just pick up the phone, come over for pizza, and suddenly become a part of ‘us.’ It doesn’t help his guilt - mostly over Dustin and the Hellfire kids. God, he misses DnD.
“I didn’t - I wasn’t a part of…you guys,” Eddie says, as if that makes any sense. “I didn’t disappear. I was never there.”
God, he sounds dramatic. But Steve twists his lips to the side, nodding like he understands. It’s worse, Eddie thinks, than if he was angry.
“Hate to break it to ya Eds,” He says, and Eddie wishes he’d call him freak or anything else. “But once you fight the monsters, you’re part of us.”
“What if I don’t wanna be?” God, Eddie is…he’s tired. He doesn’t wanna talk about this, any of it. He wants to run away, run until his lungs burn. He wants to be able to smoke a fucking joint without vibrating out of his skin. He wants to go find some fucking pomade and fix Steve’s hair.
Steve shrugs. “Too bad.” And then there’s another haunted doll smile. “They miss you, you know. The kids. Mike’s been leading a, uh, campaign? But it’s not the same. They don’t seem as into it.”
Eddie resists the urge to clap his hands over his ears. Steve doesn’t sound angry, or accusatory, or annoyed, or anything. It’s like he’s delivering a book report. He should be yelling, in Eddie’s face - he should try to hit him, or something. He knows how to handle that - how to respond to anger, to violence.
“Why are you here, Harrington? Seriously.”
Steve frowns, kicking at the dirt and licking his lips. “I already told you.”
“Yeah, somehow I’m not buying that you wanted another look at my ugly mug.” It’s not fair for Eddie to be angry, but someone’s got to do it, for christ’s sake. He’s just so fucking confused - he wishes he’d never started coming here, never seen Steve’s pathetic form hunched over on the swing, wishes he’d never - he just wishes. “Why are you here?”
“You should talk to someone,” Steve says, ignoring the question. He frowns a little. “Someone who understands.”
“There’s nothing to talk about,” Eddie snaps, jerking to his feet. There’s something thrumming beneath his skin, something he can’t identify and wants gone immediately. It’s ugly and hot and kind of exhilarating. Yeah, he’s definitely going crazy. And Steve is sitting there looking at him, patient as ever. Jesus.
“I’m just saying,” Steve says softly. There’s something behind his voice, something that sounds dangerously close to sympathy. “I’m here. If you decide there’s something to talk about.”
He gets to his feet and sways a little, wincing and bringing both of his hands to his side. Eddie licks his lips, deflating and taking a hesitant step forward.
“You good?” He asks. He’d almost forgotten - Steve’s wounds are probably still healing. They flash across his mind suddenly, bitten and torn and raw, dripping and oozing blood - Eddie swallows, suddenly queasy. Steve closes his eyes and inhales deeply before his hands drop to his sides and he sticks one into the pocket of his jeans. Eddie frowns as Steve steps forward into his space, pressing something into his hand.
“In case you lost it,” He mumbles, and gives Eddie a weak smile before walking away and leaving him alone again. Eddie looks down to see a crinkled piece of paper with a phone number scrawled across it.
He sits in the dark for hours.
➳
Eddie doesn’t sleep.
He tries, he really does. He lays in bed for hours and hours, but it just won’t happen. And it doesn’t make sense because he’s so fucking tired - god, he’s tired. But he’d had a few nightmares right after everything had happened, and ever since then it’s like his brain is afraid to let him sleep again. The nightmares are almost worse than the real thing, because he sees Chrissy’s body snapping and twisting in front of him, over and over again. So yeah, he’d like to sleep, but he’d also like to stop reliving the most horrific moments of his fucking life.
Instead of sleeping, Eddie thinks.
He thinks so much, it circles around to not thinking. He thinks about Chrissy, and Dustin, Hellfire, Vecna, the Upside Down, Steve, Robin, the bullying he’d faced in high school, Chrissy, bones snapping, Chrissy, snapping bones, the bones, snapping, bones snapping, twist snap crack
until it all blurs together into one long, loud screeching noise in his mind. Sometimes the screaming comes out of him, out loud, and he doesn’t realize until he feels the rawness in his throat.
And now, he thinks about Steve.
It’s not just Steve, not really. Thoughts about Steve shift into thoughts about Dustin, Hellfire, Robin, his - friends? No. Trauma bonding doesn't automatically make you friends, it just makes you traumatized. It just doesn’t make sense because Eddie wants friends - wants them more than he would ever admit aloud, but apparently not enough to answer the fucking phone and make an effort to have any. It doesn’t make sense.
What the fuck is wrong with him?
Eddie twists the joint between his fingers, glaring at it a bit. Just stuff it in your mouth, his brain snaps, and fucking light it.
He wants to call Steve. He wants to call Steve so badly his fingers itch, twitching toward the stupid little piece of paper he’s been keeping in the pocket of his jeans for two days. No more trips back to the park even though he’s dying to know if Steve has gone back, but he’s been thinking about the paper and the number and Steve’s flat hair - god, he needs to find something else to preoccupy his fucked up brain.
The logical part of him is saying that it’s normal for him to be thinking about Steve this much, since he’s the only person Eddie’s actually talked to in weeks. In preparation for his isolation he’d gone to the store after his name had been cleared and stocked up on soup cans, bread, peanut butter, and jam, though really he only eats like, once a day. Twice if he remembers. Okay, so he’s kind of wasting away here, but it’s fine. He’ll be fine. One day he’ll be fine. And having his name cleared by the government doesn’t mean everyone just magically decided to forgive him. He’s still a pariah, a freak, hated and wanted even if it’s not on an official level.
He sets the joint on his bed, glaring down at it and placing his lighter next to it.
Okay - he sleeps a little.
Two or three hours at the most, but it’s fitful and he thrashes and gasps awake every few minutes so really is it productive sleep? Is it better than no sleep at all? Who’s to say?
A licensed professional. Probably.
Snap.
Eddie practically trips over his own feet in his haste to get to the phone, dialing with the paper right in front of his face even though he’d memorized it about an hour after he’d gotten home from the park.
Steve picks up on the third ring.
“Hello?”
Eddie doesn’t expect the tears burning behind his eyes when he hears Steve’s voice, or the tightening in his chest, or the way his breath feels like it’s permanently stuck in his throat. His fingers tighten around the phone, heart beating fast, too fast, way too fast to be normal or healthy. He tries to speak, to say something or anything or even burst into tears, because any of that would be better than sitting there in silence like a fucking idiot.
Crack.
“Hello?”
Silence. And then -
“Eddie?”
A tiny, pesky flare of relief worms its way into Eddie’s brain. It’s nice, stupidly nice, to hear Steve saying his name - it’s grounding, in a way. He sucks in a breath.
“Eddie, is that you?”
He needs to say something. He has to say something.
“I’m - I’m sorry - ” And he sucks in another rough breath, bringing one hand to his throat like he’s trying to massage the air out.
“Don’t be sorry. Can you breathe for me?”
Can he? He definitely can’t. He doesn’t remember how, how the fuck do you breathe? Isn’t that something your body is supposed to do on its own, how are you supposed to do it on purpose?
“You don’t have to say anything Eddie, just stay on the phone with me. Just take a deep breath through your nose, then exhale out of your mouth. Can you do that?”
Steve’s voice sounds faint. It’s hard to make out over the cacophony in Eddie’s head, overlapping voices and shuts and cracks he can’t identify individually but god are they loud. He’s shaking now, too warm, and tears are spilling over his cheeks, stinging his eyes. It’s fucking humiliating.
Somehow, through it all, Steve’s voice still breaks through.
Fingers trembling as they hold the phone even tighter, Eddie takes in a deep, rattling breath, chest aching with the effort.
“Good, that’s good,” Steve encourages. “Now out through your mouth.”
Eddie doesn’t expect it to actually help.
They stay like that for what feels like forever; somehow, Eddie’s body stops trembling so much, and his breathing starts to feel normal. Steve just keeps repeating himself, In through your nose, out through your mouth, and even though Eddie’s got it figured out by now, he still appreciates the help. He starts to feel okay, actually, relieved and maybe a little calm. His eyes are closed, dried tears on his cheeks.
“Eds? You still with me?”
Another deep breath.
“You did so w - ”
Eddie hangs up the phone.
➳
It’s stupid, but a small part of him hopes - maybe even expects - Steve to call him back. He waits by the phone for at least half an hour and then kicks himself for being so stupid. Of course Steve doesn’t want to call back - Eddie’s an ungrateful shit.
How come you disappeared on us?
He didn’t. He didn’t.
Only he did. And he feels bad about it - he feels fucking awful. God, he feels like a shit. But he doesn’t understand how he’s supposed to just go back to normal, after the things he’s seen, the things he’s been through. Death and violence and grit and grime - it still feels like he’s caked in dirt and gore from the Upside Down, like he’ll never really be clean. Steve and Dustin and Nancy - they all seem to be used to this, like it’s normal, and they’ve all bounced back so quickly. But Eddie hasn’t. He’s scared, all the time, constantly reliving it all and terrified there’s another monster around the corner. He’s not brave like the rest of them, and he can’t bring himself to go act like he is, to act like he doesn’t jump at the slightest noise, to act like he isn’t hearing voices all the time. It’s embarrassing and stupid and there’s gotta be something wrong with him - why are they all okay and he’s not?
So he hides.
It’s nice Uncle Wayne doesn’t ask too many questions, and he’s always working nights anyway, so he doesn’t really catch on to how little sleep Eddie’s getting, or the fact that he’s not really a functioning human being anymore. It’s nice but it’s still isolating, another addition to the list of things that don’t make sense in Eddie’s exhausted little mind.
Two days after his phone call with Steve, Eddie’s sitting on the floor of his bedroom with the joint in one hand, lighter in the other. He’d tried the stupid breathing exercise and was only a little annoyed to find that it helped, but not as much as when he had Steve talking him through it. He’s shaking a little less tonight, so that’s a plus. Maybe.
Inhaling deeply, Eddie brings the joint to his lips. Almost there, he thinks So close. And then his fucking hand starts shaking again.
“God dammit!” He shouts. “I just wanna smoke!” He tosses the joint onto his bed and drags his fingers through his hair, wincing when he feels how tangled and greasy it is. Come to think of it - he gives his t-shirt a whiff. God, he’s kinda rank. Maybe a shower would do him some good.
After he’s relatively clean, he tugs on a t-shirt and some sweatpants, curling up on his bed and closing his eyes. He’s so fucking tired. The joint is looking at him, mocking him. He sticks his tongue out at it and flips it the bird before burying his face in his pillow and trying to ignore how his damp hair feels itchy on the back of his neck.
Eddie didn’t really used to be a jumpy person - he used to be the one making people jump. But ever since he returned from the Upside Down he’s scared of fucking everything - so when there’s a loud banging coming from outside his trailer, he can’t stop the shriek that comes out of him as he scrambles around his mattress, heart stuck in his throat. It takes him a few moments to realize that someone is knocking on his front door, and his brain goes through all the possibilities - it could be Jason and his band of douchebags, come to take revenge, or it could be another monster - although knocking doesn’t really seem like a very monster-esque thing to do.
Unable to make his voice work, Eddie creeps out of his room and over to the front door, crouching down and willing his body to stop fucking shaking.
“Eddie?”
What the fuck?
He jumps to his feet, frowning as he pulls the door open. Relief floods him, warm and bright, even as he fights the urge to slam the door closed and run away.
Steve Harrington is standing on his doorstep.
Notes:
i've been writing for the same fandom for the past three years and writing something new like this is INTIMIDATING!
Chapter 2
Summary:
“It’s a nice room.”
“It’s an ugly room,” Steve says, snorting. Eddie can’t help smiling a little.
“Oh good,” Steve says conversationally, as he gets to work tearing the blankets and sheets off the bed. Eddie’s not sure if he should help. “I was starting to think you forgot how to do that.”
Notes:
this fic maybe is a way for me to cope with how bad my panic disorder has gotten lately. i also extended the length to 3 chapters, cause i kinda wrote a lot more than originally intended. i just love them so much.
E rating won't apply til chapter 3, sorry!!
i hope you enjoy!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Steve looks better.
Only a few days later and the color has returned to his face, his chin is smooth and soft looking, and his hair looks shiny and healthy, even in the dim light of Eddie’s trailer. He’s wearing a pale blue polo and some tan shorts, and he looks just as relieved as Eddie feels. He looks so much better already, and Eddie is stunned to find that he hates it. It makes something ugly claw at his chest, something he doesn't understand and doesn't want to understand.
“What the hell are you doing here?” He blurts. Steve grins a little. What the fuck pill did he take, to get him all fixed up like this? Eddie wants one. He wants ten.
“I was worried about you,” Steve says, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Wanted to see if you were okay.”
“Couldn’t have tried a phone call?” Eddie snaps, folding his arms across his chest. He’s suddenly way too aware of how plain his outfit is, like he’s missing his armor. And Steve is looking at him - looking hard, like he’s trying to stare into Eddie’s very soul. He feels too exposed, laid bare and vulnerable - god, what the fuck is Steve doing here, and so late?
“I wanted to see you in person,” Steve explains patiently and slowly, like he’s talking to a child. “You didn’t look so hot the other day.”
You’re one to talk, Eddie wants to say, but it feels too mean.
“I’m fine,” He mumbles, stepping backwards like that will make Steve’s gaze less intense. “You can go. I’m alive.”
Steve steps forward and reaches up to tug at a piece of Eddie’s hair, and Eddie’s so shocked he lets him. Okay, so maybe he looks normal again but he’s still acting like a fucking weirdo.
“You always go around touching people without their consent?” Eddie asks, suddenly fired up. Steve grins at him, and Eddie’s stomach flips because there’s the old King Steve.
“Have you eaten today?” He asks. Eddie frowns.
“Go home, man.”
“Sure, but there’s a whole tray of lasagna there that I’m not gonna be able to finish by myself,” Steve says, wiggling his eyebrows.
Is he…inviting Eddie over for dinner? At midnight?
“Quit fucking around, Harrington,” He says with a sigh, rubbing at his eyes. It’s nice, even though he doesn’t want to admit. There’s too much going on in his head to try and deny that it’s good to see Steve, it feels good that he was worried, it feels good to just be standing in front of him, like somehow his aura is going to rub off onto Eddie and be absorbed through osmosis. And really…lasagna sounds good. He hasn’t had a real meal in a long time.
But if he goes to Steve’s, he’ll be pushed to talk. And then maybe he’ll get comfortable, and have a good time, and then he’ll have to leave again, and then he’ll be sitting here, alone again. Why go through all of that when he can just skip right to the end, and stay here by himself from the get go?
“Eddie,” Steve says. He sounds firm. “Will you come with me? Please? You don’t even have to talk, seriously. We can eat in silence.”
“Why do you wanna have dinner with me so bad?” Eddie grumbles. “I’m not - you don’t have to take care of me. I’m fine.”
And Eddie’s already decided he’s gonna go, but then Steve’s smile turns sad and he murmurs, “It’s not just for you, you know.”
➳
It’s embarrassing, but Steve gives him a few minutes to change. He doesn’t ask, just waits outside the trailer while Eddie stumbles into some jeans and yanks on one of his less decorated jackets, making sure to grab his joint - just in case. And then he’s riding in Steve’s car in silence, walking into his big fancy house, and sitting on the couch with a plate full of lasagna.
It’s fucking weird.
They should probably be bantering, exchanging quips and light-hearted insults, and maybe they would, if Eddie wasn’t such a broken husk of a person. He wants to ask Steve if he made the lasagna himself, wants to ask where his parents are, wants to ask why he didn’t invite Robin or Nancy or someone else over for dinner, why he baked a lasagna so late at night - he has a lot of questions, but he doesn’t ask any of them. The silence is awkward but Steve doesn’t seem to care. Maybe he doesn’t even notice? But that feels impossible.
“Wanna watch a movie?” Steve asks, setting down a can of Coke on the coffee table in front of Eddie. “We have, um…well, not much. I’ve got the Goonies?”
“Sure,” Eddie mumbles, all tensed and hunched over his plate, gripping his fork so tight his knuckles are white.
“You can relax,” Steve says. He’s facing away from Eddie but there’s an obvious smile in his voice.
“I’ve never relaxed a day in my life,” Eddie responds, trying to loosen his grip on his fork. It’s a joke but not really.
“Well try to start now,” Steve says, throwing himself down on the couch a respectable distance away. “Just eat.”
So Eddie eats.
He really likes the movie actually, but he’s paying attention to anything but the TV screen. The lasagna is really good - it’s fucking amazing, and it’s not just because it’s the first home cooked meal he’s had in weeks. It’s rich, hot, and fills him up quickly. He tries not to feel embarrassed as he wolfs it down but Steve doesn’t really seem to be paying all that much attention to him. Eddie reaches for his Coke without thinking, feeling maybe a little more close to okay than he’s been in a long time.
And then he cracks the soda open.
A horrified gasp is punched from his lungs before he can stop it, dread settling over him like a second skin.
“N - n - ”
“Eddie?” Steve is on his knees in front of him in an instant, frowning up at Eddie, searching his face. “Eddie what’s wrong?”
“N - n, n - ”
He shouldn’t have come.
“Eddie,” Steve says, softer now. “You’re having a panic attack.”
Yeah no shit! He wants to snap, but he can’t speak - can’t move, can barely hear, just keeps gasping and blinking and shivering. He’s aware of Steve’s hands on his knees, pressing down slightly, as if trying to ground him, but all he can hear is snap, crack,
“I’m right here.” Steve’s voice floats up to him and he tries to hold on to it, not let it slip away like a balloon on a string floating up into the stratosphere. “You’re okay, Eddie. You’re safe. You’re going to be fine.”
“N - St - ”
“It’s okay,” Steve soothes, and Eddie is vaguely aware of his thumbs rubbing in soothing circles against his knees. “Just breathe. Breathe with me.”
Eddie’s not used to having another person see him like this, but he’s so fucking scared he can’t find it in himself to be embarrassed. He squeezes his eyes shut as his breathing picks up in speed, doing the exact opposite of what he’s supposed to; Steve is still talking, saying something about breathing and counting, but Eddie can’t fucking hear him because it’s so loud in his head, and there are hot tears prickling in his eyes, all because he opened a fucking can of Coke.
“Eddie!”
His hand darts out to wrap around one of Steve’s wrists, holding on way too tight to be comfortable. But it jolts him out of the mess in his head and his eyes snap down to lock on Steve’s, even as he squeezes harder and harder, definitely hard enough to leave a mark. Steve just looks up at him with wide eyes, unmoving, looking like he’s barely breathing. Eddie’s lips part, short staccato breaths puffing through them. He realizes he can kind of feel Steve’s pulse through the warm skin of his wrist and for some reason that’s what makes him let go, eyelids fluttering as he finally sucks in a deep breath.
Eddie slumps back against the couch, head falling back as he closes his eyes and a tear slides down his cheek, thick and slow in its descent.
Then the humiliation comes flooding in.
“Oh my - oh my god,” He groans, trying to pull himself up. But Steve is quick, jumping to his feet and pushing Eddie down by his shoulders. His hands slide down a little, splayed out over Eddie’s sternum. “What - ?”
“You’re not going anywhere,” Steve says firmly, “Not tonight. No way, man.”
“I need to get out of here,” Eddie rasps, blinking down at where Steve’s hands are pressing against his chest. “I - that was - I have to go!”
“Why?” Steve asks, and it looks awkward and uncomfortable, the way he’s bent and looming over Eddie’s trembling form. “You don’t have to feel embarrassed Eddie, it was just a panic attack - we all get them - ”
Eddie can’t help it; he barks out a laugh. “Yeah, okay. Sure. Just let me go, Harrington. I mean it.”
“What are you gonna do if you go home?” Steve challenges. Why the fuck does he give a shit? “I wanna be here for you, Eddie. Why won’t you let me?”
“I DON’T KNOW!”
Finally Steve lets go of him, stumbling backwards with wide eyes. He doesn’t look afraid, but Eddie kind of wishes he did. No, he just looks - god, Eddie doesn’t know how he looks.
“I don’t know,” Eddie whispers, leaning forward with his elbows resting on his knees. He buries his face in his hands and feels tears burning in his eyes again, feels his throat thickening with emotion. “I can’t - I can’t do it, man. I can’t do anything. I can’t even smoke a fucking joint!” I can’t even look at you right now.
Weirdly, it feels…good, to get some of this out. So he keeps going. “I can’t do shit, Harrington. I can’t sleep, I can’t eat, I can’t breathe, I can’t - I can’t do anything. I can’t pretend I’m okay like the rest of you, and I can’t pick up the fucking phone and - and let anyone help me, and I don’t know why. I’m fucked up, man. I’m so fucked up and I - I don’t - ”
Steve’s face softens, and Eddie hates it. He doesn't want this, doesn't want this sympathy, this concern, because these are the kinds of things you can get addicted to, and quickly. The kind of things you can start depending on, and Eddie doesn't wanna depend on anyone. People are unreliable. They let you down, even if you fought interdimensional monsters together.
They’ve never let you down. They wouldn’t.
God, he's so fucking tired.
“I need to go home,” He whispers, but all the fight is suddenly gone from him. He stares at the soda can, cracked open and dripping condensation onto the table. He’s struck by the sudden urge to ask for a coaster.
“If you really want me to take you home,” Steve says softly, and suddenly his voice is much closer than before. “I will. But Eddie.”
There's a dip in the cushion next to him, then a hand on his shoulder. Eddie drags his head up, meeting Steve’s gaze with watery eyes.
“I’d like you to stay.”
And really, Eddie is too tired to say no.
Steve cleans up their dishes as Eddie sits on the couch, staring blankly into space. He’s vaguely aware of the clinking of dishes and running water, and it doesn’t escape his notice that the Coke can was the first thing Steve snatched away.
The thing is, Steve Harrington is not a nice guy.
It’s not that he’s a bad guy, because he’s not. He’s great with the kids even though they don’t really listen to him, and he’s got a fierce protective streak. He’d been undeniably impressive in the Upside Down, killing demobats and keeping his cool (as much as one can after being chewed to pieces and working to kill an all-powerful monster in an alternate dimension) but he still wasn’t nice . He was snarky and constantly arguing with Dustin, kind of confused - not like he is now. Quiet, patient, kind. As much as Eddie wants to appreciate it, lean into it, it makes him feel even shittier, in a way. Like Steve thinks he’s a fucking basket case and needs to be treated like he’s made of glass, a ticking time bomb, a fucking child. He doesn’t need someone to feed him and wipe his mouth and tuck him into bed.
But he can’t deny it sounds nice.
There are two parts of Eddie battling each other - the scared one, the one terrified of getting close to people and having them realize he’s a fucking nutcase who can’t handle his shit, and the scared one that wants to curl up and let himself be cared for. He’s not sure which one is winning right now, as he sits and watches Steve clean up and disappear down the hall, coming back with a pile of blankets and a pillow.
“We’ve got a guest room, if you wanna follow me,” Steve says, jerking his chin upwards. “It’s down the hall from my room.”
“You really don’t have to do this,” Eddie says, but he clambers to his feet and follows Steve upstairs anyway. He’s got such a nice house, nothing out of place, but as nice as it is, it still feels…empty. Hollow. What’s the point of all this space if you have no one to share it with? “Where are your parents?”
“No clue,” Steve says with a shrug, and there’s so much behind those two words but Eddie’s got a feeling it’s not the time to get into it.
When they enter the guest room Eddie takes a look around, letting out a derisive laugh at how needlessly fancy it is. Queen bed in the center, ugly ass bedding, horrible paintings on the walls. He can’t deny, though - the bed looks really comfortable.
“Thought you’d prefer these,” Steve says with a slight grin, holding up the light blue sheets in his arms. Eddie shrugs.
“It’s a nice room.”
“It’s an ugly room,” Steve says, snorting. Eddie can’t help smiling a little.
“Oh good,” Steve says conversationally, as he gets to work tearing the blankets and sheets off the bed. Eddie’s not sure if he should help. “I was starting to think you forgot how to do that.”
“Shut up,” Eddie mumbles, kicking at the air in Steve’s general direction. “You’re just painfully unfunny. And a terrible host.”
“I’ll have to work on my joke book,” Steve says, nodding seriously. “Gonna write about this in my diary, you know. Eddie Munson came over for a sleepover tonight, and he really hurt my feelings. I hope he apologizes in the morning. ”
“You’ll be waiting a long time for that apology,” Eddie shoots back, feeling a little silly as he grins over at Steve.
“At least I’ll have something to live for,” Steve says wistfully. He steps back, dipping into a low bow. “Your quarters, my liege.”
All right, what the fuck? Steve is acting like…like Eddie.
“Why are you doing that?” Eddie suddenly snaps, hating the way Steve’s face instantly falls.
“Doing what?” Is he really that confused?
“Acting all - nice. And, weird. Acting like me, like you’re making fun of me or something - ”
“I’m not making fun of you, I would never - ”
“Yes you would!” Eddie explodes, even though he doesn’t mean to. He doesn’t want to. “People like you treated me like shit my whole life, and you can’t just - you can’t just stand here being this fucking nice to me, people don’t just change like that - ”
“You think I’m like Jason?” Steve asks, a hard edge to his voice. It sends a weird thrill down Eddie’s spine and he does not want to explore that. “After everything you’ve learned and all we’ve been through together, you think I’d just start acting like some fucking idiot again, calling you a freak and trying to beat you up?”
“I - I don’t - ”
“I get it, man. I know you don’t think I do, but I get it. This shit changes you. You saw something horrible happen to someone you cared about, and then you found out about all this - all the monster shit. It’s fucking insane and just because I’m used to it, just cause the kids are used to it, doesn’t make it easy. It doesn’t mean it doesn’t have a lasting effect on us. Just cause you don’t see anyone breaking down, it doesn’t mean no one is.”
It’s not just for you, you know.
They stand there in silence for a few moments, while Steve takes deep breaths and Eddie tries not to cry. He wonders how many more outbursts he’s got until Steve finally decides he’s not worth the headache. He’s not sure he wants to find out.
“I’m…I’m sorry,” Eddie whispers. He walks slowly over to the bed and sits down on the edge - and he was right. It’s comfortable as fuck. “I’m not used to having…people. I’m not used to counting on anyone, or having people be nice to me. I guess I don’t know how to respond to it.”
“I get it,” Steve says, running a hand through his hair. Eddie expects it to bounce back into place but it stays a little flat, a couple strands sticking down over his eyes. “I really do. I don’t expect you to just…be okay with all this. That would be crazy. And you don't have to…be nice back, or anything. Well, that's - I just mean, you don't have to be something you're not.”
Steve Harrington is kind of insightful.
And Eddie has no idea who he really is. Not anymore.
“I don’t like you like this,” Eddie says, trying to sniffle surreptitiously. “All serious and nice. Can you make fun of DnD, or something? You’re freaking me out.”
“I’ve actually been playing,” Steve says, laughing lightly and joining Eddie on the bed. He smells kind of nice, like cologne or something. Had he put on cologne just to come kidnap Eddie? “It’s kinda fun. I mean I suck, but I’m having a good time with it.”
“You’re shitting me,” Eddie says flatly. “You don’t play - shut the fuck up, Harrington.”
Steve nods. “I’m a level two bard, if you can believe it.”
“I can’t,” Eddie says, an incredulous grin stretching across his face. And then Steve’s face splits into a wide smile and laughter bubbles up and out of his throat; he falls backwards on the bed, hands covering his stomach.
“I’m definitely fucking with you,” He says through peals of laughter. “But I almost had you, didn’t I?”
“Painfully unfunny,” Eddie says, shaking his head. He reaches down to punch Steve lightly on the arm, still grinning. “But that’s more like it.”
Steve’s laughter trails off, and he lifts his arms as if to rest his hands behind his head, but suddenly gasps in pain, shooting upright.
“Oh shit,” Eddie mumbles, “You good, Harrington?”
Steve nods, wincing and bringing his hands to his sides. “Yeah, I…don’t quite have my full range of motion,” He says with a grimace. “It’s not all the time, but sometimes it just - stuff hurts, you know.”
Eddie wonders what his scars look like.
“I’ll let you get comfortable,” Steve says softly, getting to his feet. A tiny little thrill of panic sparks at the base of Eddie’s spine. “I can bring you some clothes to sleep in, just gimme a second.”
There’s probably some sort of joke here about them sharing clothes, or their styles being different, but as Steve steps out of the room Eddie is suddenly hit with a wave of fear so strong it makes him nauseous. He hunches over, trying to get a breath in, calm down before Steve comes back and sees him falling apart over something so stupid as him leaving the room.
He’s sitting upright by the time Steve gets back, a pile of clothes in his arms.
“Geez man, how long do you expect me to be here?”
It’s just a joke but Eddie’s chest tightens when Steve shrugs and says, “As long as you want.”
It’s not just for you, you know.
“I - thanks,” Eddie says lamely. “Really. This is…this is really cool of you.”
Steve smiles at him, setting the clothes down on top of the dresser against the far wall. “There’s some sweatpants and t-shirts here,” He says, poking through the pile. “And a pair of boxers, if you wanna take a shower. There’s a bathroom here.” He gestures towards a door Eddie had assumed was a closet.
Rich people.
“Thanks,” Eddie says quietly. Steve nods and smiles faintly.
“I’ll see you in the morning?” Steve says, stopping when he gets to the bedroom door. Please don't go, Eddie wants to say. Instead he clears his throat, scratching the back of his neck.
“You can…leave that open,” He mumbles. Steve gives him a smile that means too much of something, nodding and leaving the door wide open before disappearing down the hall.
➳
When Eddie hears the screams tonight, it takes him a beat too long to realize they're not coming from him.
His first thought is monsters. They've come back and they're attacking Steve, and Eddie is gripped with a terror that seems to bleed into his very veins, locking him into place where he's laying on the bed. But then he remembers it's Steve, Steve screaming, Steve who needs help.
He’s on his feet in seconds.
Eddie barrels down the hall, fumbling with the doorknob to Steve’s room for way too long before he finally gets it open, flicking on the light and whipping around to check for monsters in the corners of the room. And then he realizes that Steve is alone, and he's - asleep? And he's screaming.
It was just a panic attack - we all get them.
“Hey,” Eddie whispers, stumbling forward and grabbing Steve by the shoulders, shaking him a little. “Harrington! You’re - Steve, wake up!”
He’s actually not sure it's wise to wake someone from a night terror but it seems like the best course of action. “Harrington!”
Another scream cuts off and Eddie swears he can hear it echo sharply through the room. Steve gasps himself awake, staring up at Eddie with shocked eyes, tears clinging to his lashes. His chest is heaving and he looks scared and small. Eddie’s chest tightens and aches.
“S - Steve,” He whispers, letting his hands move down from Steve’s shoulders to his chest, gently over his stomach and back up to his arms, as if feeling around for wounds. “Steve - ”
He should be saying more, trying to talk him down like Steve did with him at dinner, but he's not good at this shit and he's so fucking scared , and two minutes ago he'd been positive Steve was getting murdered so all he can do now is say his name over and over, like he's proving to himself that he's alive, he's here.
Steve’s breathing, still shallow, slows a bit as Eddie hovers over him, fingers wrapped tightly around his biceps. Steve’s looking up at him with a confused look on his face, eyebrows still screwed up in fear.
“Eddie,” He mumbles, voice scratchy.
“I’m here, man,” Eddie breathes, unsure when he should let go. He tries, actually, but his fingers won't listen to him. As if he's afraid Steve’s gonna crumble into dust if he lets go.
“Thank you,” Steve murmurs, eyelids fluttering. And then he lifts up one arm and tugs Eddie’s shirt away from his torso, using his other hand to slide up underneath the fabric, fingers splayed out over where Eddie’s heart is. His hand is warm, too warm, but it still sends shivers down Eddie’s spine.
What the fuck what the fuck what the fuck
It takes him a moment to realize that Steve is trying to feel his heartbeat.
“Harrington,” Eddie mumbles. “You’re delirious.”
“Delusional,” Steve supplies, hands dropping back to his sides.
“I’m…are you good now?” Eddie asks, fingers loosening around Steve’s biceps.
“No,” Steve responds, eyelids fluttering again, like he's fighting to keep his eyes open. “Stay.”
“Aw geez Harrington,” Eddie groans, finally releasing Steve’s arms and leaning away from him. “I don’t think that’s - ”
“Stay,” Steve says again, and Eddie might be crazy but it sounds like he's about to cry.
It’s not just for you, you know.
Eddie’s really becoming a big sucker.
“All right,” He mumbles, not quite sure what stay even means. But then Steve pushes his blankets back and wiggles over, making a space in the bed. And why the hell not, after the night they've had?
“Keep the light on,” Steve says, embarrassment bleeding into his voice. Eddie nods - like he's gonna judge.
But the brightness of the room makes this all a little too real. Steve’s body is a fucking furnace as Eddie climbs into the bed next to him, both of them laying on their backs and staring up at the ceiling. And Eddie’s an idiot who never changed into the clothes Steve brought him, so he's stuck in jeans that are scratchy and stuff, bunching up a little around the thighs as he tries to get comfortable.
He turns his head to look over at the little clock on Steve’s bedside table, sighing when he sees that it's barely four in the morning. Does this happen every night?
“Kinda,” Steve says suddenly. Oh shit - did Eddie ask that out loud?? “If I’m lucky I can sleep through the night maybe once a week.”
“Rough,” Eddie says. Then, with a sigh, “I don't really sleep much at all. Maybe a couple hours a night but I wake up every few minutes.”
“That’s not enough sleep,” Steve says, like Eddie doesn't fucking know that. “Have you tried - ”
“I’ve tried everything,” Eddie interrupts. “Believe me.”
They fall into silence, and a weird part of Eddie thinks it’s kind of nice. The circumstances that led here are obviously less than ideal, but for the first time in weeks he’s not alone. And maybe Steve’s had all of his other friends with him this whole time and hasn’t been as alone as Eddie’s been, but he’s here for him tonight, right now. That has to count for something. Right?
He closes his eyes, noticing how slow and steady his breathing is. There’s a slight rustling noise to his right, and Eddie turns his head to see Steve looking at him. Eddie blinks, breath caught in his throat.
Steve’s eyes have some green in them.
He’s got tear tracks drying on his cheeks and his hair is a disaster, sticking up all over the place. His gaze isn’t as intense as it’s been before but his eyes are just so…wide and open. Honest. Like he’s seeing something Eddie never has before.
“You’re kinda pretty,” Steve says, voice heavy with sleep. Then he turns back to stare at the ceiling like he hasn’t just tilted Eddie’s entire world on its fucking axis.
Eddie closes his eyes. Suddenly he’s desperate for sleep, never wanted to be unconscious more in his fucking life, because he doesn’t want to think about what Steve’s just said, or the fact that their hands are so close to touching on the mattress between them, or the memory of the light pressure of Steve’s hands on his knees.
He’s got every intention of sneaking out as soon as Steve falls asleep, but he never gets the chance. When Eddie opens his eyes again there’s sunlight bleeding through the curtains, and the clock reads 9:15 AM.
Notes:
he finally slept! someone give him a pat on the back.
i have a goonies poster hanging up in my room...one of my favorite movies in the world
Chapter 3
Summary:
"You’re brave, Eddie. You’re fucking brave and don’t ever let anyone tell you otherwise, okay?”
Notes:
YOU GUYS I FINALLY FINISHED THIS BEHEMOTH OF A CHAPTER AND WHILE I WAS COPYING IT TO PASTE HERE, HALF OF IT GOT DELETED 😭😭 i was about to have a mental breakdown but i control z'd it back, and thank god cause idk what i would have done otherwise. fucking scary!
i'm so sorry for the length, this completely got away from me and is almost 16k words. i could not stop writing, i love these guys so much. i hope you're like me - when i see long fic updates i get excited! i was nervous writing the sexy stuff for these two but i think i did okay.
i wasn't gonna put robin in originally cause i was already nervous writing steve and eddie but i wanted to throw in a short scene with her cause i've been rewatching from season 1 and i love her so much!
i hope you enjoy!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Eddie doesn’t get to look at beautiful things very often.
There’s his guitar. There was Hellfire. His glorious campaigns, storylines he spent hours and hours on, there was Chrissy
(snap)
and that was about it for him. Sure, going to a high school filled with people for an extra two years Eddie’s had opportunities to look at them, and maybe Hawkins is a nice enough town with nice enough scenery, but he can name on one hand the amount of things he has to gawk at that are truly beautiful.
Steve Harrington has been added to the list.
In reality, Steve’s just a regular dude. Eddie’s seen men far more attractive than him, and far less. But that doesn't really matter, especially not when he looks so soft and peaceful, hair messy in its natural state, eyes a little puffy from crying, lips parted as he breathes deeply. Okay, yeah, Eddie’s a fucking sap. It’s just nice to see Steve like this, especially after last night, after he looked so scared and weak. Eddie knows he’s being a fucking creep but he can’t stop, staring at Steve like he’s gonna disappear.
Stay.
If Eddie’s being honest with himself, he’d probably have done anything Steve asked him to in that moment. He’s not proud of it and it makes him more than a little ashamed, but he’s already latched onto Steve like a fucking barnacle, his brain so embarrassingly eager to seek out any possible comfort. And Steve - two days, what - three? interactions, and Steve is now Eddie’s number one source of comfort.
At least he can admit it.
He can’t help the manic laugh that bubbles from his throat, slapping his hands over his face and digging the heels of his hands into his eyes so hard he sees spots. What he wants to do is lay there all morning and watch Steve sleep, but that’s creepy. That’s creepy and weird and he doesn’t really feel like he needs to live up to his freak reputation, at least not in that way. He should probably get up and…go home? Steve had asked him to stay, but how long had he meant? Does he want Eddie there when he wakes up? Does he want to be alone? Is he gonna be afraid if he wakes up alone? As long as you want, Steve had said.
Eddie doesn’t wanna see Steve afraid ever again.
He’s saved from making the decision himself when Steve suddenly stirs, groaning and sitting up a little in bed. He props himself up on his elbows and Eddie freezes, whipping his head up so he’s looking at the ceiling.
“You stayed.” Steve’s voice is rough with sleep. It makes Eddie’s head feel funny.
“You asked me to,” He says gruffly, sitting up and stretching. He doesn’t need to, not really, but figures it adds to the illusion that he hasn’t been awake for half an hour, watching Steve sleep like a fucking weirdo.
“I honestly thought you’d bolt,” Steve says, chuckling lightly. Eddie tries not to let that rankle because, frankly, he deserves it. Plus, somehow he knows Steve doesn't mean it in an unkind way.
“Not after everything you’ve done for me,” Eddie says, staring down at his hands. He can feel Steve looking at him.
“Thanks for being there for me,” Steve says softly, reaching out to rest a hand on Eddie’s knee.
“No problem,” Eddie croaks, jerking his leg away and stumbling out of the bed. Steve doesn’t seem to think it’s a weird reaction or maybe he’s just being nice and trying not to embarrass Eddie, but all he does is pull his hand back and slide it through his hair.
“Ugh,” He says, frowning. “I need a shower.”
“Yeah you stink,” Eddie lies, but it makes Steve laugh.
“I’ll jump through and then make us some breakfast?”
Eddie wants to ask how long they’re gonna stay here playing house, if Steve has work today, when the hell he makes time to see his friends, but he finds that he doesn’t want to know. They’ve created this safe little bubble, and he doesn’t want to pop it, not yet.
“I know my clothes aren’t as cool as yours but it won’t kill you to wear them,” Steve says, grinning as he throws the covers back and rubs at his eyes. His shorts have ridden up, giving Eddie a glimpse of hairy thighs, but he’s not looking.
“Gotta keep up my street cred somehow,” Eddie says, reaching up to scratch at the back of his neck. “Even if no one sees me in your preppy rich boy clothes, I’ll still know.”
Steve smiles again, and Eddie decides he’s gonna make it his life’s mission to see that smile as much as humanly possible. Smiling Steve is good. Screaming, terrified Steve - not good.
“I dunno, I think you could do to switch it up. You don’t wear enough yellow, if you ask me.”
There’s some sort of comeback there but the wink Steve flashes him makes Eddie choke on his own tongue.
➳
“Since when can you cook?”
Eddie’s sitting on the kitchen counter, tapping his fingers against his knees as he watches Steve hustle around the kitchen. He pauses at the question, tilting his head to the side.
“Pretty recently, I guess. I needed…something to do and I just learned a few recipes from one of my mom’s cookbooks.” He grins. “And eggs and toast isn’t exactly gourmet, Eddie.”
“It is to me,” Eddie says with a shrug. Then he realizes how sad that statement is, cheeks burning. Steve doesn’t seem to notice.
“Then…bon appétit,” He says, presenting Eddie his plate with a flourish. “Wanna eat by the pool?”
“Um. Sure,” Eddie says, taking the plate and being careful to not let their fingers brush.
It’s pleasantly cool outside, not too sunny yet. There are a couple chairs out by the pool, and a little table that Steve pulls between them, setting down two glasses of orange juice. It really is a simple meal but to Eddie it’s everything.
“You had a lotta parties here, Harrington?” He asks when they’ve both finished about half their plates. It doesn’t escape his notice that Steve is watching him closely, as if to make sure he eats enough. It shouldn’t make him feel so… warm, but it does.
Steve shrugs, taking a sip of orange juice and balancing the glass on one knee. “I guess? Not really. My parents don’t really like that type of thing. I’m more of a partygoer.”
“So I’ve heard,” Eddie says, through of mouthful of eggs. Steve sets his glass down on the table, leaning forward with his fingers steepled in front of his chin.
“What else have you heard?” He asks, with a devious little smile. Eddie quirks a brow. He’s definitely up for this challenge.
“About the great King Steve?” He says, spreading his arms wide. “Oh, many a tale has been told throughout the kingdom.” Steve lifts a brow.
“Such as?”
Eddie taps his fingers on his chin. “You get lots of girls.”
“Too obvious.”
“You cheat on tests.”
“Weak.”
“You used to make out with Robin in the freezer at Scoops Ahoy.”
“Now we’re talking!”
Steve leans back in his chair, now sporting a smile that’s a little secretive and a lot intriguing. Eddie leans forward, squinting.
“Is it true?” He asks. “You and Buckley get busy in the ice cream store?”
The idea doesn’t bother him, not really, but it just doesn’t fit somehow. Steve and Robin have always just seemed like close friends, from Eddie’s perspective. Although really he’s only seen them together while ripping monsters apart, so what the fuck does he know?
“I’ll never tell,” Steve says, wiggling his eyebrows. Then his face gets serious, and he tilts his head back, gazing upwards. “No, we…Robin’s just a friend. A good friend.” He blinks, brings a hand to his side. “My best friend.”
The way he says it, it’s as if it’s the first time he’s realizing it. A tiny flare of jealousy whizzes across Eddie’s mind and he slumps back in his own chair, frowning a little. He’s glad Steve’s got Robin, really.
“Does it ever get better?”
Eddie looks up at Steve, surprised the question came out of him. Steve frowns slightly.
“What do you mean?”
“I…” He probably shouldn’t be bringing it up. “The…the nightmares. I…it seems like they just. Don’t go away.”
Steve looks thoughtful now. He goes silent, reaching for his juice and taking a small sip.
“It’s…complicated.”
Eddie’s stomach lurches.
“It’s not - they haven’t gone away for me, obviously. But it’s…you learn how to deal with it.”
Eddie nods, no longer hungry.
“I’m sorry,” He says suddenly. Steve turns to face him, brows raised.
“For what?”
“For acting like I’m the only one struggling.” Eddie sighs, setting his plate down on the table between them. “I know it’s stupid, I just…whenever I see you guys, you all seem…you seem okay. And I know it’s not fair to make assumptions but I just…I really thought I was the only one all fucked up over this.”
“I get it,” Steve says, nodding. His hair’s a little flat without product but the sun’s shining on him, a soft glow that brings out the green in his eyes and the slight flush in his cheeks. His baby blue t-shirt looks nice against his lightly tanned skin, and suddenly Eddie’s head feels funny again. Only this time the feeling extends down to his chest, where it feels like his heart is being prodded by a branding iron.
“It’s not stupid,” Steve goes on, and Eddie blinks, snapped back into the conversation. “I mean I’m not gonna lie, we are used to it. It’s…it’s not that it’s less scary to us - well, I guess I can only speak for myself. But yeah, this is, what, the fourth time we’ve had to deal with this shit? It doesn’t get easier but I can’t deny you build up some sort of…I dunno. Thicker skin, I guess.”
“So I just gotta fight three more bad guys and I’ll be as badass as you,” Eddie says, nodding. “Great. Perfect.”
Steve chuckles, slapping his hands against his knees and getting to his feet.
“If I didn’t know any better I’d say that was a compliment,” He says, scooping up the dishes and gesturing towards the house. Eddie watches for a second before standing up, ignoring the way his cheeks warm up.
“Don’t get used to it,” He grumbles.
➳
In the clear light of day, Eddie realizes he has no idea what to do with himself. He jumps back up on the counter while Steve cleans up, sticking his thumb between his teeth and chewing at his cuticle. He knows he should ask what the plan is, maybe ask how Robin is, how Dustin and the kids are doing, but every time he tries, his throat closes up. And then he’s struck by the realization that Steve and him don’t really have much in common. What the hell are they gonna talk about all day?
The phone rings suddenly and Eddie lets out a ridiculously dramatic gasp, nearly toppling over onto the floor. Steve shuts off the water and makes sure Eddie’s all right before he walks over and picks the phone up, smiling reassuringly while Eddie rights himself.
“Hello? Hey Robbie! Yeah. Um, yeah. It did. No, I…oh. Well can’t - okay, geez. I get it. I told you I’d call you later today, didn’t I? Yeah, all right. No. I don’t want - oh.” He goes quiet for a few long seconds and Eddie’s stomach starts doing backflips and somersaults. “I don’t think that’s a good idea yet. Can you deal with it? Pretty please, Robs?” More silence. “That’s the worst fucking idea you’ve ever had.” Silence. “We already talked about this, I can’t believe you’re backing out - okay!”
Eddie hadn’t realized how much of his anxiety had gone away until it comes roaring back full force, nearly bringing him to his knees. Steve sighs in a resigned way before hanging up the phone, chewing a little on his bottom lip before fixing Eddie with what looks like an apologetic smile.
“Eddie,” He says, like Eddie’s a wild animal he’s trying to calm down. As if that’s an encouraging way to start a sentence. God, it's fucking hot in here all of a sudden. “I kinda have to go into work today.”
Eddie shocks himself by nodding calmly, even though he wants to throw up and start blubbering like a baby. Maybe throw something. Go slash Steve’s tires so he can't leave. Calm down, freak. “I figured.”
“I wasn’t supposed to,” Steve explains, leaning against the wall and looking oddly upset. “I had talked to Robin and asked her to cover me for a couple days, but I guess it’s pretty busy right now and - I’m really sorry.”
The implication of his words sinks in, and Eddie starts filling in Robin’s end of the conversation. Had Steve told her he needed a few days off to babysit Eddie? Had she asked about him? That’s so - it’s fucking embarrassing, jesus. Like he’s a toddler who needs constant supervision. Additionally, how fucking busy can a video rental store get?
Great. There’s the anger again.
“I don’t need you to babysit me,” Eddie snaps. It makes it worse that Steve just looks at him, like he’d expected this.
“I didn’t say that,” He says softly. “But it’s okay if you don’t wanna be alone.”
“I thought I was always alone,” Eddie mumbles, kicking off the counter and trying to push past Steve. Tries, because suddenly there’s a hand on his arm, holding him in place. And Eddie doesn’t try to fight it, because this is -
This is what you wanted, isn’t it?
Ohh, shut up brain. Shut up, shut the fuck up.
“Don’t do that,” Steve says, voice low. “Cmon. It’s just a few hours.” Eddie half-heartedly tries to pull his arm away, and Steve huffs and pulls him closer. Eddie’s got his back to him but he swears he can feel Steve’s gaze on the back of his head, searing into him. And then, in a low voice that sends a horrible, gooey warmth sliding down Eddie’s spine, “I’ll miss you too, you know.”
Eddie’s brain short circuits, warning bells going off as he jerks forward and finally frees himself from Steve’s grasp. When he turns around, Steve’s looking at him with wide eyes, lips parted. Expectant.
You’re kinda pretty.
It takes a second for Eddie to realize he’s not breathing properly. He reaches up and thumps on his sternum to calm his beating heart and get his breathing regulated, as if that’s how any of that works.
“Do you wanna come with me?”
Eddie wishes he’d never gone to the park.
He wants to sink to the floor and cry because Steve is a nice guy. He’s so fucking kind, it makes Eddie sick. Yes, he wants to say. Please take me with you, I don’t wanna be in this big fucking house all alone. He’s not brave, he’s selfish and scared and Steve’s gaze is warming him like a plate of soft, freshly baked cookies. And Eddie can’t start depending on a guy like this, he just can’t.
“I don’t think - ”
“Eddie,” Steve interrupts, and for the first time he sounds genuinely annoyed. “Look. I’m not going anywhere. You can keep arguing with me and lashing out and whatever else you wanna do, but I told you I’m here for you and I meant it. I’m not lying when I offer these things, I’m not playing games or making fun of you. I don’t care if you don’t believe me, but just - just let me be nice to you. For fuck’s sake. If you haven’t figured it out, I need this just as much as you do. So tell yourself whatever the fuck you need to tell yourself in order to accept the god damn help. All right?”
“Okay,” Eddie says, too shocked to say anything else. “Geez - okay, man.”
Steve shakes his head, looking exasperated but in a fond way. “Thank you.”
“But seriously, I can’t just go to work with you,” Eddie protests. “Won’t you get in trouble?”
Steve shrugs. “Probably not. You can just hang out behind the counter.”
“People still hate me,” Eddie tries. “I don’t wanna cause problems for you.”
Steve frowns, like he hadn’t thought of that. “If you really don’t feel comfortable coming along, I understand. But I’m telling you, it’ll be fine. If anything, you can hang out in the back or something.”
He’ll never admit it but Eddie’s pretty sure Steve could talk him into doing anything at this point.
“Or,” Steve says, a stupid little grin curving his lips. “You can stay here. I can call every fifteen minutes to check in, see if you’re okay - ”
“All right!” Eddie says loudly, rubbing his hands over his face. “All right. I’ll come to your stupid job with you. Jesus.”
Steve grins and lurches forward, throwing his arms around Eddie’s shoulders and clapping him on the back. It’s weird, it’s fucking weird. Are they hugging now? Is this something they do?
“Paws off, freak,” Eddie yells, shrugging out of Steve’s arms. The smile he receives in response is like a fucking gut punch.
➳
On the drive over, Eddie’s positive he’s going to throw up. Maybe that would be the final straw for Steve - after his big speech this morning, Eddie’s vomit on the interior of his car ruining this thing they have going. And he’s really not sure what he’s so fucking keyed up about, except -
Except he knows exactly what’s got him so scared.
He hasn’t been around people in - almost a month, now. Which doesn’t sound that long, but even after only a couple days with Steve, he’s used to him. Is starting to figure out how to be around him, but Robin is a wildcard. Customers, strangers, who probably still want his head on a stick - wildcard. No fucking clue how to be around people anymore, and Robin is prone to oversharing and asking too many questions and Eddie’s not really sure he’s got the energy for it, physically or mentally. He doesn’t realize how tensed up he is until Steve’s voice floats up between them.
“It’s gonna be fine.”
Yet again, Steve’s voice pulls him out of the fog.
Eddie turns to face him, eyes wide and unblinking. “Yeah?” He says weakly. Steve nods.
“I promise.”
“You can’t promise that,” Eddie grumbles, and Steve just laughs. Somehow it’s not reassuring.
“Maybe not, but if anything does happen - ” You mean if a gang of purist basketball players comes in with pitchforks demanding my blood? “ - you’ve got me. And Robin.”
Eddie decides not to comment on how very not reassuring that is.
“Look, it’s just four hours. And then we can go home. Okay?”
Home, Eddie’s brain repeats stupidly as Steve pulls into the parking lot of the Family Video. Home.
As usual, Steve doesn’t seem to notice the short circuiting going on in Eddie’s head. He just shuts off the car and reaches out to pat Eddie on the knee. He’s really got to stop with all the touching.
“Cmon, just pretend you’re in a game of DnD,” Steve says, trying to be helpful. Eddie heaves a long-suffering sigh, undoing his seatbelt and forcing himself out of the car.
“That’s not really how any of that works,” He grumbles, rolling his eyes when Steve grins. “But A for effort, I guess.”
When they walk into the store, Eddie realizes that Robin is a dirty liar.
“There is no one here,” He hisses, reaching out without thinking to grab a fistful of Steve’s shirt. He receives a raised brow and a glance down at his hand, and quickly lets go. “What the fuck!”
“Steve!” Robin exclaims, popping up from behind the counter. Eddie watches as Steve practically skips over to her, reaching out to pinch her on the cheek. She wrinkles her nose and backs away and Steve grins, blowing her a kiss. Robin sticks her tongue out and Eddie shrinks in on himself, feeling like he’s intruding on a private moment.
And then Steve disappears into the back and Robin turns to Eddie, smiling brightly.
“It’s good to see you!” She says, much too cheerfully. Eddie tries to fix his fucking face because as annoyed as he is, he’s got a feeling that hurting Robin’s feelings would make him feel even worse. And honestly? It is kinda good to see her. Damn Steve to hell.
“You too,” He mumbles, rubbing at his arm and glancing around. There’s a bell above the door so he’ll be able to hear if anyone comes in, but still. He can’t help but be nervous.
Okay, so he’s terrified. He’s got the right.
Luckily Steve comes back out a few moments later, vest over his shirt. He lifts a hand and gestures for Eddie to come around the counter, pointing to a metal chair.
“Sit,” He instructs. And once again, Eddie’s so shocked he just…does it.
“Wow, you’ve got him trained well,” Robin teases, and Eddie wants to be annoyed but she’s right, and it’s fucking weird. Steve rolls his eyes, leaning against the counter.
“You don’t get to give me shit,” He says, pointing an accusing finger at her. “Lying is a sin, you know.”
“Then I’ll see you in hell,” She shoots back, but it sounds more like banter than an accusation. Steve narrows his eyes at her and Eddie tries to understand whatever silent conversation they’re having. “I missed you, is that a crime?”
“You’re full of it,” Steve responds, rolling his eyes again. “You were just bored.”
“Is that a crime?” Robin wiggles her eyebrows.
“I told you I was gonna be busy - ”
“Oh but I was really missing your handsome face, Stevie - ”
“Are you guys like this all the time?” Eddie interrupts. They both look at him as if just now realizing he’s there, then they glance back each other and grin.
“Isn’t this more entertaining than sitting on Steve’s couch by yourself?” Robin asks innocently. Eddie levels a glare at Steve, who suddenly seems to find his own nail-beds very interesting.
“No please,” He says, and part of him thinks it’s nice, it’s really nice to have someone else to bicker with. “Glad to know you two sat around talking about me like a child of divorce, trying to decide where to pawn me off - ”
“Hey,” Steve says sharply, eyes narrowed. Eddie flips him the bird.
“Yeah yeah, be nice to me, blah blah.” Steve cracks a smile and Eddie leans back in the chair, folding his arms across his chest.
The shift actually goes by surprisingly quickly, and Eddie has to admit it’s nice to see Steve and Robin together. Maybe he’s been feeling a little selfish and a lot insecure, but Steve laughs a lot with Robin, and she responds the same. It seems so easy with them. Eddie’s surprised to find it’s nice to see Steve smiling so much, having such a good time with someone who clearly cares about him. He tunes them out eventually, letting himself relax a little when he realizes no one is coming to get him.
When Steve asks Robin if she wants to join them for dinner Eddie tenses, but the offer is declined. Maybe some other time, she says, with a meaningful look that Eddie pretends he doesn’t see or understand. Steve rolls his eyes and ruffles her hair before he heads out, tugging at a piece of Eddie’s hair as they head toward the door - and when did he start doing that in front of people?
“Robin’s cool,” Eddie says on the drive (home) back to Steve’s place. Steve smiles sweetly, which. Gross.
“She really is,” He agrees, nodding. “And that wasn’t so bad, was it?”
“Fuck off,” Eddie grumbles, folding his arms and turning to look out the window.
They have spaghetti for dinner.
Steve makes sauce from scratch (“It’s literally canned,” He protests when Eddie tries to be impressed. But he chops up some garlic and onion and adds that to the canned sauce, along with a bunch of spices and some freshly chopped basil. It’s from scratch as far as Eddie is concerned) and it’s fucking delicious. They eat by the pool again, and Steve pours them both a glass of Coke before bringing it outside. It’s still mortifying that Eddie can’t open a can of soda without having a meltdown, but he’s grateful Steve takes that extra step, just to make him comfortable.
He’s feeling pretty okay by the time they go inside, and this time he helps Steve do the dishes. It feels nice to contribute, even if it’s something that small. When it starts to get kind of late, Eddie realizes he should probably take a shower and change his clothes. Steve shows him where the shampoo and everything is (not that Eddie couldn’t have found it on his own, but he supposes it’s still nice of him) and leaves him to take care of things.
When he feels clean enough, Eddie steps back into the guest room with a towel wrapped around his waist and starts sorting through the pile of clothes Steve left on the dresser yesterday. He tries to convince himself he’s just flushed from the shower, but as he picks up a pair of boxers Eddie feels his face heat up. For some reason, he’d assumed Steve would wear briefs.
“Cmon Munson, get a grip,” He snaps, dropping his towel and stumbling into the boxers before yanking a pair of sweats up over his legs and tugging on a t-shirt. Making a mental note to ask Steve if he can use the washing machine, Eddie takes his dirty, discarded clothing and folds it up nicely, setting it on the floor by the dresser.
And now he has no idea what to do.
Is he supposed to go say good night? Is Steve gonna come back and say good night? They never really addressed the whole sleeping in the same bed thing, or the fact that Eddie had finally slept more than five hours uninterrupted, and actually woken up feeling kind of well rested. Was it just because he’d slept next to Steve? That would be fucking insane. What if Steve has another night terror? What if Eddie has one? God, he’s so out of his fucking element. He shouldn’t have gotten so comfortable.
There’s a gentle knock at the door and Eddie jumps, clearing his throat and trying to situate himself naturally on the bed. How do people sit?
“Come in,” He calls out, voice only cracking a little.
The door opens a little and Steve sticks his head in, a goofy smile on his face. Eddie’s pulse doesn’t speed up, it doesn’t. A flip in his chest? Absolutely not.
“All good here?”
“Great,” Eddie says, smiling weakly. “Perfect.”
“Good,” Steve says, shuffling further into the room. “I, uh…well, I wanted to talk to you about something.”
Eddie’s gotta stop forgetting how quickly the panic can come back.
He nods, hoping it’s not obvious he feels like he’s about to vomit. Steve bites his bottom lip and Eddie tracks the movement, ignoring the tightness in his chest. Steve opens his mouth to speak and the phone rings, and Eddie almost falls off the fucking bed. He’s gotta get a grip.
“Sorry,” Steve says, deflating a little. “Be right back.”
He disappears and Eddie resists the urge to walk over to the wall and press his ear against it. Eavesdropping - bad.
But Steve’s only gone for a few seconds before he comes back, an apologetic smile on his face. “It was just Robin saying good night.”
“How is mom?” Eddie says, and it’s a stupid joke but Steve laughs anyway.
“She’s good. She wants to hang out sometime soon, if you’re up for that?”
“Is that what you wanted to talk to me about?” Eddie asks, instead of answering the question. Suddenly Steve is nervous again.
“Oh. Right. Um, no, I...look, I don’t wanna make you uncomfortable, okay? Ever.”
“Not a great lead,” Eddie says, trying to sound breezy when he feels anything but. Oh god, had he been caught this morning? Has Steve been waiting all day to tell him what a freak he is, how he doesn’t want him staying in his house anymore?? That’s what Eddie gets for being a fucking -
“Whatever you’re thinking, get a grip.” Steve cuts into his little panic spiral with a sigh that seems kind of amused. “You didn’t do anything wrong. Okay?”
“O-kay,” Eddie says slowly. A tiny bit of tension seeps from his shoulders. Steve takes a deep breath, reaching up to rub at the back of his neck. Eddie’s eyes widen, waiting for the wincing and groaning in pain, but Steve seems fine. He just won’t say anything.
“Can you spit it out!” Eddie finally barks, closing his eyes. When he opens them Steve is standing there like a deer in the headlights, and for some reason it makes Eddie feel a little better. Like he’s still got it. Got what? No fucking clue. But got it, he does.
“I was just - I wanted to ask, if…Jesus. Look, I was just wondering if you’d…if you’d stay with me until I fell asleep. It was - I think it helped. Last night. So I…just thought I’d ask.”
For some reason, the only thing Eddie can fixate on is that Steve feels safe enough with him to ask for this. It’s obvious he’s scared, and this took a lot for him to ask, and Eddie should probably be giving an answer (the answer is yes, of course it is, it’s fucking yes, yes ) but there’s a weird, warm weight in his chest and it just keeps getting heavier the longer he looks at Steve, at his scared, vulnerable eyes.
“Of course,” Eddie says softly, yet with much far too much intensity. It doesn’t seem to make Steve feel any better.
“Are you sure?” He asks, looking more nervous than he has since Eddie’s known him. “You don't have to, just cause - ”
“Harrington,” Eddie says, raising his eyebrows. “Let me be nice to you.”
Steve’s mouth snaps closed as his words are parroted back at him, cheeks flushing a deep red. Eddie grins.
This time Steve says they can keep the lights off before he climbs into bed, throwing the covers back and sitting up against the headboard. Eddie watches, nibbling at his bottom lip before leaning over to flick on the lamp on the bedside table. Steve’s eyes widen a little before he seems to relax, slumping back against the headboard and reaching up to rub at his nose with the back of his hand. Eddie thinks he might look grateful.
“Thanks for this,” Steve mumbles, as Eddie clambers onto the bed next to him. It’s a king so there’s plenty of room for both of them, and Steve seems to be taking advantage of that; there’s gotta be a foot and a half of room between them. It’s kinda funny, if Eddie’s being honest - how timid Steve suddenly is, now that he’s the one who needs comforting.
“This has been your plan the whole time, huh Harrington?” Eddie says, wiggling his eyebrows. It’s an obvious joke but he has a feeling Steve needs levity right now. Either that, or he’s about to get himself punched. “All this, just to get me into bed.”
“If I wanted to get you into bed, Munson,” Steve says, snorting, “I wouldn’t need to resort to trickery.”
And what. The fuck. Does that mean?
“Yeah whatever,” Eddie mumbles, shoving Steve lightly as he starts snickering. “I can leave, you know.”
“Oh I think you’d miss me too much,” Steve says, grinning. He seems a lot more relaxed now, leaning slightly closer into the space between them.
“The second you’re out, I’m gone,” Eddie threatens. “Gonna hotwire your car back to my - humble abode.” He stumbles over the last two words, a familiar heaviness settling in his chest. Fuck. He’d really gone almost a full day without thinking about Chrissy.
Weirdly, it makes him feel guilty.
Steve’s lamp isn’t as bright as the overhead, but it still makes it easy to see everything in the room. Eddie frowns as he looks around, realizing that the room they’re in is really similar to the guest room. He hadn’t really gotten a good look this morning, too preoccupied with the fact he’d spent the night in bed with Steve Harrington. The room doesn’t have a lot of personal touches, and the color scheme is decidedly…feminine. And kind of…gaudy. Old?
“This is really what Steve Harrington’s room looks like?” Eddie says. “I’m surprised.” He looks at Steve, who’s gone silent and contemplative.
“Oh. Yeah, it’s…not technically my room.” He flushes, cheeks dusted a pretty pink. His eyelashes are kinda long, fanned out over his cheeks as he gazes down at his fingers. He’s twisting them together in his lap, and Eddie resists the urge to cover them with his own. “This is, um. Just the second spare bedroom. I moved in here when…just, I moved in here.”
“You don’t like talking about yourself, do you?”
“How’d you know?” Steve says, with a somewhat watery smile. Eddie’s chest aches.
“You’re always surprising me,” He says softly. Too soft. Steve exhales through his nose, bringing his knees up to his chin and wrapping his arm around his shins. His chin rests on his knees, eyes half-lidded.
“I’m scared to go home,” Eddie suddenly says, for no fucking reason. He stares down at the sheets, tracing little patterns with his fingers. “It sucks being there in general, but it’s like…it’s like her fucking ghost is there, man.”
“I’m really sorry,” He hears Steve say. His voice is impossibly gentle, absolutely dripping with sympathy, but surprisingly not in a way that makes Eddie want to throw something. “Eddie, I…I never got the chance to say…I mean, just. I’m really sorry you had to see that.”
“You’ve seen much worse,” Eddie says, terrified to look over and see what expression is on Steve’s face. He can’t fucking breathe.
“It’s not a competition,” Steve says firmly. And there’s that thrill again, dancing up and down Eddie’s spine. “What you saw - you shouldn’t have had to. None of us should have to see this shit. And you’re not - you’re brave, Eddie. You’re fucking brave and don’t ever let anyone tell you otherwise, okay?”
Maybe Steve can sense the way Eddie’s about to vibrate out of his skin, how he wants to bolt and run until his feet are raw and his lungs burn, because the next thing he knows there’s a warm hand covering his. He hadn’t even realized his hands were trembling until they’re under Steve’s, pressed into the mattress, holding him there, tethering him to the very earth.
“I’m not brave,” Eddie whispers. Oh god, he’s going to cry. Steve’s the one who asked him to be here for support, for comfort, and Eddie’s the one about to have a meltdown. Of course he’s not brave. He’s never been brave. He’s not equipped for this, to fight monsters and be there for people. Eddie’s got no fucking clue what he’s doing, and he knows Steve’s going to realize it and kick him to the curb.
Blinking back tears, Eddie lifts his head to look at Steve - and he was right. He has no fucking clue what to do with the look on Steve’s face, a stormy intensity that knocks the fucking wind out of him. And then Steve’s thumb moves slowly over the back of Eddie’s knuckles and he’s got a fucking swarm of butterflies knocking around in his belly, petals blooming in his chest, sparks dancing along every inch of his skin.
No. God, no. Please no, not this. Not with Steve.
Who the hell else, then?
The thing is, he’s never felt anything like this before. It’s obvious what it is, but Eddie’s never really allowed himself to entertain the possibility of feeling anything like this, and especially not with a guy like Steve fucking Harrington. Eddie knows who he is, what he likes, and he knows who Steve is and what Steve likes - and their interest do not align. That much he knows, but it’s not enough to stop the shiver that runs down his spine as Steve keeps stroking the back of his hand, not enough to stop Eddie’s mouth from going dry as he glances down at Steve’s lips.
I’m screwed. I’m screwed, I’m so fucking screwed.
He doesn’t know what to do.
Distantly, he thinks of his joint. He’s never wanted to smoke more than he does in this moment, to take a long, deep hit and lay back against the pillows, letting fog take over his brain.
“You still with me?”
Eddie blinks, gaze locked onto their joined hands. Steve’s thumb is still stroking, and stroking, and it shouldn’t feel so good but Eddie kind of wants to cry with how fucking good it feels. There’s rustling next to him and then Steve is sitting way too close, close enough for their knees to be touching. It sends an electric shock through Eddie’s body but he doesn’t react this time, just stares down at their hands until his eyes start to hurt from how widely they’re opened.
“Hey.”
He can’t look up. He shouldn’t look up because Steve’s voice is way too fucking close, and Eddie’s not ready to look back into his eyes. It’s suffocating, how much he wants to look and how much he knows he cant.
“Eddie.”
Steve’s voice is firm. Laced with something Eddie can’t quite place but desperately wants to understand, so maybe that’s why he finally drags his gaze upward, meeting his eyes.
They’re both frozen in place.
Eddie doesn’t dare to move, breathe, think, as Steve’s other hand comes up to tug at one of the curls hanging in front of his face before he tucks it behind his ear. A sickeningly hot tremor runs through Eddie’s body at the contact, and the way Steve’s lips are curled up in a secretive little smile.
“I lied before,” He says softly, and that finally snaps Eddie out of whatever trance he was just in.
He licks his lips, and Steve’s eyes fucking track the movement. “About what?” He asks, voice hoarse. Steve just looks at him, and Eddie’s brain goes completely blank as he takes the hand near his head and brings it a little lower, tugging at Eddie’s bottom lip with his thumb.
“You’re really pretty.”
“S - Steve,” Eddie whispers. His lip is positively searing where Steve’s just touched it. “What are you - ”
“Sorry,” Steve says, smiling apologetically and dropping his hand. He takes the other one away too, and Eddie wants to scream at him to put it back.
“S’fine,” He mumbles instead, licking his lips again and ignoring the part of his brain that wonders if he’ll be able to taste Steve on them.
Are they really not gonna talk about whatever the fuck just happened?
Steve scoots away from him a little, laying down and snuggling against his pillow.
Apparently not.
“You’re fucking weird,” Eddie says, and it comes out all wrong and way too harsh, but Steve just smiles up at him, hands tucked under his cheek.
What a week.
“You don’t put anything in your hair, do you?” Steve asks with a wistful sigh. Eddie blinks.
“Um. No?”
“I knew it,” Steve says, and he actually pouts. Eddie wonders if he’s gonna try and touch his hair again. He wouldn’t mind.
“Tryna steal all my secrets?” Eddie says, sliding down the mattress and resting his head on the pillow. It’s too intimate like this, laying down and facing each other. He should turn around, put some more distance between them, but he’s selfish, and this feels too nice. Steve keeps looking at him, but it doesn’t make Eddie feel like he’s under observation, or anything. Steve’s just…looking.
“You’re kinda pretty too,” Eddie blurts, heat licking across his entire body as a wicked grin splits across Steve’s face. Oh god. Jesus, he’s a fucking idiot. Why did he say that?
“Only kinda?” Steve teases. “If you’re gonna steal my lines you could at least go all the way.”
“Oh, so you wanna go all the way with me,” Eddie says, nodding. What a ridiculous conversation. He can’t stop smiling.
“Keep running your mouth, Eds,” Steve says. The nickname settles in Eddie’s chest, warm and bright. “See what happens.”
All right. That was a little too close to flirting. Maybe they’ve had enough for the night.
Eddie shakes his head, reaching out to shove at Steve’s shoulder before turning over.
“Go to sleep, Harrington.”
Steve’s voice is petulant. “You first.”
➳
Eddie wakes up before sunrise.
As he tries to glance over at the clock he realizes there’s a warm weight on his chest, and he reaches up to rub at his eyes, lifting his head just a little to see Steve’s mop of hair strewn over his chest.
Holy shit.
Steve’s a fucking furnace, draped over Eddie like it’s no big deal, like it’s normal, like this is something they do every day. And he smells…warm, like sleep, and clean, and a little like cologne. His breathing is steady, arm thrown over Eddie’s torso with his fucking fingertips pressing into his side. And Eddie’s not fully awake yet, a little too sleepy to try and fight how nice it feels to have a warm body next to his. But it’s not just that. It’s Steve. It wouldn’t feel as good if it were anyone else, and god is that a fucking kick to the head.
He cranes his neck, seeing that it’s a little after six in the morning. God, he hasn’t slept that long since before all the Upside Down shit happened. And if it’s just because of Steve…what happens when he has to leave?
Don’t think about it. Not right now. Not yet.
There’s no way he’s gonna be able to get back to sleep now. Steve’s just so warm and heavy against him.
You don’t actually like him, he tries to reason. He’s just been really nice to you, and he’s handsome and you’ve grown attached to him quickly. If it was Robin who’d invited you to stay, you’d be feeling the same, thing.
But he knows it’s a lie.
“Eddie,” Steve suddenly mumbles. His voice is a low rumble against Eddie’s chest, sending a shiver through him. “Go back to sleep.”
Steve’s awake. Steve is awake, and he’s cuddling Eddie, and he’s not screaming or shoving him away. Right. He can do this. He can deal with this. He can -
“Eddie,” Steve repeats. “Stop thinking. Go to sleep.”
“Yeah okay,” Eddie murmurs. “Sure, yeah.”
“You can freak out later,” Steve groans, and actually nestles further into Eddie’s body. “Please, I’m so tired.”
Eddie’s almost positive he's gonna say something completely stupid if he opens his mouth, so he closes his eyes and raises an arm tentatively, resting it gently around Steve’s shoulders.
He’s so screwed.
➳
Somehow it’s worse when he wakes up again.
Steve is still wrapped around him but his leg is now thrown over Eddie's thighs, knee pressing up against his -
Too much. Instantly too much.
“Steve,” Eddie says loudly, trying to extract his arm. “Steve, wake up.”
He almost feels bad when Steve lets out a sleepy little whine, pulling away and propping himself up on his elbows. God, he's so fucking cute -
“What the hell?” Steve grumbles, rubbing at his eyes.
“I - I have to pee,” Eddie says lamely, but it seems to do the trick because Steve just grunts and rolls onto his other side, knees pulled up to his chest as he cuddles his pillow.
And no Eddie is not jealous of a pillow, thanks for asking.
He slinks down the hall back to his room (it’s not yours, freak, you don’t actually live here) and sits on the edge of the tub, holding his face in his hands.
Despite what lots of people in town say about him, Eddie’s just a normal guy. He’s got the same urges as anyone else, same bodily reactions and functions, and yeah, he’s jerked off a few times in his day. It’s not any type of big production, just something he does sometimes when it feels like he has no other choice. Being a gay guy in a town like Hawkins doesn’t really leave him with a lot of options, sex-wise, and Eddie likes to think himself smart enough not to get caught up in any trouble, coming on to the wrong guy and getting the shit kicked out of him.
Or worse.
The point is, Eddie hasn’t felt anything like this in a long, long time. Okay, ever. And he may overindulge on some things but for the most part he’s got pretty good self control and he’s pretty good at not letting himself get affected by shit like this. And it doesn't hurt that any guy he could have been attracted to over the past few years is a grade A asshole.
And now here’s Steve.
It would be easier, he thinks, if Steve were a bad guy. But it’s been established he’s not, and now Eddie’s got a crush on his only friend. How could he not see this coming? He almost wishes Steve wouldn’t be so touchy, so sweet, so…flirty. But it’s not flirting, Eddie tries to remind himself. It’s just…Steve. That’s just the kind of guy he is.
Thankfully all the self reflection seems to have killed his boner, so Eddie splashes some water on his face and shakes himself, giving a few sharp slaps to his cheeks before squaring his shoulders and marching back to Steve’s room.
All the bravado and bluster drains right out of him when he sees Steve sitting up in bed, rubbing at his eyes and yawning, hair a downright disaster. He looks sleepy and soft, face squishy with sleep. It’s fucking devastating.
So, so screwed.
“Come on Harrington,” Eddie says gruffly. Steve looks at him blearily, brows raised. “You’re gonna teach me how to make eggs.”
“You don’t know how to cook eggs?” Steve mumbles, throwing back the covers and sliding out of bed. Eddie makes the mistake of looking down - not on purpose, he’s not a perv, but he can’t help giving Steve an appreciate once-over. So sue him. Only his eyes get fucking glued to Steve’s shorts, where he’s sporting an insane hard-on that he doesn’t seem to be aware of. How, Eddie’s got no idea - or maybe he’s just being polite? Either way, Eddie’s hot under the fucking collar. God, Steve can’t be this clueless, can he?
“Not as good as yours,” Eddie says, hoping his face isn’t as red as it feels. Steve gives him a sleepy smile.
“Sure, lemme just…” He gestures toward the bathroom. “I’ll meet you down there.”
➳
As Eddie hops up on the kitchen counter he nibbles at his thumbnail, gripping the edge of the countertop with his other hand. Fucking white knuckling it, sitting there wondering if Steve is upstairs jerking off. He needs to curb this, and quickly, because he’s starting to feel like a freak for real. It’s not fair to Steve, to be getting all hot and bothered like this. It’s gross.
I wonder what his dick looks like.
“Ready to become a gourmet chef?”
Steve’s voice pulls Eddie out of his little reverie and he jumps, smacking the back of his head on the kitchen cabinets. There’s no way Steve had heard what he’d been thinking but he’s got a knowing smile pulling at his lips as he takes a bag of frozen vegetables from the freezer and offers it to Eddie.
“I’m fine,” Eddie grumbles, but takes it anyway, pressing it to the back of his head.
“Course you are,” Steve says, seemingly much more awake than he’d been ten minutes ago. There’s a flush to his cheeks and he’s -
He’s changed his shorts.
There’s no way Eddie’s not blushing like a fucking idiot but as usual, Steve either doesn’t notice or chooses to ignore it. Eddie almost wishes he’d call him on it, yell at him so he can snap out of whatever the fuck this is. But he’s got a feeling that even if Steve were to find out about Eddie’s little crush, he would probably be all nice and understanding about it.
It turns out Steve does make his eggs a special way, something about the temperature of the pan and the butter you use and the way you stir, or something - Eddie’s having a hard time paying attention but Steve doesn’t seem to mind, happy to explain every step.
➳
They fall into a routine fairly quickly.
Eddie calls his uncle and lets him know he’ll be staying at Steve’s for a while, and Wayne doesn’t seem to mind. Seems glad, maybe that Eddie’s doing something with himself, even if it’s just mooching off of someone else. Steve takes Eddie back to his trailer one day to pick up some of his own clothes (“As good as you look in mine,” Steve says with a wide grin, and Eddie does not blush) and Eddie does feel a bit better when he grabs some t-shirts, jeans, and a couple jackets. He also grabs the rings he’d set on his bed when he’d taken a shower before leaving for Steve’s house that first time, and it’s silly but he feels a little better when he slips them on his fingers, like he’s more…solid. (If Steve’s eyes linger on Eddie’s hands when he gets back in the car, they both pretend not to notice.)
Two days go by, then four, then it’s been almost two weeks since Eddie came to Steve’s place. Steve’s gotta go back to work sometime, so after Eddie comes along to a couple more shifts, he finally works up the courage to offer to stay at the house alone. He’s tried to start calling it that, the house instead of home , so he doesn’t confuse his brain and yearn for things he can’t have. And it’s not easy, being alone in the house and waiting for Steve to come back, but he manages to survive; distracting himself by watching the few movies available to him, and finding a pen and paper and jotting down a few notes for a future campaign. Now that's he's had some time to think, he’d really like to start playing DnD again. Hopefully the kids aren't too mad at him for his little disappearing act.
Eddie isn’t foolish enough to think he’s okay now, that he’s fixed and he’s never gonna freak out again. The fear is still there, at the back of his mind, never too far away and always easily accessible. But he’s got Steve now, and the more he’s around him, the easier it is to pull himself out of it when the panic comes. Sure he’s woken up screaming a few times, but Steve is always there next to him, ready to talk him down or - hold him until he stops shaking, and Eddie’s done the same for Steve a few times. They never talk about it past cracking a few jokes about how they can’t keep their hands off each other, stupid shit like that. And yeah, maybe Eddie leans into the jokes a little too much, but he’s tired of trying to pretend he doesn’t feel the way he does. And Steve - Steve is the same, still touching, teasing, taking care of Eddie, being sweet, being - being there for him. So Eddie’s indulging in a fantasy, so what?
On the twelfth day at Steve’s house - yes, he’s been counting - Eddie makes lunch. It’s later than usual and it’s a little too warm to be out eating by the pool like they usually do but they go out anyway, two heaping plates of spaghetti and, to Steve’s surprise, two unopened cans of Coke.
Eddie’s grateful Steve doesn’t say anything when Eddie walks out with the sodas and sets them on the table. And yeah, he’s already shaking a little, but it’s fine. He can do this. He knows what a can being opened sounds like, for christ’s sake, and he’s prepared. There’s no way he’s gonna freak out again.
“How’d I do?” He asks, leaning back and watching Steve take a big bite of pasta.
The smile he gets in response is radiant.
Steve’s not even done chewing yet, cheeks pudged out, and he actually raises his arm and pumps his fist in the air, like a fucking idiot. Eddie fights to keep his own smile at half power, lest Steve realize how fucking bad he’s got it.
“Coming for your throne,” Eddie says, reaching for one of the cans of Coke. Steve’s eyes widen as he swallows quickly, leaning forward and reaching a hand out.
“Wait, Eddie, maybe I should - ”
Crack.
It’s not so bad, Eddie thinks, as his fingers tighten around the can. Breathing speeding up - we can handle that. Sweating suddenly, fingers shaking so little drops of soda spring up out of the can - it’s fine. It’s fine. He’s okay, even if he’s frozen in place and can’t look up at Steve, he’s fine because it’s just a soda, it’s just a stupid can of soda.
And then he looks up.
It’s almost like a bad horror film, the way he sees Chrissy’s broken body and bleeding face right behind Steve’s head. And then Eddie’s blinking, the can drops to the ground, and he’s jerking to his feet, stumbling back, and he’s back in his trailer again, watching Chrissy’s body fracture right in front of him -
And then there’s a hard jolt to his side and he’s falling into the pool with a loud, sharp, splash. It’s fucking freezing, and it takes him a few moments to realize that Steve’s fucking pushed him, and what the fuck?
“What the fuck!” Eddie gasps when his head pops above the surface, arms flailing and splashing wildly as he tries to keep himself afloat. Steve’s on his knees, leaning over the edge of the pool with a weirdly surprised look on his face. “What the fuck, Steve!”
“Glad to see it worked,” Steve says, like he’s taking notes on a fucking science experiment.
“WHAT worked!” Eddie bellows, swimming over to the edge of the pool and swiping his drenched hair back from his face. Steve looks down at him with raised brows.
“Well you’re not panicking anymore, are you?” He asks, with a dopey little smile.
“NO, I’m trying to figure out how to murder you so then I can have nightmares about that!” Eddie screams, and it’s a horrible joke, it’s so not funny at all but suddenly he’s laughing harder than he can ever remember laughing in his life. He reaches out a hand to get Steve to pull him up, and thank god for sweet, gullible Steve Harrington because he suspects nothing as he wraps a hand around Eddie’s forearm and is yanked into the water right alongside him.
Steve lets out a shriek of laughter as he flails around, grabbing hold of Eddie and trying to keep himself above water. It’s a spectacle and it’s ridiculous and Eddie can’t stop laughing and it feels good.
“Jesus Harrington you're gonna drown us both!”
They're both letting out peals of laughter as Eddie drags them to the shallow end, Steve still clinging to his side. His stomach hurts from laughing as he tries to fight Steve off, but it's not working because he's not really making that much of an effort. Eddie tries to school his features into some semblance of irritation - he's going for stern maybe, but Steve is still laughing and splashing him, hair plastered to his face, and it's hard to look mad when he's smiling so wide it makes his cheeks ache.
“You look like a drowned rat,” Eddie says, grinning broadly. He pushes at Steve’s shoulders and the other man loses his footing, sliding against the bottom of the pool; his back collides with the wall, knocking a gasp from his throat.
“Isn’t there some sort of contract we gotta sign before you play rough like that?” Steve says breathlessly, shaking his head like a dog and slicking his hair back with his fingers. His t-shirt is clinging to him as well, nipples visible through the fabric; Eddie tries to keep his gaze above the neck but that doesn't help either because Steve looks so handsome like this, dripping with water and practically glowing in the sun. Eddie probably does look like a drowned rat, suddenly self conscious in the face of someone so stupidly good looking.
“Why do you say shit like that?” Eddie asks, instead of keeping the joke going. He’s distantly aware his hands are still pressing Steve into the wall and tries to pull them away, but Steve’s arms dart out, fingers wrapping around Eddie’s wrists. The water comes up to about mid waist on both of them, still sloshing around but starting to settle.
Suddenly nothing is very funny anymore.
They're close enough that Eddie can see each individual water droplet clinging to Steve’s lashes, each one beading on his cheeks, his forehead, sliding down his jaw and his neck. The water isn't cold anymore and Eddie can feel the sun beating down the back of his neck as they stare at each other. Dangerous, a voice whispers in the back of his head. Lean in.
And horrifically, he wants to. He starts to, probably too slowly for Steve to really notice, but Eddie knows what he's doing and he knows he can’t. But would it really be so bad, if he just closed the distance between them and licked the water droplets from Steve’s lower lip? Would he taste like spaghetti still? Would he taste like chlorine?
His heart is beating faster than it ever has during a panic attack or a nightmare, and maybe that's what makes him yank his arms from Steve’s grip and hoist himself up out of the pool. The wind hits him immediately; it's only a slight breeze but it stabs through him, sending a full body shiver through his body. He chances a glance down at Steve, who’s still standing against the edge of the pool, staring straight ahead.
“Hey,” Eddie says nervously, rubbing at the back of his neck. “You all right, Harrington?”
When Steve turns to face him, he's smiling. Maybe it looks a little forced, or maybe Eddie’s reading into it.
It feels different when he comes to Steve’s room tonight. Something is…wrong, maybe. Or it’s just - different. To Eddie, at least. There’s something thrumming under his skin, stopping him from walking in like he normally does. He leans against the doorway, rubbing idly at his forearm. He can hear the sounds of the shower, and considers bolting before Steve comes out.
In the end, he stays.
When Steve does come out of the shower his hair is wet, slicked back from his forehead, and he’s got on some plain grey sweatpants and a yellow t-shirt. Eddie thinks Steve looks best in green, but yellow is a close second.
“Think we should try sleeping alone tonight?” Eddie hears himself ask. He winces as Steve looks up at him, confusion splashed across his face.
“Why?”
“Just - I dunno. Take the training wheels off, maybe.”
Steve has a look that Eddie hates. It’s penetrating and makes Eddie feel like a little kid - like Steve’s just figured something out and accepted it, and is just waiting for Eddie to figure it out too. Only he never does. And he’s got that look on right now, tilting his head to the side as he watches Eddie cowering in the doorway.
“Okay,” Steve says, nodding. “Yeah, that’s probably a good idea.”
Don’t placate me, Eddie thinks.
“Okay,” He says, stupidly. “Good…good night.”
And he keeps standing there.
Steve gives him a wry smile. “You’re welcome back, if you get scared.” It could be taken as a challenge but there’s a slight tremor behind it, something Eddie knows he wouldn't have noticed if he hadn't been spending so much time around Steve lately. Come back, please, he's saying. Or maybe just don't go.
Wishful thinking.
“I won’t,” Eddie huffs, straightening and tossing his hair behind his shoulders. Only that probably just makes him look like a fucking idiot because Steve just laughs and shakes his head, sitting down on the bed.
“You can leave the door open,” He calls out, and Eddie nods and walks down the hall into his room.
He makes a valiant effort.
His body is just so used to sleeping with another person now. It feels awkward, thrashing around trying to get comfortable when it feels like he’s missing something, a part of him. And it’s too cold, without Steve’s body draped all over his. It feels wrong. But he knows he can’t count on Steve forever, can’t keep using him as a crutch.
He’s gotten used to sleeping in the dark, but he usually has Steve next to him, like a forcefield to ward off the bad dreams and the panic. Now, he’s alone. Nausea creeps up in his stomach, a sickening tingle at the base of his spine that’s getting stronger quickly. There are little whimpers coming from his throat that he can’t stop; he grits his teeth, pressing his face into the mattress. There’s no way it’s gotten this bad this quickly. It’s been what, five minutes? Ten? God, it has to have been longer. Static in his head, getting louder and louder.
Eddie knows he should get up and turn on a light but he can't fucking move, feels frozen to the bed as he tries to slow his breathing and pull himself back to the present. What the fuck was he thinking?
He sucks in a breath, picturing Steve’s face - dripping with pool water, laughing as Eddie trips and spills water on his shirt, eyebrows disappearing into his hairline as Eddie sticks his tongue out and makes devil horns with his fingers. Astonishingly, Eddie feels a smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. Steve -
- choking to death, being gutted by demobats, covered in grit and grime and blood, screaming -
“Oh my god - ”
“Eddie!”
- Steve, coming to save the day.
Eddie’s fully crying when Steve climbs into the bed and gathers him into his arms, pulling Eddie half on his lap. Eddie ends up with his face pressed against Steve’s neck, shuddering with these awful, half-aborted sobs as he’s rocked back and forth, Steve’s arms tight and warm around him. He's saying something, probably trying to talk Eddie down, but it's pointless. All he can do is cry and clutch at Steve’s shirt, fingers digging into his back as if to prove to himself that he's here, alive, solid.
“Steve,” Eddie gasps, “The light, Steve - ”
Somehow they stay tangled together as Steve leans over and flicks on the lamp, features thrown into relief as Eddie pulls back a little and stares at him. He looks terrified, lips parted, brow furrowed, chest heaving as Eddie’s fingers roam over his face; thumbs smoothing over his cheeks, fingertips pressing shakily over his eyebrows and down, down to rake over Steve’s jaw and down his neck. His nails leave marks - thin raised, red lines down the sides of Steve’s neck.
“It’s - ”
“Don’t say it's okay,” Eddie whimpers, actually whimpers, surging forward to press his face into Steve’s neck. “It’s not okay, it’s so fucked up, I can’t - I can’t - ”
“Then it's not okay,” Steve says softly. His arms are tight around Eddie’s torso, fingertips pressing into his sides. He feels the weight of Steve’s chin on the top of his head. “It’s not okay at all.”
Eddie’s lips are pressed against Steve’s neck in a bizarre, open-mouthed sort of kiss, breath coming out in damp little puffs.
“It’s not okay but I’m right here,” Steve babbles, fingers digging into Eddie’s sides hard enough to make him wince. “I’m here and you’re here, and it’s not okay - ”
“Shut up Steve,” Eddie mumbles, eyelids suddenly heavy with sleep. “Just shut the hell up, please.”
He can feel Steve nodding against him, squeezing him tighter, like he needs to prove to himself that Eddie’s real too. Eddie’s eyes are closed but he can see Steve’s face in his mind, dripping and sun-kissed as Eddie leans in.
“Steve,” He mumbles, clearly out of his mind. “I was gonna kiss you in the pool today.”
“I know,” Steve says with a shaky laugh. “I was gonna let you.”
Impossibly, Eddie feels exhaustion hit him in a harsh wave, like his batteries are finally fully drained.
“That’s kinda gay,” He murmurs, nuzzling even further into Steve’s neck. He’s warm, smells like body wash and cologne and sweat. It’s overwhelming and so Steve and so fucking good.
“It’s pretty gay,” Steve says, and Eddie wonders if he imagines the soft press of lips to his forehead as he finally lets sleep claim him.
➳
Somehow, Eddie wakes up before Steve and makes it out of the bed and into the shower without waking him. He resists the urge to run the back of his hand across Steve’s cheek, or brush the hair out of his eyes, or, god forbid - kiss him on the forehead.
As he stands under the spray of the shower, he thinks.
I know, Steve had said. I was gonna let you.
It had been stupid to say anything at all, but he’d just been so scared and so tired - not just physically, but mentally. Emotionally. And god, what a corny sentiment - it had just felt nice to be held by Steve like that, and his mouth had gotten ahead of him. He’d felt too safe, if that was even a thing.
I was gonna let you.
Had Steve just said that to be nice? If so, it’s more than a little bit of a dick move. It’s one thing to be nice to someone if you don’t like them back, but it’s another to lead them on and say shit you don’t mean. And when Eddie really thinks about it, Steve’s just not that kind of guy.
The water is scalding, beating down on his back. Eddie groans, rubbing his hands over his face and reaching down to turn off the faucet.
They’re definitely gonna have to talk about it now. All the touching, the sleeping together, the jokes - all of it. How they’ve been playing house, essentially living like a married couple over the last couple of weeks. They’ve both gotten really good at avoiding it, but there’s no way they can keep going like this without talking about it. And Eddie’s got no fucking clue how that’s conversation’s gonna go - if it’s gonna end well for him or not. He has a feeling, just from the way his life’s gone up to this point, that it will not.
But then he thinks about Steve’s face in the pool - and he’d known, known in that moment, that if he’d kissed Steve, he would have kissed back.
So screwed.
Eddie’s been wearing a mixture of his and Steve’s clothes lately; his own ripped jeans and one of Steve’s stupid collared shirts, or his jean jacket with some of Steve’s lame khakis. It’s not because he thinks it looks good - it doesn’t, not to him. But Steve’s eyes tend to linger on him whenever Eddie wears his clothes, and, well. No explanation needed. Plus, no one else is gonna see him so what’s the harm?
He’s shaking a little when he gets dressed, just a pair of Steve’s sweats and his Hellfire shirt. Calm down you big baby, he snaps to himself as he pushes the bathroom door open and peeks into the bedroom. Steve’s sitting up on the edge of the bed, staring directly at him. He looks wide awake.
“Jesus Harrington, perv much?” Eddie huffs, grateful he can definitely blame his flushed cheeks on the shower.
“You don’t usually shower in the mornings,” Steve observes. Eddie nods.
“Yeah, I…just needed. A rinse.”
“Afraid of my cooties?” Steve says, grinning. Clearly he’s not as stressed out about all this as Eddie is.
Why isn’t he stressed out?
“I think we’re past cooties at this point,” He mumbles, closing the bathroom door and leaning back against it. Anticipation thrums under his skin. Steve’s sitting with one leg hanging off the bed, the other one bent underneath him. There’s an easy smile on his face, one that Eddie wants to trust but really, really doesn’t.
“Steve,” He says quietly. “Can I ask you something?”
He receives a nod. “When you…when I saw you at the park. You looked…really bad. Like, you looked kinda dead inside, like you…I dunno, like you hadn’t been eating or getting any sunlight or - just. You didn’t look good.” He waits a beat, watching Steve’s face shift into something like contemplation. “When you came to my place, you seemed…better. I don’t know…brighter?” He flushes. “Just, you looked so much different and it was only a couple days later. What happened?”
Steve leans back on his hands, frowning thoughtfully. It takes every ounce of self control Eddie has to keep his gaze above the neck and not look down at the sliver of stomach he sees between Steve’s shorts and his shirt. He can feel water dripping from his hair onto his own shirt, soaking through the fabric. His own tiny little cold shower.
“You know I have nightmares,” Steve says slowly. “I always have. Kind of my whole life. I mean not all the time…it didn’t get really bad until after my first encounter with the Demogorgon. All that shit we went through…I just, I threw myself in without question. I mean, don’t get me wrong - I had tons of questions. It was probably really annoying for everyone else, how slow I was, but I was there. I was there for the kids, for Nancy, I just - I wanted to make sure everyone was okay. Maybe I…maybe it was my way of proving to myself that I was more than some stupid jock, that I could do something, be something.” He grins. “I’m a pretty damn good babysitter.”
Eddie watches, transfixed, as Steve talks. He doesn’t think he’s ever heard him say so much about himself, and Eddie doesn’t even want to breathe, in case Steve loses steam.
“I know I argue and complain a lot, but I love the kids. I love being a part of their lives, of all of this shit, even as crazy and terrifying as it is. It gives me purpose.” Steve’s hands come up to rest at his sides, eyes cast downward. “When…when I was getting attacked by the demobats, I…I thought I was gonna die. I was so fucking scared, Eddie…I thought, this is it. This is really it. I didn’t expect you guys to come after me, and I just…I wasn’t ready, you know? But then I…you guys were there. You were just there. You saved my ass and I…I mean, I’m used to seeing Nancy like that, I’ve seen Robin like that before - but when I saw you, knowing you were scared shitless and still risking your life just to save me - I dunno, I guess it - it stuck with me.”
He grins up at Eddie, who’s got butterflies and moths and fucking pterodactyls beating around in his chest. “I kinda lost myself after everything was over. I mean, all that stuff with Nancy in the Upside Down…realizing we weren’t actually right for each other and almost dying like that - I was kinda fucked up. More than I’ve ever been. I wasn’t eating and I was sleeping like shit…Robin was kind of on my ass about it, scared I was gonna waste away or something. And I missed you, if you can believe that.” Another smile. “I wanted to thank you, talk to you, see if you were all right. But you were ignoring everyone, and then when I saw you at the park…I don’t even know why I went, that day. I just felt like I should. And I saw you and you seemed so…I mean, it was obvious you were fucked up too. I saw you and I just thought…maybe we needed each other. I told you from the beginning, none of this was just for you.”
Steve is looking at Eddie like he hung the very stars.
“I came to you because I thought you might need me,” Steve says, answering a question that hasn't been asked. “I didn't realize how much I’d need you too.”
Eddie has no clue what to say. His pulse is roaring in his ears as he tries to focus on one thing at a time; Steve had been, what, impressed by him? In the Upside Down? Him? And he'd missed him. Been thinking about him. All that time thinking no one gave a shit anymore and Steve had been thinking about him.
“I did need you,” Eddie hears himself say. “I - I needed something. I could feel it. I just - I didn't know it was you. But I’m…glad you came. To the park. If you hadn’t…”
“You’d still be surviving off stale pb&js,” Steve says, seemingly more at ease after his monologue. “Wouldn’t even know how to boil water - ”
“I wasn't that clueless,” Eddie protests, relaxing a little against the door as Steve gets up from the bed and takes a few steps toward him.
“Couldn’t even make eggs,” Steve says as he comes closer, eyes practically twinkling.
“Well that’s just factually inaccurate - ”
“Eddie.”
There’s a finger under his chin, tipping his head up. Eddie’s eyelids flutter as he locks eyes with Steve, heat licking across his skin at even this small amount of contact. He knows Steve can probably feel how quick his breathing is, puffing down over his hand. He knows what comes next, what he wants to come next, is practically trembling with it. But -
“Steve,” He whispers, shrinking against the door. Palms flat against the wood, trying to make himself small.
He doesn’t blame Steve for dropping his hand and backing away, but it still stings. “Wait, I - ”
“I don’t wanna - you look scared shitless, Eds.” Steve lets out a humorless chuckle. “Feels like I have you cornered, or something.”
I’m not brave.
“I’m not - you’re not cornering me,” Eddie says, trying to sound lighthearted. “I just - this is - I’ve never done this before,” He finishes lamely. Surprise flits across Steve’s face.
“What, kissed someone?”
Oh god. Of all the embarrassing things Steve knows about him, this has got to be the worst.
“Not - not really,” Eddie says, knowing how pained he sounds. Steve crosses his arms and waits patiently. God, he’s too nice. He’s way too nice and now Eddie has to stand here and explain his romantic history to a guy he didn’t even know was into men 24 hours ago. “Look, I kissed this girl one time at a party but we were both drunk and it was terrible and I barely even remember it. I’ve never - I’ve never kissed a guy before, let alone a guy I really like - ”
“You really like me?” A grin spreads across Steve’s face, a little too wicked for Eddie’s liking. “That’s cute, Eds.”
“Yeah, well, you like me too,” Eddie says, a little belligerent. Steve’s smile only widens, arms falling to his sides.
“You got me there,” He says.
Eddie’s heart leaps up into his throat. He actually goes weak in the knees, hands scrambling for purchase against the door.
“What, you - you actually like me?”
Steve throws his head back, letting out a full belly laugh that throws a fucking live grenade into the mess of butterflies in Eddie’s chest. He feels giddy, electrified as Steve looks over at him, cheeks flushed, eyes crinkling sweetly as he smiles.
“You’re so fucking cute,” Steve murmurs, suddenly soft. “And kinda clueless, you know that?”
“I’m not - don’t make fun of me,” Eddie mumbles, but he’s smiling a little. “This is - I’ve never - just, shut up.”
Steve’s gaze softens and he moves like he wants to come forward, but doesn’t want to scare Eddie again. So polite .
“You can come back over here,” Eddie says, sticking his chin up and hoping he looks defiant. “Just - I think I kinda need to be against the door cause I’m already about to fall over.”
Eddie’s pretty sure Steve’s smile could cure any and every disease in the world. It could obliterate the fucking Upside Down, superpowers be damned. At this point Eddie knows he’s not gonna die no matter how fast his heart is beating, but it’s starting to feel possible as Steve walks toward him slowly, with an impossibly gentle smile on his face. He lifts a hand to Eddie’s face, thumb brushing lightly over his cheek, and Eddie’s mortified at the way he leans into the touch, eyelids fluttering.
“You’re really, really pretty,” Steve murmurs. His thumb pulls at Eddie’s bottom lip, sending all of his blood rushing south; he feels his dick twitch, like it’s connected by an invisible string.
“Oh my god,” He mumbles, closing his eyes against the humiliation of being so affected when there’s barely anything happening. “Steve, Jesus.”
“I’ve never done this before either,” Steve says softly. Eddie opens his eyes a bit, chest flipping at how close Steve’s face is. His lips are shiny, like he’s just licked them. “Kissed a guy, I mean.”
“Cool,” Eddie says, like an idiot. “Great, yeah.”
Steve just grins some more, leaning in and brushing Eddie’s still-damp hair out of his eyes. His head is pressed against the door, so he’s got nowhere to move as Steve comes even close, closing the distance between them.
Kissing Steve feels…inevitable.
His lips are soft, warm as they press against Eddie’s, the kiss chaste and still immediately too much. Holy shit, his brain supplies as Steve hums softly against his mouth, slotting a leg between Eddie’s thighs. This is his first kiss, he decides, hands shaking as they come up to rest on Steve’s shoulders. It’s just a few soft presses of their lips against each other, mouths closed; they’re kinda kissing like sixth graders but to Eddie’s it’s everything. Steve’s hands come up to curve around his neck, fingers sliding up the back of his head and into his hair, nails scraping lightly against his scalp. It pulls a sharp whine from deep in Eddie’s chest, fireworks going off in his head as Steve pulls back and chuckles.
“Damn,” Steve says, voice a low hum. It settles in Eddie’s bones, even if he feels like a fucking sap for thinking it.
“Damn,” Eddie repeats, licking his lips.
“You’re still standing up on your own,” Steve observes, head cocked to the side. “I must not have done a very good job.”
It’s honestly maybe not even that good of a line but Eddie’s a sucker and he’s fucking besotted and it completely works on him. Hungry for more, he grabs two fistfuls of Steve’s shirt and pulls him in for another kiss, moaning when Steve’s leg shifts between his thighs, brushing up against his dick. Steve chuckles as Eddie’s lips part, taking the opportunity to lick into his mouth. Eddie’s really never kissed anyone but he’s seen it happen in movies, and he’s never seen it done like this. His mouth is open obscenely wide and Steve is sucking on his tongue, and it’s weird and it feels so fucking amazing. Eddie tries to quiet the whimpers that are desperate to come out, and Steve hums as he pulls away again, smoothing a thumb down Eddie’s chin.
“You don’t have to stay quiet,” Steve whispers, lips shiny with spit.
Eddie slumps against the door, embarrassingly out of breath for how little they’ve done so far. Steve’s head is tilted to the side, eyes dark as he grinds his knee up against Eddie’s clothed dick, and he’s distantly thankful neither of them is wearing jeans.
“Jesus fuck,” Eddie groans, head falling back against the door with a sharp thwack. He yelps, hands flying up to cradle the back of his skull as Steve tries unsuccessfully to stifle a laugh.
“Cmon, let’s - here, just - ” Steve’s lucky his laugh sounds like music, otherwise Eddie may be a little annoyed as he’s dragged over to the bed. He falls backwards onto the mattress, trying to fight a grin as Steve climbs on top of him, straddling him and effectively pinning him down. Eddie’s been held by Steve plenty of times but he’s never felt the full weight of him before, and especially not like this. It feels way too good. “Need me to kiss it better?”
“I can’t stand you,” Eddie murmurs, spreading his palms out over Steve’s thighs.
It’s finally kind of kicking in that he’s got a lap full of Steve Harrington, a very hard Steve Harrington, who presumably wants to do to Eddie exactly what Eddie wants to do to him. He’s never been this turned on in his life, and it’s more than a little intimidating. Sure Steve’s never been with a guy before but he’s still got way more experience and probably knows what he’s doing, a lot more than Eddie does.
“You look nervous again,” Steve murmurs, looking way too amused about it. “But you shouldn’t be.”
“Oh great, now I’m not nervous anymore,” Eddie quips, glaring up at the idiot straddling him. “Well done.”
Steve grins. “You look so pretty like this. With your hair all fanned out…like an angel.”
“Gross,” Eddie says, wrinkling his nose even though his stomach does about a dozen backflips. “Don’t get all sappy on me, Harringt - hnng - ”
He cuts himself off on a strangled moan as Steve rolls his hips down and smirks, falling forward, hands landing on either side of Eddie’s head.
“What was that? Sorry, couldn’t hear you.”
“F - fuck off,” Eddie says weakly, fingertips pressing into Steve’s thighs. His skin is warm to the touch, covered in soft hair.
Steve hums, nuzzling their noses together, and a dopey smile curls the edges of Eddie’s lips as they kiss again, soft and slow. He’s definitely been missing out, if this is what kissing feels like. Of course he’s got no basis for comparison but Eddie’s pretty sure Steve is the best kisser in the world. He licks at the seam of Eddie’s lips, chuckling when they part and invite his tongue in. Not sure what he’s doing but just going with what feels good, Eddie relaxes a little as he explores Steve’s mouth, groaning at how it feels like warm silk, hot and wet. He whimpers as Steve rolls his hips again, torturously slow, the friction sending pleasure twisting up and down Eddie’s spine.
“Like that?” Steve breathes against his lips, and Eddie’s mortified at how enthusiastically he nods, letting out another whimper.
“Fucking cute,” Steve mumbles, and then Eddie’s eyes roll into the back of his head as a hand comes down to slip beneath the waistband of his sweats, wrapping around his cock.
“Holy shit,” He blurts, hands falling from Steve’s thighs and dropping down to fist at the sheets. “J - Jesus Steve - ”
“Feels good?” Steve asks, but he’s not just doing it to be sexy; it’s a genuine question, he’s checking in, and somehow that makes it even hotter. Eddie’s never had someone else’s hand on his dick before and suddenly he wants.
“Good, fucking good yeah, Jesus Stevie it’s - ”
Steve laughs again, swiping his thumb over the head of Eddie’s cock and circling his wrist slowly. He noses at Eddie’s cheek, breathing heavy as he peppers kisses down his jaw, to his neck, where - god, Jesus fuck that feels good. Lips latch onto the base of Eddie’s neck, sucking softly as Steve’s tongue swirls in little circles that send pulses of pleasure straight to his cock. His hips are jerking up, trying to hump into Steve’s hand and it’s embarrassing how fucking needy he is but Steve doesn’t seem to care at all.
“So fucking cute Eds,” He mumbles, and then he slips his hands from Eddie’s pants and he wants to cry a little bit, maybe even start begging or grab Steve’s hand and shove it back down there.
But then Steve licks a long stripe up the side of his neck and Eddie tilts his head to give him better access, stars exploding behind his eyes as Steve’s teeth scrape along his earlobe, introducing in insane new tingling he’s never felt before. It’s like every single place Steve puts his tongue, it’s connected directly to Eddie’s dick; he can feel himself leaking more precum than he ever has in his fucking life.
“St - Stevie,” Eddie moans, back arching up off the bed. He’s completely at Steve’s mercy, willing to take anything and everything he has to give.
“Yeah?” Steve’s teasing him now, soft kissing pressing below Eddie’s jaw, tongue flicking out occasionally. And then he feels fingers against his chin, sliding up to press against his lips. Eddie makes a confused noise and opens his mouth a bit, and Steve kisses him on the cheek, as though it’s a reward for doing the right thing.
Eddie’s never had his mouth full like this before.
Steve’s middle and ring fingers slide between his lips, pressing down on his tongue, and Eddie moans at the intrusion, sucking greedily as Steve hovers above him, pupils blown wide. He pushes his fingers in a little further, shifting up a bit until Eddie can feel his cock against his hip, hard and hot. It’s clumsy the way Eddie grabs blindly between them, trying to get ahold of Steve’s dick, but then there’s another hand pressing his arm down against the mattress, and he whines around the fingers in his mouth.
“Mm, doing so good for me,” Steve breathes. Eddie’s eyes roll back in his head at the praise, and the way Steve’s essentially fucking his fingers into his mouth. It’s wet and messy and Eddie can feel drool starting to slide down his chin; he probably looks so fucking stupid but his entire body is alight with pleasure, coiling around his fucking veins. “But you don’t get to touch right now.”
What?
Somehow he forgets he can’t talk, letting out a garbled noise that Steve laughs at. He slides his fingers slowly out of Eddie’s mouth and he finally understands, as Steve reaches down between them and wraps his spit-slick hand around Eddie’s cock.
Oh shit, holy shit -
“ Fuck,” Eddie groans, so low in his throat it almost hurts. “Steve I’m - I don’t think I can - ”
“It’s okay,” Steve says softly, leaning down to lick at the shell of Eddie’s ear as he moves his wrist slowly, using Eddie’s spit and precum to jerk him off. He can’t think straight, can’t focus enough to even try and touch Steve anymore, is only vaguely aware of the pressure on his hand, still pressing his arm into the mattress. There’s a dizzying pressure building low in his belly, and he’s distantly aware of Steve’s hips moving against him, grinding on his hip, furthering the shocks of pleasure wracking through his body.
“Steve I’m gonna - ”
“Yeah, go ahead,” Steve allows, and he comes crashing down for a kiss that’s all teeth and tongue, biting down hard on Eddie’s bottom lip. It hurts like fuck for a second before it shifts into pleasure, and Eddie makes a sound he didn’t know he was capable of making as he comes, his entire body seizing up as Steve works him through it, panting against his mouth and working his cock with long, slow strokes.
It takes him several minutes to come down, sweat beading on his forehead as he blinks rapidly, trying to bring Steve’s features back into focus.
“You good?” Steve asks, letting go of Eddie’s arm and reaching up to brush his hair back from his eyes. It’s damp from more than just the shower now.
“Never better,” Eddie mumbles, suddenly exhausted. “I…wow. Do you want…I can…?” He gestures vaguely down between them, and Steve lets out an embarrassed laugh.
“No need,” He says, sliding his hand from Eddie’s pants and wiping it on the sheets. Eddie’s got a really weird urge to grab that hand and lick it clean. “I, um. Yeah.”
And then Eddie blinks, propping himself up on his elbows and realizing there’s another wet spot on his hip, where Steve -
“You fucking came in your pants, holy shit,” Eddie says before he can stop himself. “That’s fucking hot, Steve.”
“Glad you think so,” Steve mumbles, leaning back on Eddie’s lap.
He takes a long moment to admire the man on top of him, taking his time drinking in every detail. Steve somehow looks just as fucked out as Eddie feels, with kiss-swollen lips and a flush high on his cheeks, hair messy and falling in his face. Eddie brings a hand up to his neck, feeling around at the sensitive skin there.
“Do I have any hickies?” He asks hopefully. Steve laughs and starts climbing off of him.
“I didn’t do anything hard enough to leave a mark.” He chuckles again as Eddie pouts. “Maybe next time.”
“Next time?”
Steve pauses with one knee on the bed. “Well…yeah?”
“Just checking,” Eddie says with a nod. He sits up, finally feeling how uncomfortable his pants feel. “I think I need a shower.”
“Me too,” Steve says, running his clean hand through his hair. Eddie hesitates before jerking forward like a clumsy fuck, sliding a hand around the back of Steve’s neck and pulling him in for a kiss. It’s close mouthed and only lasts a few seconds but they’re both smiling like idiots when they pull apart.
“Wanna join me, save water?” Steve suggests, too casually.
“Smooth,” Eddie says with a grin, ducking as Steve swats at him.
➳
“I don’t think I wanna do this anymore.”
“Yes you do.”
“No I don’t - just call and cancel, seriously Steve I can’t do this - ”
“Eddie.”
“I don’t wanna do it anymore! Just tell them I’m sick.”
“Eddie.”
Steve plants a hand on his hip, giving Eddie his most stern look. It doesn’t work, not really, but it does cause Eddie to deflate a little, shoulders slumping as he sits on the edge of the bed.
“You’ve been planning this for days,” Steve says, climbing onto the bed behind him. He drapes himself over Eddie’s shoulders, planting a kiss just underneath his jaw. “I’ve heard you on the phone all week, you’ve been so excited and you’ve been working so hard on it. You’re not canceling and we both know it.”
“I’m nervous,” Eddie mumbles reluctantly. “I still feel bad.”
“No one’s mad at you,” Steve says softly, wrapping his arms around Eddie’s shoulders and clasping his hands in front of his chest. “If they were, they would have told you by now.”
“I guess,” Eddie sighs. “I just…I’ve missed them, you know? What if I…”
“Don’t have it anymore?” Steve teases, smacking an obnoxiously wet kiss on Eddie’s temple. That earns him a shove, Steve laughing as he falls backwards onto the bed. Eddie jumps up, tugging at his jacket and tossing his hair back. It feels good to be in his Hellfire threads, like he’s finally himself again.
“I’ll have you know,” Eddie says haughtily, puffing his chest out. “I never lost it.”
Steve quirks a brow, leaning back on his elbows.
“I simply misplaced it,” Eddie goes on, “And had to find it again.”
“Yeah, misplaced and lost, two totally different things,” Steve says, nodding sagely.
“Glad you understand,” Eddie says, grinning. He twirls a piece of hair between his fingers, glancing over at the clock. Steve’s looking at him with his head tilted to the side, legs spread slightly, a curious lilt to his brows. “Do we have time?”
“No way,” Steve says, but he doesn’t move. “Dustin’ll have your ass if you’re even one minute late.”
“You said he wasn’t mad!”
“No, but you’re on thin ice,” Steve says with a shrug. He smirks a little though, opening his legs a little more.
“Harlot,” Eddie says darkly, crawling onto the bed and settling between Steve’s spread legs. “Whatever happened to decency - ”
“Maybe you should learn to control yourself,” Steve says, letting Eddie push him slowly back against the bed.
“It’s not very nice of you to get me all worked up like this right before an important meeting,” Eddie admonishes. Steve snorts, reaching up to twist a hand in his hair. He gives it a slight tug, pulling a gasp from Eddie’s throat.
“Your important meeting is Dungeons and Dragons,” Steve mumbles, nipping at Eddie’s lips. “And I think you’ll survive.”
“I think we have a little time,” Eddie breathes, heat pooling in his belly as Steve gazes up at him through half-lidded eyes.
“I - ”
The phone rings, startling Eddie right off of Steve’s lap; he catches himself before he hits the floor, this time.
“That’ll be Dustin,” Steve says, snickering. Eddie sighs, getting to his feet and reaching out a hand to help pull Steve up as well.
“I think I’ve just accepted that the phone is always gonna scare the shit outta me,” Eddie says with a sigh.
“Very brave of you to admit that,” Steve says with a nod, but his smile is warm and meaningful. Eddie ducks his head as Steve leans in to kiss him on the cheek, lingering a bit longer than normal. “You got this, okay? It’s gonna be awesome.”
“You’re sure you don’t wanna stay and watch?” Eddie asks as they make their way downstairs. “Moral support or…whatever.”
He leans against the front door as Steve grabs his keys, stuffing his hands in his pockets so it’s not visible how they're starting to shake.
“Hey,” He hears Steve call. “Eds.”
Eddie looks up to see Steve standing right in front of him, a soft smile on his face. “I really think you’re gonna be fine. But if you’re not, just call me at Robin’s and I’ll come get you. I promise. Okay?”
“Yeah, okay.” Eddie feels like a baby but he leans in as Steve pulls him in for a hug, nuzzling against each other’s necks.
“Okay we’re really late now,” Steve says, laughing as he pulls away.
Eddie rolls his eyes and pulls a hand out of his pocket, reaching out as Steve opens the door. Eddie follows him outside and Steve looks down, smiling as he links their hands together.
Notes:
thanks for reading, if you got this far! i already miss these idiots so hopefully i'll be writing more of them soon, i have a couple ideas that are shorter and a bit errrrr smuttier.
sappy ending cause that's what they deserve. let me know what you thought, if you want! see ya next time
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