Chapter Text
As Steve peels out of his driveway, he runs through the catalog in his head of places he can crash.
If it wasn’t two in the morning, he would already be on his way to Robin’s by now. She’s been having just as many issues with insomnia as Steve has, so there’s a decent likelihood she’s still awake, but he knows her parents wouldn’t take all that kindly to him showing up in the middle of the night.
He could go to Dustin’s, but the kid has gotten annoyingly responsible about going to bed on time on school nights, and he gets pissy if he doesn’t get his eight hours. And anyways, what would Steve say to Mrs. Henderson?
In the old days, he maybe could have gone to Hopper’s, since the chief could usually be relied on to be up at all hours. These days though, he’s settled in with the freshly returned Byers family, and Steve doesn’t really feel like disturbing Joyce and the kids.
If it was just about finding a place to sleep tonight, Steve could park up at the quarry and pass out in his car there. It’s not like he hasn’t done it before. Hell, he could even go let himself into Family Video and crash on the couch in the back.
But it’s not just about sleeping. Steve doesn’t want to be alone right now.
Really, he’s left with one option. He’s driven past the sign for Forest Hills and is pulling up in front of the new Munson trailer before he even realizes that he’s made the conscious decision to do so. Steve cuts the engine.
It makes sense to come here. Eddie’s uncle Wayne works nights, so the only person he’ll be bothering is Eddie. And Steve knows Eddie to be a light sleeper from that night over the summer when they all camped out in the Wheelers’ backyard, so he feels reasonably confident that Eddie will wake up if he knocks. If he’s even asleep. Steve has seen the dark circles under Eddie’s eyes and has wondered if he’s been having the same sleepless nights.
Steve pushes open his car door and gets out. The door falls shut behind him before he can catch it and he jumps at the noise, heart leaping into his throat. Just a car door, he tells himself. Nothing to be afraid of.
He hops up the steps to the trailer two at a time and knocks on the door. Pounds on the door. Is really hurting his hand on this door until it finally swings open. Eddie is there, hair fluffed out in a halo around his head, rubbing sleep out of his eye. He’s not wearing a shirt, something Steve takes note of even in his addled state.
“The hell are you doing, Harrington?” Eddie slurs, voice lower and more gravelly than usual from sleep. Then he seems to notice the look on Steve’s face and drops his hand. “What happened?”
Steve leans his shoulder against the doorframe. “Can I come in?”
Eddie steps aside to let him through, shutting the door again once Steve has entered. He looks Steve up and down, maybe making note of the pajamas and disheveled hair and downturned expression.
“Is it about your parents?” Eddie asks.
“Kind of,” Steve says. His parents came home a few days ago, and it’s had Steve on edge. Eddie came into Family Video the other day and caught part of Steve recounting to Robin the latest installment of Steve’s dad telling him how he’s a disappointment, how he’s a burnout, how he’s a disgrace. Nothing new, really.
Eddie opens his arms and Steve steps into them. It’s something he loves about Eddie; he’ll be waiting with arms outstretched before he even knows what the problem is. Steve lets himself sink into Eddie, head on his shoulder, feeling momentarily safer in the circle of the other man’s arms.
“Do you want to talk about it?” Eddie asks against Steve’s ear.
“I had a nightmare,” Steve says. It sounds stupid when he says it out loud. He has nightmares almost every night. But this was a particularly bad one. The finer points are slipping away, but Steve remembers a swirling cocktail of every awful thing he’s faced in the past three years with all the details swapped around; Dustin getting lifted into the air with his bones snapping, Will melting into a puddle of flesh and blood, Robin walking into Steve’s pool and never walking out.
“I’m sorry,” Eddie murmurs, hand running over Steve’s hair. “I get them too.”
Steve closes his eyes, feeling calmer with the soft skin of Eddie’s neck against his cheek. “I can normally handle them better,” he says.
On the nights when his parents are away, Steve will go downstairs and turn the TV on at top volume to distract himself. He’ll drink or smoke to calm himself down. He’ll turn on every light in the house. He can’t do any of that when his parents are home.
“I woke them up,” Steve says.
“Your parents?” Eddie asks.
Steve nods. “I didn’t mean to,” he says, “I can get loud sometimes, when the nightmares are bad. It’s not usually a big deal when it’s just me.”
Eddie hums against his ear. Steve takes it as encouragement to go on. “My dad came in, got pretty mad at me.”
“Mad?”
“For disturbing them. Thinks I’m too old to be having nightmares, especially the scream-yourself-awake kind.”
“God, Steve,” Eddie murmurs. He rubs his hand over Steve’s back and Steve feels just a little more okay.
“It’s not a big deal,” he said, “Couldn’t stay, though.”
“You can stay here,” Eddie offers, like it’s nothing. It’s everything to Steve.
“Is that alright?” he asks.
“‘Course it is,” Eddie says, “Come on.”
Steve lets himself be led into Eddie’s room. Eddie pulls back the blankets on his bed and climbs in, scooting all the way to the far side. Steve crawls in after him. He hesitates a second before sliding closer to Eddie and putting his head on his chest. Eddie’s arms go around Steve immediately.
“You’re safe here,” Eddie tells him softly.
And as Steve’s eyelids get heavy, he thinks he may just believe him.
Steve eases back into consciousness. He becomes aware of the world around him slowly, in pieces. The first thing he notices is gentle morning light on the other side of his eyelids. Next he notices warm arms around him, a leg slotted between his. Then he notices that he actually feels well-rested, more so than he has in weeks, maybe months.
He opens his eyes and tilts his head up. The motion draws the attention of Eddie, who is already awake.
“Hey,” Eddie says, voice low and sleepy. “Sleep okay?”
“Yeah,” Steve says. And he feels so comfortable and secure that his guard is down. “Best sleep of my life.”
Eddie smiles, slow and easy. “No nightmares?”
“No nightmares,” Steve confirms. He closes his eyes again and lets his face rest against Eddie’s chest. He thinks maybe he shouldn’t be doing this, that this isn’t quite as passable in the light of day. But he doesn’t move, and Eddie isn’t asking him to.
“What time is it?” Steve asks, his voice muffled against Eddie’s skin.
“Little after seven,” Eddie tells him.
Steve makes a small, dissatisfied noise in the back of his throat. “I have to go take Dustin to school.”
Eddie runs a hand over his hair. “Let me do it this morning,” he says.
Steve lifts his head. “You don’t have to do that,” he says, “It’s my turn.”
Eddie gives him a lopsided smile. “I don’t mind,” he says, “You can take my turn tomorrow.”
“You’re sure?” Steve asks, looking up at Eddie’s eyes that are all shades of honey in the morning light.
“I’m sure,” Eddie says. He gently untangles himself and gets out of bed. Steve watches him pull on a Dio shirt and then look back at Steve.
“Try to get some more sleep, if you can,” Eddie says, “I’ll bring us back some breakfast.”
He moves to the door, pulls it open.
“Hey, Eddie?”
Eddie pauses in the doorway. “Hm?”
“Thank you,” Steve says.
Eddie smiles at him before he steps out and closes the door behind him.
Steve wakes up again sometime later, still cocooned in the blankets of Eddie’s bed. The alarm clock tells him that it’s well after eight. He feels sleepy and safe and like he could maybe fall back asleep, but he also hears voices.
Steve sits up. He recognizes the voices of Eddie and his uncle. Shit. He’s not sure what Wayne Munson is going to think about another man sleeping in his nephew’s bed.
Steve stands. Might as well get it over with.
He eases the door open and pads down the hallway. Eddie, who is leaning on the counter, arms crossed on the linoleum, sees him and grins.
“Morning, Sleeping Beauty,” he says. He says it with a sort of quiet fondness that makes Steve feel like he’s still curled up in a warm blanket.
Wayne looks over his shoulder at Steve. He doesn’t seem to have much of a visible reaction at all to seeing a man leaving his nephew’s room at eight in the morning. Wayne gives him a nod. “Steve, isn’t it?”
“Yes, sir,” Steve says, still hovering in the hallway.
Wayne pulls a face. “Now don’t go on with all that ‘sir’ nonsense,” he says, “Wayne is fine.”
Eddie props his chin in his hand. “You know, you don’t have to keep lurking over there,” he says, smile still playing on his lips.
“Maybe I enjoy lurking,” Steve says. He moves around the counter and crosses his arms on it next to Eddie, mirroring his position. “Did you ever consider that?”
Eddie leans into his space, grin widening. “I didn’t consider that,” he says. His face is only a few inches from Steve’s and his eyes are so big and beautiful and Steve could kiss him, if he wanted. Maybe it wouldn’t even be all that earth moving.
“I’m turning in,” Wayne says. Eddie’s head turns to his uncle. Steve lifts himself off the counter, straightening.
“G’night,” Eddie calls after Wayne as he retreats down the hall. Then he looks back at Steve. “You hungry?”
“I could eat,” Steve says.
“Good,” Eddie says. He reaches past Steve and slides over a paper bag with the bakery’s logo printed in the center. The smell of fresh-baked pastries wafts out as Eddie tears the bag open. Steve could swoon.
“Have a seat,” Eddie says, nodding to the table. Steve drops himself into one of the chairs and Eddie sits across from him, pulling the pastries out of the bag and setting them out on napkins. “Take your pick.”
All of them look mouthwatering, but Steve goes straight for the pastry with the almond slices baked into the top. Eddie’s lips curl into the tiniest smile.
“Thought you’d go for that one,” he says.
Steve is about to ask why, but then he’s remembering a day that happened months ago, sometime after Robin and Eddie’s graduation, when Steve drove Dustin over to the Sinclairs’ for a Saturday morning D&D session. Mrs. Sinclair invited him inside for breakfast, claiming she had bought too much. Steve leaned against their kitchen counter, eating this very pastry, singing the praises of the baker for putting such a delicious morsel on God’s green earth. Eddie laughed at him and told him to get a room.
“I like almonds,” is all Steve says now. Still, as soon as he takes a bite, his eyes fall closed in ecstasy. He could marry this baker, truly he could.
Eddie laughs. “God, Harrington, you’re ridiculous.” But his voice is just as soft, just as warm, just as sweet.
After they’ve eaten, Steve is sitting back in his chair, eyes fixed somewhere just before the window, thinking. Before long, he’ll have to pick up Robin for their morning shift at Family Video. He’s not sure what to wear. His work vest lives in his car, so that’s not an issue, but he has the feeling Keith isn’t going to be thrilled about Steve showing up in his pajamas.
“You having a Vietnam flashback over there?” Eddie asks. Steve looks at him.
“What?”
“Your eyes are all—” Eddie looks over Steve’s shoulder and lets his eyes go unfocused. He holds it a second before looking back at Steve. “What are you thinking about so hard?”
“Work,” Steve says.
Eddie leans forward and puts his chin in his hand. “God, am I that boring?” he asks, grinning. “You have to think about movie rentals just to keep yourself entertained?”
Steve snorts. “No,” he says, shaking his head. “I’m thinking about what I’m gonna wear.”
He can’t go home for a change of clothes. Not if he doesn’t want to run into his parents. His mom’s social calendar doesn’t usually start until the afternoon, and his dad has been taking meetings over the phone in his home-office the last few days. There would be no way to avoid them.
“You wanna borrow something?” Eddie asks.
“Is that alright?”
“What’s mine is yours, love.” Eddie stands and strolls down the hall without a backwards look. After a moment, Steve gets up and follows him. He finds Eddie digging through his closet.
“I won’t make you wear anything that’s been on the floor,” he says.
Steve sits on the edge of the bed and surveys the piles of clothes and other detritus that litter every surface. “Does that leave anything?” he asks.
“Very funny, Harrington,” Eddie says. A shirt hits Steve in the face and falls into his lap. He unfurls it.
“Scorpions,” he reads.
“Good band,” is all Eddie says. After another moment he comes up with a pair of jeans with a hole ripped in one knee. He hands them to Steve. “These should fit.”
“Where’s your bathroom?” Steve asks.
Eddie shakes his head. “I’ll go, you stay.”
He leaves, closing the door behind him with a quiet click. Steve pulls his pajama shirt over his head and slips into Eddie’s shirt. It’s soft, clearly well-worn. And it smells like Eddie—cigarettes and weed under whatever cheap cologne he uses. Steve allows himself one moment with his nose to his own shoulder, inhaling. Then he stands and changes into the jeans. He’s not sure he likes the feel of one knee hanging out, but they do actually fit pretty well.
Steve goes back out to the kitchen. Eddie is clearing the remains of breakfast off the table but stops when he sees Steve, a smile crossing his face that would almost be shy if anything about Eddie could ever be shy.
“Let’s see it,” he says.
“Want me to do a twirl?” Steve asks.
Eddie crosses his arms and leans back against the table. “Go on, then.”
Dutifully, Steve rotates 360 degrees. When he comes back to front he watches Eddie running the length of his body with his eyes. He thinks he always wants Eddie to look at him like that.
“You wear it well, Harrington.”
Steve helps Eddie finish cleaning up breakfast. By now, he really does need to leave so he’s not late picking up Robin. He grabs his car keys off the counter, swinging them once around his finger.
“Are you coming back here after?” Eddie asks, leaning on the counter next to him.
Steve looks into his eyes, seeing hopefulness there. “Is that alright?”
“‘Course it’s alright,” Eddie says, “You can crash here as long as you need.”
“Okay then,” Steve says, “I’ll come back after.”
Eddie gives him that wide, lopsided smile that sets his face glowing and Steve could kiss him. He really could.