A Tarnished Copper Boy

by PaperBackRibs

Summary:

“Wait,” Steve grabs Eddie's hand before he flies away. “Stay?” His eyes are worn and a hint of fear shimmers underneath.

“This is really scary,” he admits. “I don’t know what’s going on and I don’t know when I’ll suddenly disappear. Maybe I’ll just disappear for good? It’d be nice if there was someone familiar around. Plus,” Steve adds with a weary grin, “you were probably busy before I intruded.”

He peers around Eddie to nod at the desk that he'd been standing next to. Eddie hears an echo of disappear for good and thinks that maybe he wants to watch over Steve while he sleeps too, make sure that he doesn’t pop out of existence under Eddie’s nose.

In 1984, Eddie finds himself in front of a rugged version of the preppy jock he’s only peripherally aware of at school. Compelled by Steve's tale of time travel, Eddie invites him to hide in his trailer until he can return to his proper place and time in 1986.

Chapter 1: Prologue: The Beginning

Notes:

Edit: Heads up, be careful of scrolling through the comments because you may get spoilers. 💚

Spring 1986

With a gasp, Eddie collides onto the thin mattress below him, blearily blinking up at the jagged portal pulsing above. The heavy vest around his torso absorbs most of the impact, but the sudden movement knocks the breath out of him as the torn gashes in his thighs and neck pull painfully.

His skin is clammy and for one muddled moment, Eddie thinks his body is wet and that the red of the portal is the crimson lightning flashing through the Upside Down skies.

However, he sees a shift of movement above as Steve tugs on the rope made out of linen and Eddie’s disorientation steadies into a wash of relief: he’s made it out, alive and in the right side up.

“Help me grab him, we need to move so Steve can come through,” Nancy instructs, and Eddie shifts to see her and Robin bending to grasp him under the arms, even as Dustin hovers nervously nearby, wobbling on his injured leg.

That’s right: the bats, and they’ve just kicked Vecna’s ass too, taking him down and saving the goddamn world. Eddie grins loopily up at Robin, “We’re superheroes.”

She grins back, settling him against the couch with a grunt, “Damn straight.”

Their high five is a bit wobbly, but it’ll do; almost in unison, they look up to see Steve dithering with the rope on the other side, still tugging on it with a distracted look.

“Hey dingus,” she yells, “get a move on.”

Yes, move it, Eddie thinks more soberly, a sense of urgency rising at every moment that Steve delays.

Vecna may be dead and banished to the realms of whatever hell he deserves, but Eddie’s not going to feel at peace until he has Steve safe and unharmed by his side. He needs to put his hands on him, just once to assure himself that this version of Steve is finally out of harm’s way.

Steve looks up sharply at Robin’s voice, shock rippling over his features as he stares back at them before suddenly breaking into a broad, relieved smile. Eagerly, he jumps high up onto the rope in an athletic display of his prowess.

“Oh, he’s definitely going to expect us to applaud that,” Robin snickers, the weariness about her body briefly easing as she enjoys her friend’s antics. Eddie’s lips twitch: Steve can be a bit of a show-off when it comes to flaunting his jock strength.

As if he can hear Eddie’s thoughts, Steve tilts his head up to look through the portal once more, hovering before touching the gate. His teeth flash in one final grin as he stretches to fall through the unnatural breach between worlds.

Yet the portal never claims him. The space above the mattress next to Eddie remains vacant and, as the three of them continue to stare up into the empty Upside Down trailer, all they can see is the dirty linen rope swaying absently above.

In an all too familiar blink of an eye, Steve has disappeared.

Robin visibly falters next to Eddie. “Where’d he go?” she asks in a small, bewildered voice.

Dustin’s eyes widen fearfully and his head snaps to Eddie, looking for confirmation. Eddie is unable to meet his gaze, jaw clenching as he focuses on that damned rope, its fading rhythm counting down every second that Steve has left like a cursed metronome.

“Steve?” Nancy calls, cupping her hands to her mouth as if he had simply fallen back to the floor and rolled away.

But Robin shakes her head and continues shaking it as Steve remains missing, “No, no, no. What happened? He was right there! Nancy,” she turns to the other girl desperately, “is there some sort of transporter? Like beam me up, Scotty in the Upside Down?”

Nancy reaches her hands out to stop Robin’s wild gestures, pulling her shaking hands down. “It’s okay, we’ll find him,” she hastily attempts to reassure Robin. “It may be some weird interdimensional thing, maybe he came out through one of the other gates. He can’t have gone far,” Nancy reasons, “we’ll search for him.”

“Don’t bother,” Eddie rasps tiredly, the weariness in his bones weighed down by one long week of hell preceded by two unexplained years of time fuckery.

Dustin’s eyes haven’t left Eddie’s face since Steve disappeared, but now Robin and Nancy’s gazes fly to him too.

“What do you know, Eddie?” Nancy asks cautiously, frowning. spring break has taught him that Nancy Wheeler doesn’t do well with not having all information on hand. Robin looks increasingly anxious too, shifting on the balls of her feet even as she sporadically glances back up at the gate like Steve will reappear at any moment.

“Steve’s gone,” Eddie scrubs a hand down the filth covering his face, the ash of the Upside Down and blood from his injuries smearing into a nauseating mix. “He’s gone back in time,” he clarifies.

Robin makes a small, broken sound but Eddie can only look up at the gate, watching the pulsing crimson of the wide maw that started all this. “He’s gone back to me.”

 

 

Notes:

*sweats* this is probably the worst time of the year to start posting, but I'm so excited about this fic that I can't wait anymore. Anyway! Any thoughts or comments are always appreciated, and enjoy the coming ride. 💖

Chapter 2: The Sentinel

Summary:

Last chapter, it was spring break 1986, Vecna was vanquished but Steve mysteriously disappeared when he touched the gate in Eddie's trailer.

This chapter, it's Fall 1984 and Eddie has started senior year for the second time when Steve Harrington inexplicably falls at his feet, urgently patting him down and checking for Eddie's 'injuries.'

Fall 1984

Eddie slams his school bag against the side of the couch before falling onto its worn cushions, huffing. It’s only day one into his repeat of senior year and he already wants to quit.

Today had been an unending exercise in patience after walking through the wide doors of Hawkins High while also pretending not to experience the wash of humiliation for failing to graduate last year. Already thinking that he looks older and certainly feels older than most of the student body.

He'd caught glances from the former juniors too. Typically, being seen as the resident freak wouldn’t get to Eddie. He likes to court that sort of attention every now and then. But the knowledge that he’s returned due to his own fuck up turned their scrutiny into tiny, pointed daggers stabbing across his back. It made his skin crawl and his van had squealed out of the parking lot minutes after the final bell rang.

An image of Wayne’s hopeful face fills his vision and Eddie’s head falls back against the arm with a groan. He had promised Wayne that he would try again and there is nothing he wouldn’t do for his uncle.

Glaring at the open bag, Eddie decides however that he doesn’t need to tackle it all immediately. Day one, he reasons to himself, pulling out his campaign notebook and pushing The Great Gatsby further into the depths of his backpack.

The scratch of his pen on paper is the only sound in the trailer as Eddie details his new idea about a township under siege. Afternoon sunlight spills past the curtains hanging on the window, the warm glow of it creating a soothing space as he determinedly forgets his day. Eddie faintly notes from its frantic barking that the Hamilton’s dog has spotted a cat when his calm is shattered.

A falling object slams from the ceiling to the floor. The thud echoes through the trailer and shudders under Eddie’s seat.

Pulse jumping in surprise he scrambles away from the moaning intruder sprawled face-down on the carpet. What the fuck, Eddie thinks, head whipping around in increasing shock, urgently looking for where the man had come from.

He’s half crouched, eyeing the front door, when the man struggles to push up onto his hands and knees, back facing Eddie. “Why’d you move the mattress?” he calls out irately.

The surprise of such a non-sequitur briefly knocks Eddie out of his fear and he peers closer, trying to make sense of this strange turn to his afternoon.

He’s just had a moment to take in the back of mud-splattered pants and a brown leather bomber jacket before the man bellows, “Christ!” He plunges to his side, kicking his legs in pain. “Shitting Christ,” he hisses, clutching at his sides. “Like a thousand fucking needles.”

The genuine pain in his voice has Eddie pausing from his bent position, warily watching and surprising himself as he asks, “Are you okay, man?” He immediately slaps a hand to his forehead: what idiot is concerned for the wellbeing of their home invader?

“Yeah,” the man eventually groans, rolling over onto his back and slowing his breathing. He gingerly rises, propping one hand behind him for support and running fingers through thick bronze locks. “Just a bad landing, is all,” Steve Harrington says in the middle of Eddie’s trailer.

Eddie absently wonders whether it’s his head tilting to the side or if it’s the world spiralling that has the ground swaying under him so abruptly. Either way, it does nothing to distract from the shock that’s rung through him like a slap to the face.

Steve’s eyes suddenly lock on Eddie and, bizarrely, a shadow of concern clouds his expression. “Shit,” he rushes to his knees, darting to hover over him, his palms raised like he doesn’t know where to touch first. “Are you okay? You shouldn’t be moving like that.”

Steve pushes him gently against the couch and, just as bizarrely, Eddie simply… lets him. The surprise of this entire situation numbing him into a blank compliance.

Steve presses his hands against the sides of Eddie’s torso, the warmth of it scalding through his thin shirt, before frowning and shaking his head. “No, it was…” He redirects his attention, staring intently at Eddie’s lap before starting to pat large palms against his legs. He frowns, “Where’s the blood?”

But it’s Steve’s thumb moving against the inside of his thigh—the intimacy of the inadvertent gesture—that finally jolts Eddie out of his shock and he slaps at Steve’s roving fingers with one hand and uses the other to push him away.

Unprepared for Eddie’s hasty resistance, Steve falls on his backside with an oomph, arms splaying behind him to keep himself upright. His face is one long crease, mouth downturned and brows furrowed. “Where are your injuries?” he asks urgently, eyes darting over Eddie’s exposed neck and collarbones.

“What injuries?” Eddie asks in exasperation, feeling like he’s going out of his mind.

Steve leans urgently forward, gesturing with a frantic hand. “The bats, man. You’re— that is, you were pumping blood out of those bites just a second ago. I thought Robin was going to puke if she had to look under your bandage one more time. Robin—” His head swivels, turning and twisting, trying to find—Eddie assumes—this Robin.

Under his warm tan, Steve pales even as his breathing picks up. “Where’s Robin? What about Dustin? Why—” His head snaps to the ceiling in a way that has Eddie wincing in sympathetic pain. He follows his eyeline but all he can see is the normal plain beige above them, and that small water stain that looks like Australia in the corner.

Steve’s wide eyes shoot back to Eddie, panic clear in their depths as they frantically take in every detail. He shifts back onto his knees, slowly reaching out to touch the end of Eddie’s hair, now long enough to just brush his shoulders. His fingers tremble. “Your hair, it’s so short. And…” He swallows, the gulp audible in the silence of the room, “You’re okay. The trailer is okay.”

He trails off, gaze turning inward before focusing on the curl pinched between his fingertips. “It hasn’t happened yet, has it.”

Steve’s face is inches from his own, enough that Eddie can feel the warmth of his breath as it washes over his skin. He’s not keen on how Steve’s invading his personal space but doesn’t have it in him to push someone away when they are so clearly freaking out. The guy looks like he’s teetering on the edge of a full-blown panic attack. And the last thing he needs is some jock losing his mind in Eddie’s home; though, it wouldn’t be the first time he’s talked someone down from a bad trip.

Eddie sighs, he may not like or even really know Steve, but he doesn’t want  to see him suffer either. “Steve,” Eddie says gently, trying to break through the fog clouding his expression, “what’d you take, man?”

That’s the first thing to figure out: has he been mixing with drinks, is it some bad shrooms, or a paranoid spiral from getting too baked? Eddie’s thinking something along the lines of acid if the guy is hallucinating bats big enough to take down a fully grown man.

Steve snorts, a bit of colour returning to his face as he drops Eddie’s curls, leaning back onto his heels. “No, man. I’m not high.” His head tilts back as he spears his fingers through his hair and Eddie struggles not to look too closely at the smooth skin stretched over his neck or the pretty little moles dotted across it.

“Not high, but I feel a little out of my mind. I think…” He curses, still staring up at the ceiling like it’s an oracle about to unveil otherworldly guidance. “I think I’m not in the right place or the right—” He stops like he can’t say it.

Eddie shifts uneasily against the couch. For the most part, Steve seems in his right mind, even if the contents of what he’s saying don’t make much sense. His gaze narrowing, Eddie finally realises that the man in front of him also looks very different from the high school junior of last year. He appears roughed up, for one thing, with smudges of dirt smeared across a cheek and under his chin. And his jaw looks sharper and hair longer, more 70’s rebel than 1950’s greaser.

“The ‘right’ what?” Eddie asks softly, figuring it won’t hurt to play along and understand what’s making Steve stop and start his sentences like a stalling engine. Plus, he’s sort of intrigued by this rugged version of the prep jock that he’s used to seeing in the hallways. The dissonance was disorientating at first, but he can’t deny that it’s a good look on him.

Steve gazes at Eddie’s shoulder-length hair again, dropping his eyes to the backpack against the couch that’s half open and spilling onto the floor, his school notepad and maths textbook peeking through. “Remind me, Eddie. What grade are you in right now?”

Eddie rolls his eyes, trying to think if they had any classes together today to justify the annoyance that runs through him. If nothing else, a returning senior is still noteworthy he thinks a little bitterly. “Come on, Harrington. It’s day one of our final year, don’t tell me you’ve checked out this early.”

“Right,” Steve nods to himself, Eddie’s irritation not even registering. “1984. You were at the desk in front of me in Click's. I’d catch you drawing your characters and monsters for Hellfire rather than taking notes.”

Eddie’s eyebrows fly up in surprise, “You know about Hellfire?”

Steve takes in Eddie’s expression, a slow smile spreading across his face. “Yeah man, my kids love that club.” He rolls up to his feet in an easy movement that has Eddie vaguely jealous.

Standing tall above Eddie with one hand curled around his hip he looks like he’s about to outline the Tiger’s new gameplan, Steve continues to explain, “I was a bit jealous at first, but Dustin loves it and really that’s what matters, right? Dustin…” He snaps his fingers, lips firming, “He’ll know what’s going on.”

“Uh, you might be thinking of some other club then, because we don’t have a Dustin,” Eddie says.

Steve’s smile deepens, a small secretive thing like he’s laughing at a joke that Eddie may not know but oddly he doesn’t feel like it’s at his expense either. “No, not yet. You’ll love him though.” He hums thoughtfully, “It’s hard not to like the little butthead. Hey, you have the van yet?”

Eddie blinks from the abrupt change of topic and at Steve as he unerringly strides to the space on the wall by the front door. “Yeah?” he says, confused as Steve plucks the Chevy’s chain from the hooks where he and Wayne keep their keys.

It’s out in the open so Eddie’s not exactly shocked that Steve went there first, but his confidence at finding the location in one go is weird.

Eddie supposes the ghoul figurine that he had painted and tailored to work as a key chain makes it even more obvious since Steve Harrington apparently knows about Dungeons and Dragons and thus can guess that the monster hanging on the hook is likely Eddie’s.

Eddie, who he has noticed in class. Or will. He’s not sure about the whole thing concerning Mrs Click’s class since they didn’t have history today.

The jarring difference between Steve’s words against reality must be the reason that Eddie feels a half step behind, which is also why it takes a moment to launch into action when Steve twirls the key ring around one blunt finger before stepping out of the trailer. The screen door slaps shut behind him.

“Hey!” Eddie calls out, scrambling after him only to find that Steve is waiting outside. He moves Eddie gently down the steps with his hands around his biceps before turning to close the door. After the quiet snick of the lock turning, he presses the keys into Eddie’s hand. “Give me a lift?”

Eddie closes his gaping mouth and nods dumbly. Sure, why not, he thinks, swallowing down a giggle at the ridiculous circus his afternoon has devolved into. Steve jogs over to the unlocked van door and launches himself onto the passenger seat, wincing and grabbing at his side with a soft curse.

Eddie frowns as he follows him into the driver’s side, “Are you sure you’re okay?”

Steve just smiles, pushing a hand back to rap against the passenger window, “You should lock your car door, man. It’d be pretty easy to hotwire, right?”

Staring at Steve, whose tongue is firmly in his cheek and looking less lost and more amused, Eddie wonders aloud, “What is even happening right now?”

“Ignore me,” Steve shakes his head, eyes glimmering with humour. “Can you get to Piney Wood Drive off of Church Street?”

Eddie nods slowly, not completely sure about why he’s allowing himself to be directed by Steve’s whims. He thinks that a sort of morbid curiosity for this mystery is pulling him along like metal fillings drawn to a shiny magnet.

“Sure,” he finally answers, turning the key. Judas Priest blasts from the stereo and Rob Halford growls about the growing storm. Eddie reverses off the gravel while Steve reaches over to turn the volume down, but surprisingly doesn’t flick it off.

Steve doesn’t say anything for a moment, just looking out at the blur of houses past the window and tapping his finger against the car door in time with the beat. “Is this Ozzy?” he asks.

Eddie blinks at the stop sign they’ve paused at, “You know Black Sabbath?” Has his soul left his body? Maybe Eddie’s the one tripping balls back at home because surely Steve doesn’t know Black Sabbath.

“Not really,” Steve chuckles. “I just know he’s pretty metal — bit a bat onstage, right?”

Again with the bats. “You have a thing for small flying marsupials?” Eddie turns left onto Highland Drive, slowing down as an older couple cross the middle of the street.

“I don’t think they are. Marsupials, that is.” Steve gestures to his stomach, “No, uh, pouches, right?”

Eddie reroutes his thoughts to safer, saner places than a world where he’s being taught species characteristics by someone he’s fairly sure he’s not exchanged two words with before today. He decides to flip the script instead, “No, this is Judas Priest. The Sentinel.”

“Is that a D&D reference?”

Eddie huffs in disbelief, “No, it’s the song title. It’s about a protector that’s ready to defend against any threat. He’s pretty badass, has blades and everything.”

“Sounds like D&D,” Steve snorts as Eddie turns down Church Street.

Eddie inclines his head, “Touche. Now, where are we heading?” Steve directs him to the top of the incline on Piney Wood Drive where a cluster of birch trees surround a wide, single-storey house. The peaks of the roof charmingly peer out between the tall, white trunks like a little hobbit home.

And it’s as the house’s entrance swings open—Eddie helpless to do anything but follow behind Steve at this point—that he finds himself in front of a little hobbit as well.

A pipsqueak pulls the door back with a demanding sort of energy, his face is framed by tight brown curls shoved under a blue and white baseball cap and when he opens his mouth to speak, Eddie sees that his top front teeth are missing. “Steve?”

“Dustin!” Steve steps forward and roughly pulls the kid into his arms. Dustin’s expression looks like an echo of Eddie’s earlier bewilderment, but he gingerly reaches a small hand up to awkwardly pat him on the back.

Steve hangs there for an extra second before roughly clearing his throat and standing up again, though his hand continues to rest on Dustin’s shoulder. “Buddy,” he says, “you’ve got to help me out here: I’m a freaking time traveller.”

 

 

Notes:

💫Edit: A lot of people have said that they're coming back to reread Copper Boy and, if you do, I hope you drop me a line as you read through the chapters.

I wove in so many echoes into Steve and Eddie's story and I'd love to hear about what you see as they come to your attention💚 💫

 

Eddie when a roughed-up man suspiciously falls out of nowhere onto his carpet: oooo, pretty boy😍

Chapter 3: A Sound of Thunder

Summary:

Last chapter, Steve fell through time from 1986 to land at Eddie's feet in 1984. This chapter, they'll enlist Dustin's help.

Notes:

As of today's posting, I'm proud to announce that the ending has been written for A Tarnished Copper Boy. I still have a lot of work to go to rewrite scenes and edit it so it's ready for you, but updates will be regular and weekly (barring any life circumstances).

So, I hope you continue to read along with me, because I'm excited to go on this ride with you.

Before anyone can speak to Steve’s insane declaration that he’s a time traveller a short curvy woman appears behind Dustin with a warm smile. In the open entranceway of her home, her face is round and welcoming with lovely blonde waves that fall to her shoulders. “Dusty, are these your friends? It’s Steve, right? You’re dating Mike’s sister?”

Steve’s back straightens and Eddie snickers, wondering if this is Preppy Steve returning from under the rugged version that had appeared on his trailer floor.

“Mrs Henderson, it’s good to see you. Yeah, I know the kids and I have a science question for Dustin.” He unleashes the full Harrington smile, which Eddie has to admit is somewhat charming. “He’s so smart, I just knew he’d be able to help me out.”

Mrs Henderson beams and shoos them through the door with a beckoning hand, “Of course, my Dusty is very clever. Mr Clarke—that’s his science teacher—always says that he has the most unique questions in class. Come in, come in.”

Eddie looks curiously around the wide entranceway that curves into the living area and sees that his initial impression of a hobbit home continues. The inside is tidy and orderly with furnishings in earthy tones and photos scattered across the walls full of smiling people. It’s warm and inviting, Eddie thinks, much like Mrs Henderson.

However, even she falters as she finally gets a clear look at Steve, gaze flickering between mud-flecked combat boots up to the dirt-smudged around his face. He smells faintly like gasoline too, if Eddie’s being honest, so he can understand her hesitation.

He leans over, slinging an arm around Steve’s shoulder who jerks slightly before relaxing into his hold. “We’re just coming back from a camping workshop; you know, crawling through the under-bushes and whatnot. Steve has a question about…” Eddie scrambles to think of what one finds at a camping site, but Steve smoothly jumps in. “An animal we found,” he says, smiling. “We’re not sure if it’s a marsupial or not.”

“Oh, of course,” Mrs Henderson shakes off the frown that had started to form and walks ahead, clearly expecting them to follow. Steve makes wide eyes at Dustin who just shakes his head at the older boy, not understanding his wordless message.

Eddie leans across Steve’s chest, his arm still draped around his shoulders, and says quietly, “I think he wants to have this talk in private.”

“Ohhhh,” Dustin says noisily and with no hint of tact.

Steve turns to Eddie, shooting him a covert look of disbelief with a scoff and, for a moment, time stops around him. Arrested by the familiarity and comradery in Steve's dark eyes, Eddie can only stare. It’s an expression that speaks of a personal connection between the two of them that he has no point of reference for. It’s strange and oddly tempting.

Steve’s gaze sharpens and his mouth opens, but whatever he’s going to say is lost as Dustin loudly interrupts to inform his mom that they’re going to talk in his room instead. Eddie lets his arm drop heavily away as he follows Steve’s retreating shoulders into the deep of the house.

In Dustin’s bedroom, autumnal sunlight pours through long, narrow windows high up the walls and the warm yellows and browns of Mrs Henderson’s design continue to shine through. However, the kid has put his own spin on it with a working space dedicated to science and science fiction; scattered across it are half-open wires and batteries of all sizes with a scenic-looking ant farm, resting against a silver ham radio are two black walkie talkies, and a R2-D2 sits in the middle of an empty terrarium.

An orange and white cat is curled on the pillow of his bed, but it shoots Eddie a dirty look and saunters away after he collapses onto the single mattress, arms propping him up from behind and feeling the intense need for popcorn to watch this unfolding train wreck. The sunlight streaming into the room kisses Steve’s hair, making him almost glow as he paces in the short space.

Dustin frowns over at Eddie’s relaxed form, “Who’s he?”

Eddie blithely grins back, finding it hard to be concerned in the face of a ridiculous claim like time travel.

However, his smile briefly dips as he remembers the pained gravity in Steve’s voice as he said it hasn’t happened yet and not the right place or the right… time, Eddie belatedly fills in for Steve. Not the right place or time.

Steve throws a careless hand between them, seemingly impatient now that he’s closer to talking about the root of his issue. “Dustin, this is Eddie. Eddie, Dustin. Now that you’ve been properly introduced, can we circle back to my problem? I’m not from around here.”

“You’re a time traveller,” Dustin repeats doubtfully with a hint of scorn.

“Hey,” Steve points a finger at him, “don’t take that tone. I’m not out of my mind; I’m from 1986 and this is…” He glances towards the bed for confirmation, “1984?”

Eddie nods, but even as he wonders why he’s entertaining Steve a part of him can see the edge of uncertainty, of vulnerability, to him when he’d looked at Eddie. He thinks that maybe Steve is not as okay as he appears.

Dustin darts a glance at the bed before leaning closer to Steve and hissing in a whisper audible across the room, “Code Red?”

Steve nods grimly, “Code Red. I was coming out of the Upside Down in ’86 and I landed in Eddie’s trailer in ’84.”

Code Red seems to be important to Dustin because the kid looks more willing to believe Steve now, but he still hesitates. “And you’re not just…” Dustin waves a hand to encompass Steve and his party reputation, “I don’t know, drunk or something.”

Eddie barks out a laugh despite himself, “That’s what I said, kid.”

Dustin narrows his eyes at the moniker but is distracted when Steve huffs, crossing his arms and looking like he wouldn’t mind following it with a stamp of his foot. The frustration on his face is a little cute. “I’m not high. I’m not drunk. I’m in an Upside Down situation and you have to tell me how I can get back to where I’m supposed to be.”

Dustin squawks, “I’m not H.G. Wells, Steve. I don’t have a time machine in my basement, ready for you to go on a little trip back to the future. Wait.” He holds up a hand that is surprisingly commanding for someone so small, “Did you say you were in the Upside Down? Like Will last year? Easy then. If you came through a portal, then you just have to go right back through it. Bada boom.”

“Easy he says,” Steve mutters, pacing away before turning back to Dustin in irritation. “It’s not easy because the gate is gone. Vamoosed.” He shoots his hand up like it’s a rocket flying out of space. “Out of here. It’s supposed to be in Eddie’s trailer, but there’s nothing there.”

The two lock gazes and Eddie decides to interrupt before they start tearing each other’s hair out. “Did you say that other people had come in and out of this Upside Down? What about one of those?” he ventures while telling himself that playing along doesn’t mean that he believes this story.

It’s just that nervousness is starting to thrum so strongly in Steve that the air is almost palpable with it, and he doesn’t want Hawkins’ golden boy to completely lose his faculties.

“No,” Dustin sharply rebuts, “that would only mean he’s travelling through to the Upside Down in the present. They’re not time machines either.” He squints at Eddie again, turning to Steve to ask, “What’s so special about this guy’s place? Why’s a portal there.”

Eddie wouldn’t mind knowing why Steve chose his trailer of all places too and turns eager eyes to him. However, Steve barely opens his mouth before Dustin lets out a startlingly loud sound, hurrying forward to slap his palms against Steve’s mouth.

Steve recoils, dramatically spluttering, “Dude, gross.”

“Don’t say it!” Dustin shrieks. Eddie winces at the piercing tone.

“What?” Steve asks, looking as bewildered as Eddie feels at this abrupt about-face.

Dustin steps back to a low bookcase and pulls out a thin book with a yellow cover, on it is an icon of a half sun and moon with The Golden Apples of the Sun printed in bold black text underneath. He waves the book at the two of them as if that will make them catch up any quicker, “You’re going to step on a butterfly!”

Steve dutifully looks down at his feet and Eddie stifles a laugh, “I think he meant that metaphorically, big boy.”

Steve’s head whips towards him and an odd expression crosses his face before he reluctantly nods. Turning back to Dustin he says, “Use your words, man. What the hell are you going on about?”

“It’s a Ray Bradbury short story. This guy goes back in time, like all the way back to the Cretaceous period as a tourist, with a tour guide and everything. But he steps off the designated path and kills a butterfly and when he returns everything is different. One small change and the future is nothing like it was.”

Steve shrugs carelessly, doubt furrowing his brows, “Is that so bad? So, what, there were less butterflies or something when he returned.”

“No, Steve, it wasn’t just butterflies.” Dustin rolls his eyes, swatting the book through the air again as if waving away the thick fog he clearly thinks fills Steve’s head. “Before he went back in time, they had narrowly defeated a fascist who was trying to become president. But after that one minor change, the fascist wins and everyone’s acting differently. Who knows what you could do if you start telling us what happens in the future? You’d be stepping on butterflies left and right.”

Steve blinks rapidly, his face whitening to a chalky complexion, “This bad guy… he won because the time traveller changed a few small things? It was his fault?”

Dustin nods eagerly now that Steve’s getting it, “Directly his fault. They fall into a dystopia because the time traveller messed with the proper timeline, and it led to catastrophe!”

Steve wobbles, stepping back like he’s suddenly lost his footing. Eddie shoots forward to hastily grab him by the elbows, trying to stop Steve from falling on his ass. He gently shifts him over to sit on the bed and Steve falls heavily, looking down at his open palms for a long, silent minute.

Dustin raises his eyebrows in concern over Steve’s head to Eddie but Eddie just shrugs: this is their show, he’s just here as the ride and for the sad lack of popcorn.

Looking like he’s about to hurl, Steve finally speaks. “So… I can’t say or do anything or the worse outcome could happen. And I don’t have a way out of here either.” His voice is terribly hollow, vacant and distant like a cold star. “I’m stuck.”

The anxiety that had radiated from Steve has disappeared, but in its place is a tangible loneliness like a child abandoned in the middle of an empty field. It stirs unhappy memories, and greasy shame builds in Eddie’s chest. He shouldn’t be finding any amusement in Steve’s pain, whether it makes sense or not.

He reaches out a hand to Steve’s shoulder, jostling him in a friendly manner. “Hey, at least it’s only a couple of years. Lay low and before you know it, this will be all over.”

“Where?” Steve laughs without humour, still staring down at his hands. “Set myself up in Dustin’s basement? Sneak me 3-Muskateers and keep me like a pet.” He shoots his hand up to wave it in a frantic gesture at Dustin, “No, better yet, let’s rope your mother in. Just add me to Sunday dinners, please!”

“Mom’s roast is the best,” Dustin protests, more form than substance as he eyes Steve, obviously baffled about how to talk him down from his meltdown.

Eddie shoots the kid a warning look but Dustin blusters ahead, “But yeah, we could do that for a little while. It’s a very, very bad idea to introduce you to yourself in the present, so it’s not like you can stay in Loch Nora. That’s less a butterfly and more like a pterosaur.”

Steve’s anguish momentarily subsides in minor confusion and Eddie concurs. They both look up at Dustin blankly before he explains, “Flying dinosaurs. Jesus, what the hell do you study in high school?”

“Or you could stay at mine,” Eddie surprises himself by offering even as he hastens to add, “you know, just for the night or until this resolves itself. The trailer is small but maybe that portal will come back, and you can walk right through it back to your time?”

Eddie can already feel the guilt that will bury its hooks into his flesh if he leaves Steve to wander off today and later hears that he got in trouble or, worse, injured because he’s a little confused.

Steve blinks in surprise before a small smile graces his face, the lines between his brow softening slightly. “That’s really kind of you, Eddie. I think…” He turns to look at Dustin uncertainly, “I think it’s best if I stick around where the portal could reappear. Give it some time and, if it doesn’t, I’ll figure out what to do then.”

He ruffles his hair in a way that Eddie is quickly coming to recognise as a nervous gesture, “Maybe I’ll leave Hawkins after all. Get out of here and do my own thing.”

Eddie wonders why Steve sounds so sad as he says that. Isn’t the prospect of getting out of the hell that is small-town America a good thing? As soon as he gets that diploma, he’s out of here, only looking back because where Uncle Wayne is then Eddie will always circle around to. But only for short visits. Hawkins can suck his sweaty balls.

While Eddie has watched Steve, feeling helpless to do anything but bear witness to his distress, Dustin starts picking up energy in the background. Bouncing up and down on his toes, he mutters something before pouncing on the wireless radio on his desk.

“The guys are going to go insane,” he says, looking up with shining eyes. “I won’t say who or when, I promise. But this is going to blow their minds.”

Steve’s eyes widen in alarm and he bolts off the bed, shooting forward to quickly pluck the black plastic out of Dustin’s hands, holding it above his head. “No,” he almost shouts, startling the younger boy with the energy behind it. “No, Dustin,” Steve says more quietly, although an urgent undercurrent still thrums through his words. “Nothing can change.”

Dustin regains his composure enough to scowl, glancing at the radio that Steve’s playing keep-away with, “I’m not going to change anything. It’ll just be a theoretical, and it’s not like you’ve told me about any future events. I’ll make it into a story,” he decides, obviously off the cuff and thinking that the short, unconvincing excuse will fool Steve.

His curls bob as he darts forward to take back the radio, but Steve dodges back, shooting him a dirty look and pitching it in a soft underhand throw to Eddie.

Surprised, Eddie fumbles the device but thankfully—when he inevitably drops it, and he does—it falls onto the soft covers of the bed rather than breaking to pieces on the floor.

“Steve,” Dustin whines, “it’ll just be this cool story that I make up. I won’t even use your name, relax.”

Steve shakes his head, a grave mien falling around him. He hunches over the younger boy, hands on his shoulders and deadly serious. “You don’t understand how important this is, Dustin. We won something. It was terrifying and it was hard, but we won.” Eddie shivers at the awful sincerity in Steve’s tone even as he continues. “You can’t say anything to the guys, not even the smallest hint.”

Dustin’s face crumples, Steve’s words starting to penetrate his resolve. Steve nods sympathetically as he sees that he’s getting through to him, “You’ve got to forget this ever happened and just… keep being you. You’re brilliant and I know how hard it is for you to let go of something when it’s a puzzle, but if you talk about this then maybe that is the butterfly and maybe we don’t win. Maybe…” He swallows hard, the sound audible across the room. “Maybe even more people die.”

Eddie’s eyes widen, momentarily stunned by even more, but he thinks that Dustin doesn’t notice the slip at the end of Steve’s speech because he only nods in defeat, mouth moving into an accepting grimace. “Okay,” he mutters.

Steve eyes him doubtfully, “Not Mike or Lucas or even Will. Never, ever even think of dropping hints in front of me. Just forget that today ever happened.”

The youth that shines through in Dustin’s short stature and baby-faced features falls away to a maturity that Eddie hates to see in someone so young. “I won’t say anything and I’ll try to forget this ever happened,” he promises.

Dustin’s lips firm suddenly in determination, “In fact, I can’t believe you, Steve. Trying to trick me with such a stupid prank. You really are a— a—” For once his voice fails him and Dustin lamely concludes, “A complete douchebag.”

Steve smiles down at him with pride, relief loosening the tightness in his shoulders. “That’s right. It’s 1984 and I am a complete and utter douchebag. Thanks, Dustin.” He tousles his hair over the baseball cap, a gesture that looks well-practised.

Dustin smacks his hand away with a scowl, youth returning to his features once more and Steve laughs lightly, stepping back. “Be good, you little butthead,” he says before departing without fanfare, striding away.

Yet, Eddie sees the pain that flashes over his face once his back is turned to Dustin. Steve swiftly exits and, in the hallway, he begins to thank Mrs Henderson, politely declining the offer of a snack before they leave.

Thinking about that expression, a bearing full of repressed anguish and responsibility, Eddie doesn’t realise that he’s stood rooted to the spot until Dustin interrupts.

“He’s not that bad,” he says to Eddie, lips pursed like he thinks he doesn’t want to follow after Steve. “He helped out with the Upside Down last year, but he didn’t have to. He’s just Mike’s older sister’s boyfriend. Jonathan told Will that he even helped kill a demogorgon with a nail bat.”

His smile is gap-toothed and sweet, “That’s pretty badass.”

Eddie doesn’t think that Dustin literally means Steve fought a demon lord from the infinite depths of the abyss, but he makes a note to ask Steve about it later anyway. He’s also reminded that Steve said this kid would join Hellfire in the future. Even that he’d like him. And Eddie thinks that maybe he can see why, because, for all of his loudness and tone, Dustin seems to have a big heart.

“I’ll look out for him,” Eddie promises while slightly exasperated at himself for once more allowing a rise of sympathy to push him to watch over Steve Harrington who, on a normal day, would be perfectly fine taking care of himself.

Saying his goodbyes, Eddie steps from the earthy warmness of the Henderson home out into the bright afternoon light, feeling like he’s crossed through a portal himself. As if those moments in Dustin’s bedroom were an event outside of his own space and time. He shakes his head against the fanciful thought, striding over to his van where Steve is leaning against it.

With his foot propped behind him and a pensive expression sitting heavily on his face, he looks like Marlon Brando about to broodingly ask Eddie for a light.

For a moment, Eddie indulges in the thought of leaning in with a flickering flame pressed to a cigarette hanging on Steve’s soft-looking lips. Wonders what he’d do if he leaned in slow and close, all big eyes and heavy lashes.

Eddie shakes his head again, waving away the thoughts like smoke in the air; now is not the time. Ha. He jerks his head at Steve to get into the van, “Come on, let’s go back to mine.”

Distracted, Steve turns and hoists himself up. Eddie flips the stereo off as they reverse out of the drive, letting silence fill the air as they barrel down the back streets of Hawkins. He figures that maybe Steve has a lot running through his head right now and the thunderous roar of Judas Priest may be a bit much for him.

“Are you sure this is okay? Me staying for a few days?” Steve suddenly asks, watching Eddie intently. “You don’t exactly know me. We’re not friends or anything right now.”

Eddie feels a sharp sting like an unexpected prick from a sewing needle, drawing the tiniest drop of bright red blood. He frowns at the sensation. If he’d been asked two hours ago, then his swift evaluation of Steve and him would be that they are not friends. But this Steve, Rugged Steve, he seems cool. He’s sort of funny, a little sweet, and has a swathe of emotions running so deeply under the surface that Eddie wants to know what else he’s hiding.

“What about in the future?” Eddie asks instead, “we friends then?” He glances over at Steve, but the front seat is empty.

Eddie slams his foot down, the squeal of the breaks echoing loudly on the empty road.

They had been driving at 40 miles per hour down an asphalt road. Either Eddie didn’t notice the obvious movement of Steve clambering into the back of the van (unlikely) or he opened the door, rolled out onto the road, and magically closed the door shut afterwards (very fucking unlikely).

Or Steve disappeared into thin air, Eddie thinks with a racing heart.

Urgently twisting, he confirms that the back of the van is empty with only an amp and a blanket taking up one lonely corner. Falling out of the driver's seat in his haste, he stares out at the silent road. He looks left, right, and behind him, even stupidly glances up to the top of the van as if Steve’s climbed up there like an escape artist that’s about to do jazz hands and call out ta-dah.

Steve disappeared in a moving vehicle, leaving no trace behind.

Like a motherfucking time traveller.

Eddie’s knees buckle and he falls against the van, the asphalt hitting his backside painfully.

It was true.

It was all true.

Steve was from the future and now… has he gone back? He supposes? At least Steve won’t be trapped in his past, Eddie reasons, trying to find the bright side to this bizarre twist. He won’t be stuck on Eddie’s couch before heading out to travel America like some lonely, honour-bound samurai.

And if Eddie feels a small pang at not getting a chance to know Steve more… well, that’s between him and the empty road, because there’s no way he can talk to Present Steve, as he suddenly decides to call him. In no normal world would Eddie ever approach the king at school, other than to heckle the jocks tossing balls into laundry baskets.

No, upsetting the natural order stinks of butterfly carcasses.

Yet the regret hangs with him as he eventually pulls himself off the dusty road and into the van, driving home. It keeps him wide-eyed and awake through the night, thinking about what ifs.

The pang drives in a little harder as he spots Steve in the halls of Hawkins High; they even have history class together today and Eddie sees that, yes, he is assigned the seat directly in front of Steve.

He can’t help but look at him anytime their paths cross; Eddie once again the metal filling to Steve’s lodestone, a magnetic draw that he tries to keep hidden as he covertly stares. He sees it now too, that this Steve looks younger and smaller.

Maybe it had been the leather jacket and boots that Future Steve was wearing, but his shoulders had seemed broader and legs longer. Perhaps it was the grime around Steve’s face, but Eddie thinks that he loses some of that baby fat around his jaw in the next two years, becoming more defined.

He sees Steve one last time at the end of the day, sneaking up on Nancy Wheeler before grabbing her from behind with a cute little shout. Nancy laughs but Eddie thinks her heart’s not quite in it, her smile fading quickly as she turns back to her locker, grabbing the rest of her books.

Steve’s smile dips for a moment before he shrugs it off, moving to gently take the heavy bag from her. He catches Eddie’s eyes as he turns and stops to cooly raise a brow as if daring Eddie to comment.

That’s right, Eddie reminds himself around the pang, not friends.

He blindly turns, heart beating faster than the moment warrants and strides away. But it’s all so confusing and yesterday has become a moment in his life defined by before and after Steve. As if once Steve landed, groaning into his living room carpet, Eddie had become a different person.

He feels like that in those lost minutes yesterday he had started to make a friend. Someone interesting and possibly important to Eddie’s future, talking as if were an action hero, trying to save people in some unnamed war. But Eddie can’t discuss it with anyone; he knows he’ll be doing Dustin and Steve both a disservice if he goes back to talk to the kid.

He’s just going to have to swallow the awkwardness, Eddie decides, slamming the building’s door shut behind him to cross the parking lot. He blocks out the sound of Steve’s laughter as he exits shortly after as well, closing his ears and stomping on any other fragment of unwanted feelings in his body.

He’ll see Steve when he sees him in the natural order of things. Until then, he’s persona non grata. Just a jock and Eddie will continue to be the freak.

No interaction whatsoever.

 

Notes:

Steve and Dustin ready to pull each other's hair out while simultaneously trying to help the other is my sort of sibling energy😅🥰

~also, I can't stop imagining Steve standing on Eddie's van roof in the ta-dah moment, endlessly pulling out hankies like a magician 😂

Chapter 4: By His Bootstraps

Summary:

Last chapter, Dustin warned Steve against changing the timeline and Steve disappeared in front of Eddie's eyes.

This chapter, Steve returns, exhausted and scared, while Eddie cares for him.

Notes:

folks, your response has been so generous that I'm doing an early release this week xx

The opening riff of The Sentinel is precise and full of weight before it falls into a metallic cascade that softly thunders through the trailer. Eddie taps a restless foot along with the ferocious drumming as he sits at the desk in his darkening bedroom. Contemplatively unwrapping its box, he reflects on the grey figurine in his hand.

The plastic monster from the D&D universe is a newly bought demogorgon. Two leering baboon heads perch above a torso that explodes with four sinuous, tentacle-like limbs, and a forked tail snakes behind the body. Tracing its snarling fangs, Eddie broodingly thinks about a young boy defending an older one.

The song ends and Eddie flips the cassette over to the B-side, keeping the volume lowered in respect for their neighbour, Catherine. She had stopped by with a buttermilk pie and the request for one weekend without a headache before she heads out to her evening shift at the hospital.

Wayne had pushed Eddie aside, all aw shucks and I’ll make sure he will and oh, no, we couldn’t accept pie when we’re in the wrong. But Eddie had already stolen away with the treat and perched himself at the kitchen counter, fork deep in the smooth and tangy filling while he gleefully watched his normally impassive uncle stumble over his words.

Catherine has a brash sort of loveliness with her auburn curls and a sharp gleam to her eyes that Eddie respects. Despite the gift to sweeten her request, there had been a sensibly tart tone to what essentially amounted to a command. She had been dressed in her usual practical pants and jacket with low-heeled flats, but the combination of it all obviously does something for his uncle.

Really, Eddie had said later to a faintly flushed Wayne, he should thank him for playing his music so loudly. Wayne had just harrumphed and walked away, not willing to talk about his obvious crush.

Yet, despite the lowered volume, Halford’s muted vocals still soar, reaching and shredding sharp talons into the air, pulling the listener to him with relentless energy. It matches Eddie’s mood. Thinking of a guardian, standing defiantly against an impending darkness inevitable to his future, some event full of death that sends its soldier falling back in time.

Eddie sighs at himself in frustration, tilting back in the chair and throwing his bare feet up on the desk. It’s been a whole month since Steve disappeared from within his closed van, and he can’t stop thinking about him. His fixation evident in the piled notebooks next to his crossed ankles, full of scribbled lyrics and character ideas for a new campaign. One haunted by battles thick with smoke and screaming demogorgons while a distant hero stands tall, sworn to avenge but condemned to hell.

He scratches at a small tab of plastic on the miniature’s bulging leg that hasn’t come away clean. Eddie should be writing his essay on the illusion of wealth and the decay of the American Dream in the 1920s, but it holds little interest compared to the figurine in his hand. Wondering whether it’s an accurate representation of the creature that Steve has apparently fought and won against, with a bat studded full of nails of all the insane things.

It's such a down and dirty idea for a weapon. A chaotic and deadly contrast against the preppy senior Eddie is peripherally aware of at school. Who knew that the sneaky clean basketball captain and former swimming co-captain was capable of wielding a weapon crafted for maximum fear and brutality?

It’s sort of hot.

Eddie’s musings are abruptly shattered by a thud of impact followed by an unmistakable groan. His head snaps towards the direction of his door and Eddie nearly falls over his chair in his rush to get up.

Scrambling through the doorway he spies Steve sprawled out on the carpet, face down and in the same spot as last time. Rolling over, legs akimbo, he blankly stares up at the ceiling before Eddie eventually makes a noise that has him tilting his head up. He wryly smiles, “Surprise.”

“Steve!” Eddie rushes over, his hand already stretching to help him up. He gratefully takes it, groaning again quietly as Eddie pulls back and stumbles a little at his unexpected strength. For a beat, Eddie can only see the flecks of gold in Steve’s dark eyes, not the plain brown he had thought in the shadows of the Henderson home.

The long lashes around those eyes flutter a moment before Steve takes a step backwards, and he shakily laughs. “Thanks, man. That is not a smooth landing the second time round, either.”

“Where have you been?” Eddie asks, scanning Steve to make sure he’s not bleeding or broken from the fall. Oddly, he looks unchanged from when he’d seen him last. The same mud-splattered pants and boots, brown leather jacket over a hard, tactical vest, and even the dirt on his forehead and jaw are in an identical shape and place.

Steve laughs again, but it sounds unsteady. He falls back onto the couch, looking up at Eddie with vulnerability hinted at the corner of his mouth. “Could I get a water or something? I don’t think I’ve had anything to eat or drink for hours. It’s all catching up on me.”

Eddie steps back towards the kitchen, “Yeah, man. You want a sandwich as well?” He roots around the fridge and cupboards. “Uh, looks like it’ll have to be a PB&J. That okay? Not allergic or anything are you?”

Steve’s head is against the back of the couch, looking up at the ceiling for guidance again. Eddie feels an echo, a reminder of being captivated by that long stretch of skin last time too. “Yeah, that’s fine," he says, "PB&J sounds great.”

Eddie brings over the makeshift meal and Steve downs the water in one go before wolfing down the sandwich. He brings over another round and Steve takes it a bit more slowly this time, sipping the water and nibbling on the bread.

He looks Eddie up and down, noting his bare feet, blue plaid boxers, and Eddie’s black sleeping shirt, “Shit. You didn’t just come back from driving me to Dustin’s, did you.” He looks towards the slats open over the window, the light of the afternoon fading into a quiet darkness. An obvious contrast to the bright daylight that had washed over Steve the last time Eddie had seen him.

Eddie frowns, sitting on the brown couch and making sure that a few inches separate the two of them, “That was a month ago.”

Steve just nods grimly, a tendon in his jaw flexing as he processes the time that has passed.

“Steve?” Eddie reaches a tentative hand out to him, touching his wrist gently. Afraid to spook him, but it seems to wake Steve from his reverie, and he lets out a hoarse, humourless sound, “I was just in the van. So, I guess, good for me? I’m not going backwards at least.”

Weeks had passed for Eddie while Steve experienced seconds, if anything at all, but he’s right in at least one thing. “It’s good though, going forward. Do you think you’ll hang around this time?”

Steve quirks a sardonic eyebrow and Eddie flushes as he remembers that Steve knows just as much about time travel as Eddie does. Namely, what the pipsqueak had told them last time.

“Maybe? I don’t even know if this is good or bad. It’s just, I feel like I’ve come back from war and—” he squeezes his eyes tight, and Eddie hears him mutter something sounding suspiciously like ‘butterflies.’

Eddie decides that it might be best to redirect him from thoughts that aren’t going to help right now. “You want a shower? I can give you a change of clothes.”

Steve lets out a heartfelt moan, mouth falling open and eyes fluttering close. “I could kiss you, that’s a great fucking idea.”

Eddie’s cheeks flare hotly, and he hurriedly stands to move past Steve before the other guy can see the incriminating red on his face. He has no business watching Steve make a veritable o-face. “This way,” he calls, pointing to the bathroom door before heading to his bedroom, “Just leave your shit on the floor and I’ll put down something for you to wear by the door.”

The rumble of the shower starts, and Eddie steadfastly ignores the conjured image of a wet and soapy Steve in favour of finding fresh clothes for him to change into. They’d been in the living area long enough for the album’s B-side to nearly finish, the deep roiling beat of Heavy Duty pulsates through the room, the singer growling that he knows you like it hot, that you love to writhe and sweat.

Eddie reaches over and firmly slaps the stop button. Not helping to keep his thoughts clean. Ha.

Steve is clearly going through a rough time right now and he doesn’t need Eddie lusting after him like some deviant when what he likely needs himself is a pause button as he experiences time travel hell.

Eddie is listlessly tidying his desk when Steve walks through the bedroom door, hair damp but otherwise clean and dry. He looks up from organising the small paint pots for his miniatures, in order of rainbow, and realises his miscalculation. The borrowed navy sweats leave little imagination to the thickness of Steve’s thighs or the soft bulge between his legs, and the faded Dio t-shirt stretched across his broad chest is likewise tight around firm biceps.

But it is the unfurling tendril of possessiveness that surprises Eddie, the image of a freshly showered, attractive man in his clothes unravelling an unexpected thrill in his gut. That Steve looks soft and a little sleepy only makes the unexpected feeling dig deeper somehow.

Eddie swallows around the pool of spit that gathered in his mouth and motions towards the bed, “You look really tired, man. You want to have a nap or something?” And immediately understands that if seeing Steve in his clothes is enough to make him unsteady then seeing Steve in his bed is going to absolutely wreck him.

“I’ll just wait outside,” he hastens to add, not even waiting to hear Steve agree.

“Wait,” Steve grabs his hand before he flies away. “Stay?” His eyes are worn and a hint of fear shimmers underneath. “This is really scary,” he admits. “I don’t know what’s going on and I don’t know when I’ll suddenly disappear. Maybe I’ll just disappear for good? It’d be nice if there was someone familiar around.

Plus,” he adds with a weary grin, “You were probably busy before I intruded.” He peers around Eddie to nod at the desk that he'd been standing next to.

Eddie hears an echo of disappear for good and thinks that maybe he wants to watch over Steve while he sleeps too, make sure that he doesn’t pop out of existence under Eddie’s nose.

He banishes the nervousness bound to be in his tone with a business-like clearing of his throat. “Yeah. Yeah, that’d be fine. I was actually about to paint my demogorgon — a miniature, not a real one. Obviously. Because I don’t even know what that’s about, but Dustin said something?”

Steve’s blink is slow and edged with creeping exhaustion, “Yeah, that would have been just last year for him. Wow.” He shakes his head and the low lamp of the bedside table reveals hidden hues in the strands of his hair, a tawny richness suited to a golden crown. But Steve’s head seems to hang too heavily for such an unwieldy responsibility right now, and it doesn’t quite suit Eddie’s image of this version of Steve.

Steve moves with deliberate slowness, lowering himself onto the messy, turn-downed sheets while the old mattress creaks. He rolls onto his back, shifting to find the right position before quietly asking, “Have you spoken to him again?”

Eddie wanders back to his desk and straddles the chair. It lets out a small squeak in protest at the sudden weight. “No, you said not to. So, we haven’t. Avoided that side of town to be honest, just in case.”

Steve blows out a breath of relief, “Good, that’s good. Thank you. I haven’t even had a chance to think this through, but he scared me with that butterfly stuff.” The lids of his eyes become heavier, dropping close over fading eyes. “But I don’t want you to get hurt either,” he murmurs before falling asleep.

Eddie should look away, but he can’t just yet. Maybe a little worried that Steve will disappear and maybe just because he’s lovely to look at.

There’s no doubting the appropriateness of his royal moniker, Eddie thinks, as his eyes trace across that straight and sturdy nose, its regal line adding to the sculptured architecture of his face. But it’s his long, dark eyelashes that belie the untouchable strength that being a king denotes.

They cast delicate shadows over thin skin smudged with exhaustion. Each lash hints at another layer of mystery to this boy in Eddie’s bed, whose square face is a warm canvas affectionately kissed with small moles, like delicate constellations scattered across the night sky.

Eddie always did like staring up into the night.

He sighs, turning back to his desk and adjusting its lamp so that the light shines further away from Steve. Perhaps it’s time he started on that essay.

 

---

 

It feels like hours later, and Eddie must have fallen asleep at his desk because his neck is painfully bent, forehead pressed against a notepad and a warm, wet patch spreads beneath his open mouth. A broad hand presses through his thin shirt to gently shake his shoulder, “Eddie, hey Eddie, wake up man.”

“Mrmph,” Eddie unpeels his forehead from the paper and lets his head fall back, looking upside down at a sleep-creased Steve. He snorts, he can see right up through his nostrils. Steve’s eyes crinkle with affection, “Yeah, you’re out of it. Come on, you’re coming to bed.”

Eddie tries to shake the crust from his brain, the wisps of foggy sleep still sliding in and around his head, “You take the bed. Need it.”

Steve huffs out a laugh, winds an arm around Eddie’s shoulders, and hauls him up. Eddie flops over Steve, nuzzling into the warmth of the crook between his neck and shoulder, “Mrmph,” he repeats unintelligently.

“Uh huh,” Steve agrees. “So, this is what it’s like on the other side,” he further muses, humour clear in his voice while he manoeuvres Eddie onto the bed.

Steve settles onto the right side, which he had been sleeping on, and pulls the covers over the both of them, “We can share tonight. You’re gonna snap your neck if you stay at the desk.”

Eddie’s eyes are already shut, and he only has a second or two to think that there’s something he should object to before he’s out like a light.

 

---

 

It’s the morning light seeping through the curtains that eventually stirs Eddie, the sharpness of it piercing the dark behind his eyelids and waking him from the cocoon of sleep. The trill of a bird calling forth the day is interrupted by a slamming car door and raised voices, Eddie groans and nestles further into the hard pillow below his cheek.

The pillow rumbles with suppressed laughter and Eddie gradually becomes aware that underneath him is the broad chest of a man with an accompanying arm cradling his shoulder. The gentle strokes along his back, rhythmic and comforting, speak to a quiet intimacy lingering in the air.

The feeling is reassuring and makes Eddie even more reluctant to properly wake. He nuzzles deeper into the warmth, savouring the scent that surrounds him. It carries the familiar fragrance of his own washing powder but intertwined with another, more masculine musk, foreign yet inviting.

The strangeness of it has Eddie blinking further awake, a sudden cold wash rushing through him as he becomes horrifyingly sure that he had crawled into bed with Steve in the middle of the night and then crawled all over Steve this morning. Eddie’s eyes fly wide open, and he scrambles back from him.

Would have fallen over the edge too if Steve hadn’t quickly reached out and grabbed him, holding firmly onto his arms while Eddie uselessly tries to gesture with them. “Sorry! I didn’t mean to!” Christ, is Steve going to punch him or something?

“It’s okay. Hey — stop,” Steve shakes him a little since Eddie’s on the verge of a panic attack because he’d been snuggling Steve Harrington and he doesn’t remember when he’d slithered into bed with him, but he must have and now Steve’s going to think that he’s some pervert who’s drooling all over him.

Which, yeah, okay, he has done that a little, but it’s not like he wants Steve to think he’s taking advantage of his situation.

“Eddie, it’s okay. It was just a little cuddling, it’s fine,” Steve’s eyes are wide with concern, flickering over the fear that is surely writ large over Eddie’s face.

“I’m sorry,” Eddie repeats, “I don’t remember getting into bed with you.”

“You didn’t,” Steve assures him. “I moved you. I woke up and you were dead to the world, passed out over the desk. There’s enough room, but I didn’t realise it would freak you out. I’m sorry.”

He grimaces, “I didn’t think about how you might feel waking up with a strange guy in your bed, I’m sorry. Really.” He raps his knuckles against his head while making a sound like hollow wood being tapped, “Not a lot going on up here and sometimes I act before I think.”

Eddie exhales a shaky breath, Steve put them in bed together. Not Eddie. He can work with that. “It’s okay,” he says, but he’s not certain how sure his smile is, and he needs to try and style this out, so he accompanies it with a light-hearted wink. “You’re a great cuddler.”

Steve's cheeks pinken and he scrubs his hand through his hair, “That’s one thing I can offer, at least.”

Eddie very casually rolls out of the bed, picking his way towards the bathroom, “Not the way I hear it from the ladies, Casanova.”

He hears a snort behind him followed by a muttering too low to catch, but Eddie’s fairly sure he’s walking out with his dignity intact, which is more than he thought he would at the outset of that heart-stopping moment. Fuck, Steve smells good and damn it, he had been nice to cuddle.

Before Eddie freaked out.

He rubs at his chest, his heart starting to slow down. Really, he should take this as a win. Snuggling a pretty boy is not the worst way to wake up. And when said pretty boy doesn’t seem to mind sharing a bed, albeit out of pity for Eddie’s poor neck than any sort of attraction, well that’s not too bad either.

He takes a piss before quietly making a couple of bowls of Honey Crunch. It’s getting late in the morning and Wayne is asleep on the sofa bed. A steady drone of snoring emanates from under the rolled covers, covering the man like a burrito. Eddie idly wonders whether Catherine would mind having two blankets in bed, rather than sharing.

He tries to be quiet because, while Wayne is pretty good at filtering out sounds after years of this arrangement, Eddie still wants to respect his space as much as possible. The old man had taken him in when he was a shivering mess, all coltish limbs and terrified in the face of the unknown. Wayne had taken one look at him and had declared that Eddie needed his space in their home, a place to make his own.

It had made Eddie more secure than he had ever thought to understand at that moment. After all, Wayne’s unlikely to kick him out when he has a room designated especially for Eddie. So, he tries to pay him back where he can, money for utilities and silence in his sleeping area.

Steve is flipping through a book as Eddie edges the door open and closed, juggling the bowls over for Steve to grab. He places the book back on the bedside table beside a small mound of pens and digs into his cereal, “Thanks, I’m starving.”

Eddie decides that retreat is the better part of valour and settles on his desk chair rather than risking the bed. He raises one knobby knee to his chin and contemplatively eats his breakfast. “I see you found my new Heinlein collection,” he nods towards the book Steve had put aside.

On its cover, two naked figures are roughly shaded in, framed by sharply dissecting lines while a cloud forms in the background. It has a blooming red centre.

Steve looks down at it, “Ah, yes. The exploding asshole collection of short stories.”

Eddie spits out a spray of milk as he honest to goodness lets out a loud guffaw. The cloud with its red middle point, shooting out straight lines, does look like an exploding asshole now that it’s been pointed out.

Steve grins, seemingly pleased with himself.

Eddie snickers while wiping his chin clean, “Yes, well, other than the unfortunate cover design, I got it because of you actually. The second story, By His Bootstraps, has a time travel plot like the one Dustin mentioned.”

“Yeah?” Steve frowns down at it as if it could contain real explosives, “Any butterflies in this one?”

“Nah, it’s sort of the opposite. Like whatever you do, whether it’s in the past or the future, it's inevitable. A fixed point in time that can’t be changed no matter how much you struggle against it.”

“Struggle?” Steve asks uneasily.

“Yeah, Bob, the protagonist, he goes back and forth in time while coming across these pricks.” Eddie traces the edge of his bowl with the spoon before dropping it into the sweetened milk. “One guy who tries to get him into trouble with petty pranks and another who’s a boss sort of guy from the way far out future.”

Eddie snorts, “Even calls himself Diktor — get it, dictator. Anyway, Bob’s just trying to survive as he goes back-and-forth in time, but the more he tries to change what’s happening the more obvious it is that every event has already happened.”

Steve shakes his head, holding up a hand, “Wait, I don’t get it.”

Eddie hums, thinking about how to explain it as he places his bowl to the side. Holding his hands in the air like it's a circular clock, he positions his finger up at midnight. “So Diktor is a chief of the future, has slave ladies and everything." He moves his finger to the imaginary six, neatly sectioning it in half. "And he tricks Bob into going through a time portal and sort of steers him towards decisions that Bob didn’t intend. With me so far?”

Steve nods with furrowed eyebrows, concentrating on Eddie's hands.

“Right. And Bob resists because he doesn’t like how Diktor’s manipulating him." Eddie slides his finger around to just before midnight, hovering in a wagging motion like it's waiting to move forward. "He hates it so much that he travels to the future ten years before Diktor himself arrives so that he can become the boss. Because, if he's in charge, then Diktor can't mess with him anymore."

Triumphantly, Eddie slides his finger back into the original midnight position. "But by doing that Bob actually becomes Diktor — which is the name for chief in the future-world’s language.”

“Shit!” Steve’s mouth hangs open and Eddie nods excitedly, dropping his pretend clock. “Yeah, what a fucking plot twist. So, Bob is destined to turn into Diktor who will inevitably harass his past self so he can once more — become Diktor. It’s a loop and there’s no origin because they just keep going around and around in an eternal circle.”

Steve pales and Eddie reigns in his excitement, reminded of Steve’s reaction to the Bradbury theory. This is all very real to Steve, not just a thought experiment as Eddie had first allowed himself to think of it.

“So,” Steve begins, “I could reach 1986 and then just start falling again until I meet you last month, going to the beginning of a loop.”

His head falls into his hands, and he continues to say, muffled, “I might forget everything and start all over again. Or maybe, it'll be weirder than that. Maybe I’ll just get older and older while still hitting the floor of your trailer. Then they’ll be like fifty of me everywhere and I’ll never escape, I’ll just be the boy in a never-ending fall, in the wrong time—”

“Hey, Steve, hey.” Eddie shoves off his seat and hastens onto the bed, crawling until he’s hovering over Steve, hands outstretched but unsure what to do with them.

Steve peeks up at Eddie through his hands, his voice full of anguish, “You don’t get it, Eddie. I’m not clever enough to work this out. I’m either going to step on a bug and he’s going to win, and everyone is going to die or we do win, great, but I’m stuck falling onto your floor for the rest of my life.” He laughs hysterically, “Either option is pretty fucking grim.”

Eddie looks down at Steve, scared and looking a hair's breadth away from losing his mind and thinks fuck it. He scoops Steve into his arms, drawing his head down onto his chest. Steve immediately circles his arms around Eddie, a tight band pulling them together. He can’t hear it, but from the slight shuddering of his shoulders and the wetness starting to soak through his shirt, he knows that Steve is silently crying.

It breaks his heart a little that he’s hiding it so well.

Gingerly and because his spine is starting to ache, Eddie inches down until his back is against the headboard, feet spread out and Steve practically in his lap. He’d only have to move one leg and Steve would be straddling Eddie, but he simply shuffles so that his upper body is stretched out with his head in the crook of Eddie's shoulder. He snuffles a little.

Knowing how embarrassed he feels when he cries, Eddie mildly offers Steve some advice, “My shirt is soft and easily washed, much like a handkerchief. Go at it.” He hears a watery chuckle and Steve suddenly feels less stiff in his arms. He can’t help but smile that he was able to lessen Steve’s tension just a little bit.

Gently, Eddie smooths one hand down Steve’s back, a repetitive motion designed to give simple comfort. Steve’s trembling breathing has ebbed and tears stopped by the time he draws back. His eyes are puffy and nose red, and Eddie lies, “Well, thank fuck something is fair. You can’t be hot all the time.”

Steve chortles, briefly burrowing down into Eddie’s chest and dramatically smearing his nose against the shirt. “I’m always hot, shut up.”

Eddie hums a neutral sound, “You know you’re not alone, right? I’ll help you.” Steve stills in his arms. “If nothing else, I clearly can’t get rid of you.”

This must be the wrong thing to say because Steve becomes rigid once more and he pulls out of Eddie’s arms. Drawing away to sit with his back against the headboard too. Although his face is slightly averted, Eddie can see the downturn to his mouth.

“That’s me. Like a bad smell, hanging around long past where I’m welcome.”

Sometimes Eddie feels allergic to sincerity and his usual knee-jerk reaction is to crack a joke, but he’s not a total idiot and is maybe capable of learning from his mistakes. It's clearly a sore spot that he pressed on while trying to lighten Steve’s mood, so Eddie takes a deep breath and feels out the words before he says them.

“I’m glad,” he says. Steve’s eyes cut to him, unsure and a little suspicious.

“I know we’re not friends right now, but I hope that we are where you come from. Because I think we could be good friends, and maybe friendship usually doesn’t involve time travel and its dire consequences, but I’m willing to brave that because I think you’re probably a good dude, Steve Harrington. Rich, popular guy like you, it sort of flies in the face of the Munson doctrine. But I think you are and, if it’s okay, I’d like to help.”

Steve’s eyes flicker over Eddie’s face like he’s trying to divine his honesty. “You know, you’ve said something similar to me before.”

Eddie smiles smugly, “So, you’re saying I’m consistent.”

“I’m saying that I think I’d like to be your friend too,” he sighs, tipping back his head with his eyes closing, “I for sure don’t have the smarts to work this out though. What do you think I should do?”

“I’m barely passing senior year a second time, man. I don’t think I’m the egghead you’re looking for.”

Steve doesn’t open his eyes, but his voice is disgruntled, “That’s clearly bullshit. I know that a guy who runs his own business—”

Eddie snorts at being called a business owner for dealing a little weed on the side.

Steve ignores him to continue, “—and a school club too is probably resourceful, imaginative and, honestly, if you can corral the little buttheads in Hellfire, you automatically have my respect.”

Eddie is deeply flattered, never having thought to see himself in the way that Steve paints him; the unexpectedness of it causes him to blush a deep crimson colour that he can feel spreading from his cheeks towards his chest.

It’s already a heady feeling, and Steve continues, “You can quote complicated novels that Dustin might one day convince me to read, but I’m not looking forward to. And you’re kind. That counts a lot in my book.”

Eddie looks away from Steve, unable to bear the sincerity on his face and the honesty in his voice. Eddie may not be a bad guy, and he’s a lot better than some of the rich assholes or outright bullies at his school, but it’s another thing to hear someone sincerely lay out all the reasons that they think you’re a smart and good person.

He clears his throat because he’s sure that if he tries to speak first then his voice is going to crack like it hasn’t since he passed the worst woes of puberty. “That’s… thank you.” He says, unable to think clearly but perhaps redirection is called for before he combusts. “Not a time travel expert though. But let’s try pulling this tangle apart.”

Steve looks tired already, but he nods and gestures for Eddie to start them off. “Okay,” he ticks the points on his fingers, “one, you come from a time where something bad happens, but you or your crime-fighting team win the good fight. Two, the Bradbury theory says that you can’t change anything otherwise you may lose said fight and you’ve mentioned that that’s a bad thing.”

Steve watches Eddie, a grave mien hanging over him, his sombreness lending credence to Eddie’s image of him as a soldier at war. “World endingly bad, yes.”

“Third,” Eddie hastily continues, trying to shake off the idea of an event so terrible it can end the world, because he doesn’t think Steve was using hyperbole. “Heinlein’s theory says fuck it, do what you want because you can’t change a thing so you’re going to win no matter what you do.”

“They’re both on the opposite spectrum of what I can choose to do though and it’s not like we know whether either theory is correct, this is all just based on fiction.” Steve pauses, grimacing, “We may not be time travel experts, but there are other people out there who could be. Science people”

“Like Dustin?” Eddie asks, confused at how many smart pipsqueaks there are in Steve’s fellowship. “Do you have like a gaggle of geniuses in your family or something?”

Steve laughs ruefully, “No, though I do babysit a bunch of smart-asses, Dustin being one of them. No, there are these government agents who would probably have something to say about it. But they’ve been the cause of all this more than the solution before. I’m not sure that I can trust them.”

“Good call,” Eddie says, faithful to the anti-establishment, “and if the Bradbury theory holds true then involving the government is a big freaking butterfly.”

“So,” Steve says slowly, “if I do what I want to do and try to save the people who have died in my time, I could be Bob or Diktor, whoever: they die all over again regardless, but—good news—we still win. Or I try to save them and, in doing so, I step on the butterfly: maybe I save them, maybe other people die instead, and we don’t know what happens after that.”

Steve scrubs a hand over his face in frustration, “I have the chance to save people, people who died in horrible ways, and talking this out makes me feel like I think I’m God or something. Deciding who gets to live or die.”

“It’s beyond your feelings though, isn’t it,” Eddie hates to add, but he thinks it needs to be said. “There’s the third outcome: you try to save those people, but they die and even more after that because you didn’t stop the world from ending. That’s what this is about, right? The bad guy you mentioned. You said he’s going to kill everyone. That didn’t sound like a figure of speech.”

Steve’s lips thin like he’s holding back his words and, considering that he’s still on the fence about what he can say or do, Eddie figures that he probably is. “Yeah, it's not just an expression, this has real consequences. I have to go with the butterflies, don’t I? In the end, my strategy should be avoidance because we won the championship and if I change out the players then we might lose this time instead. That’s the worst-case scenario. The best case is that I still let people die, but he’s also beaten and that’s better. It’s better for everyone, but… shit, it still sucks.”

Steve looks so defeated, tired and worn and Eddie can’t help but feel that letting people die is more responsibility than a young man like Steve should be taking on. Eddie reaches out to squeeze his hand, urging him to feel that he’s not alone. He has Eddie, at least for right now. “It does suck. And I’m sorry, I’m so sorry that you go through what you do. But yeah, I think you’re right. You’re gonna have to watch where you step.”

Steve squeezes back, a steady connection between the two of them. “What about you? I don’t have a magic wand to erase your memory, and you now know a lot more than you should.”

Eddie nibbles on his lip while he thinks. He doesn’t feel like his wings have been squashed under a boot, but that’s the point. They won’t know whether his talks with Steve, getting to know him before he should, will change the timeline. But from what Eddie can see at this point, the milk has been spilled and there’s no point in crying over it.

He looks up to share his thoughts and catches Steve quickly averting his eyes away, a light blush spreading over his cheeks.

“There’s nothing we can do about it,” Eddie says, ignoring whatever was going on with Steve. “You probably shouldn’t tell me any big events before they happen, but I know the basic outline. I already know you to a certain extent.”

“So just keep it simple,” Steve ventures.

“Yeah, like I can’t know when we get to be friends,” he winks at Steve who responds with a light laugh, “or whether I’m involved in all this.” By the way Steve averts his eyes again, Eddie can guess that he is. “I suppose that my place is at least in the firing path since you said the portal is here?”

Steve thinks for a moment, “I don’t think I can tell you much about that either. It’s too close to what we’ve been talking about. But I do get to know you, you’re right. A little bit in the future.” For the first time since they started talking about Bob slash Diktor and his unfortunate time adventures, Steve’s smile brightens.

“And I know that we become friendly in a couple of years,” Eddie adds mischievously.

“Yes, but I’m not saying when,” Steve responds in a similarly playful manner.

“No,” Eddie agrees mock-solemnly, “stay on the time tourism’s path and away from prehistoric bugs.”

“I think Dustin said crusti-saurus.”

“Cretaceous.”

“See, I said you were smart,” Steve says with a twinkle in his eye, like he’s joking again but not at Eddie. It stirs something in Eddie’s gut, taking flight and fluttering in his throat. He flops back onto his pillows to escape the inconvenient feeling.

“Well, it seems like it’s actually you who’s stuck with me,” he turns his head to gauge Steve’s reaction but notices a dark maroon patch on his white and blue striped sheets. He reaches out to finger it, dry to the touch. Looking up he asks, “Steve, are you bleeding?”

But Steve’s not there.

Again.

The only trace of him is left in the indent of where he had been sitting against the pillow that had sat between his back and headboard, puffing out as it gradually expands into its original shape. Eddie lays a hand on the mattress; it’s still warm from Steve’s missing body.

 

 

Notes:

Steve is so tired and needs a hug. luckily Eddie's got him covered 🫂

Chapter 5: Bitter Serpentine Beast

Summary:

Last chapter, Steve disappeared again but not before the boys decided that the best way forward is to avoid changing anything in the timeline, so that the future big bad remains defeated.

This chapter, Eddie unhappily watches Steve from the present while Tommy confronts Eddie at Hawkins High.

Notes:

cw: homophobic language, violence

Eddie thinks he may be going a little crazy thinking about the stain that Steve left on his bed two weeks ago. Stumbling into the bathroom that morning, he’d found a small pile of blood-stained bandages stuffed into the bathroom bin too, immediately ratcheting up his alarm to near panic. He’s since forced it to settle into a low-level anxiety that nonetheless persists, a pervasive presence curling and twining at the base of his spine.

He can’t decide whether seeing Present Steve helps to relieve his concern or simply encourages Eddie to concentrate on it, like worrying at a loose tooth. Even today, watching an unwitting Steve play in the shirts versus skins basketball game below him, proves only to be a distraction by increments.

Eddie’s gaze often helpless to do anything but follow him, eyes dipping to his short green shorts, riding high above rippling thigh muscles, the scattering of hair on Steve’s legs creating an enticing shadow before being hidden away underneath high, white tube socks. Honestly, the outfit’s almost indecent and Eddie tears his gaze away before he becomes provoked enough to do something stupid like unroll his tongue and howl at the moon.

As he does, he catches the mildly annoyed look that Coach Harbour shoots him, perched as he is mid-way up the bleachers. One clasped hand around a clipboard, gut hanging over his jeans, and whiskers twitching in tired irritation for the least athletic boy in this class, including Asthmatic Brett two rows below Eddie who has his nose buried in a blue binder.

He happily hangs back though while Coach pretends to believe that Eddie has a similar medical excuse; the last time Harbour forced him to participate, he’d ended up with a bloody nose from falling into a wall. No one had been near Eddie, he’d even half-heartedly been running towards the centre of the action, but he’d managed—in an absolutely unsurprising turn of events—to trip on air and ram face-first into brick.

A truly stellar moment in his school career that Eddie only survived the searing embarrassment of because no one had seemed to notice but Coach. In his gym uniform, shoulders bare of black leather and fingers bereft of heavy silver rings, Eddie is invisible within the crowd of students at Hawkins High School.

Now, Coach pityingly allows him to sit on the sidelines, and, out of respect for the privilege, Eddie refrains from heckling whenever someone’s throw bounces off the rim.

The shouts of cajoling players reverberate through the space as Steve catches the ball and, in one smooth turn, deftly sinks it through the net. Shawn Stanton high-fives Steve and Eddie looks away from the sliver of skin that’s shown as his shirt rides up, reminded that whatever injury Future Steve has, it’s in a place that Eddie couldn’t see at the time.

He traces it at night, the remnants of the bloodstain he’d not been able to scrub out. Like it’s an augury of death and destruction, an omen that will allow Eddie to read the future if he only interprets the lines and shades of it correctly. Hoping that Steve has landed safely back into his time; closing his eyes shut against the growing conviction that Steve is somewhere, sometime bleeding out, alone.

A small, shameful part of him wants Steve to fall back onto his living room carpet. He wants to hear that thud and groan and see Steve’s wry smile, maybe comfort him in his arms again.

The guilt of it hangs low in his gut, a sour ball lodged deep and weeping, because, whatever the catastrophe that happens in the future, Steve is obviously deep in its trenches and deserves to rest. Not forever doomed to fall on Eddie’s shitty trailer floor without so much as a cushioned landing.

He's thought about it, mulling over how he could drag pillows and blankets into the living room. Make a soft cloud for Steve to land on, fit for a man falling through the sky. But, with his uncle sleeping in the living room, the idea is impractical, and he has no idea how he’d begin to explain the installation to Wayne.

For now, he hopes that Steve falls safely back into his own time while also secretly wanting to see him again. A small, forbidden puff of wishful air against a dandelion in the dark.

Shawn is shoved by an opposing skin’s team member, falling to the ground and the coach’s whistle blows as they make sure that he’s all right. He shakes his blonde head, saying something to Michael Chrest that makes the other guy laugh before he swings up, dusting his shorts and ignoring the red of his knees. He won’t need first aid today.

Though if he needs it, Eddie now has a set-up at home that would be more than capable of taking care of his injury. Buying it had wiped out the stash he was saving for a new amp, but at the persistent anxious hum, Eddie had caved and bought a full first aid kit in preparation should Steve fall, injured, to him again.

As large as a small travel suitcase, the brilliant green of the cover blares conspicuously from the corner of his room. Inside are six self-contained modules, colour-coded and carefully outlined with its contents of bandages, gloves, swabs, tape, pads, gauze, and gel packs. Eddie’s not even sure of the difference between half of it, but it comes with an inventory list and covers everything from cuts and grazes to burns and initial trauma care.

That trauma care is an option, actual wounds caused by something like gunfire with objects potentially lodged in Steve’s body, has the curl tightening uncomfortably around his spine. He’s borrowed a first aid book from Hawkins Community Library to study up on the key concepts, but Eddie suspects it’s not going to cover something that deadly.

Turning over ideas like bullets and open injuries, blood and bones, has his mind spinning, unable to settle on classwork and even distracting him from Hellfire and band practice. Eddie blames his preoccupation on how closely he watches Steve now, even outside gym class. Because if the preppy king is strutting the hallways then Eddie can breathe again, a buoyant force until his thoughts close the circuit right back to that dark stain on his bedsheets.

The frustration of his powerlessness against his mind’s obsession is only further aggravated by a persistent thin needle of envy, pricking whenever he watches Steve lounge a possessive arm around Nancy’s shoulders. But at least the latter is warranted and not unusual: straight boys get to hang onto straight girls, and Eddie can easily swallow that sting down like the everyday poison that it is.

Startled out of his thoughts by a loud shout, Eddie’s focus falls on Billy Hargrove aggressively dribbling through a cluster of defenders, bronze skin glowing in the autumnal light and the lines of his body revealing a deliberately sculpted body. It shows a dedication to working out that makes Eddie want to break out into hives.

Whatever attraction Eddie may have entertained for his toned, muscular body is undercut by the unsettling anger that roils underneath Billy’s skin. Whenever Billy is near him, the hair on the back of Eddie’s neck rises at the palpable aura of danger that dances in the air around him. Eddie knows what cruelty looks like and Billy’s eyes betray a chilling intensity that he wants nothing to do with.

Not that Billy has ever noticed Eddie, especially not when Steve is anywhere in the vicinity. Billy walks through Hawkins High like he’s hot shit; like he doesn’t notice that he becomes a well of gravity whenever he passes a group of giggling girls. But should Steve appear in his periphery then those snake eyes tighten and focus, his body often following to coil around Steve in an unsettling performance that Eddie figures he’s supposed to think is enmity.

It happens again as Steve careens down the court with the ball, his face alight with the joy of competition and shirt stained by the sweat of his exertion. Eddie can almost see Billy’s eyes light up at the chance and he speeds forward, coming to box Steve from behind with his arms outstretched in a parody of an embrace.

Ostensibly the tactic is to secure the ball back for the skin’s team, but as the seconds pass the manoeuvre turns into a goddamn conversation with Billy practically rubbing up Steve’s backside in front of God and everyone. It’s all in the name of good honest heterosexual rivalry, right? Eddie thinks bitterly. Because no one is shooting Billy dirty looks or calling him a fag.

He bites down on the injustice of it, the bile of unfairness rising to a red in his cheeks and likely in his eyes too as it develops into a sour anger.

If he went around shoving sophomores into lockers and generally being an insufferable asshole, then maybe he could touch Steve too. Talk to him without being labelled a covetous freak. Eddie glowers at Billy’s wild grin because the quiet envy that had felt small and warranted when watching Steve with Nancy is unfolding into a bitter, serpentine beast. A savage creature with gnawing teeth that eats sharply away at Eddie’s vulnerable gut.

The jagged gash allows poison to spill into the soft meat and open blood of his body, fuelling the convictions that Eddie knows in the deep of his heart: he’s a lonely, feral boy who will only ever be allowed to live at the fringe of the normies. Only afforded a begrudging dignity as long as he knows his place, and that is far from the glowing centre of good parents, good home, good looks. Good means golden and Eddie has always been a tarnished copper.

He roughly scrubs a hand down his face, trying to get his anger under control, the rising heat of it threatening to spill like a tsunami. Old feelings and tired thoughts like these are only a pointless exercise in hurting himself. Wayne has taught him better.

A hard thud resounds through the air, the excited shouting of the boys stilling, and Eddie looks up from his covered eyes to see that Steve has fallen to the floor. Billy leans over him with one strong hand outstretched in camaraderie. Steve accepts the gesture, taking it in good faith.

Billy’s demeanour immediately converts into unapologetic condescension. He heatedly whispers words into Steve’s ear and pushes him violently back to land on the polished floor, a calculated look of disdain crosses his face before he strides away. Smirking, Billy cockily joins a group of laughing boys on the other side of the court.

Eddie hates him.

Fiercely and full of ripe heat. He hates how he acts towards Steve, curling in around him like he’s trying to block out the sun. Is full of rage at how he’s allowed to treat Steve, no one shooting him suspicious glances for long touches and faces so close they’re sharing the same breath.

Feels ready to explode from the wrath thundering through his body that Billy gets to safely exist no matter the vile anger that he carries, while Eddie will always have to hide, hide, hide. Conceal the foul and loathsome parts of himself lest he be tossed to the floor too, abandoned by the wayside again.

At the reminder, Eddie drags his furious gaze away from Billy to check on Steve. He’s just hauled himself onto his feet and is spearing his bronze hair away from his face when he glances up. Looking across the gym he accidentally catches the fierce glare still present on Eddie’s face. Recoiling automatically, Steve glances behind him but, at seeing that there is no one else there, his shoulders drop, and he turns his head away.

Eddie immediately blanks his expression, but the damage is done and Steve refuses to look back up at him as he moves towards Eddie's direction, the path to the locker rooms to his left. He tries to keep his gaze straight, pretending that he’d never even looked at Steve, but a dreadful urge has Eddie’s lips parting as Steve begins to walk past.

In that awful mix of missing Future Steve, hating himself for wanting him back even injured and displaced in time, and ignited by his fury at pricks like Billy who, under the guise of masculine rivalry, get to talk to and touch Steve, Eddie’s stupid mouth strikes.

He wants his attention, is all. Just for a moment, he wants to hear Steve speak in a clear, uninjured voice, and to talk with Eddie like he’s not an invisible nobody to him at this junction of time. He clears his throat and says the only stupid fucking thing that occurs to him as he looks out into the brightly lit gym, “Good game, Harrington.”

Steve pauses, looking up at him incredulously while he works his jaw. Finally, he says in a low, hard voice, “Fuck off, Munson,” before striding away, out of sight once more.

Eddie drops his forehead into his palm, hiding in the dark of it as all the gnawing jealousy and confusion drops away into a cold cavern of self-loathing. Yeah, he’d deserved that.

 

---

 

Nearly a month after Eddie’s failed attempt to speak to Steve, he finds himself shuffling through the mess in his locker, shaking off one strangely sticky piece of paper onto the school floor. He is trying, with very little success, to find his pre-calc homework.

Gareth Emerson, their newest member of Hellfire this year, lounges beside him, back propped against the silver metal walls and gesturing with excited hands.

The younger boy has taken to cutting the arms off his flannel shirts, and Eddie has a sneaking suspicion that he’s imitating his own denim vest covered in pins of solidarity with movements, bands, and generally rude phrases that make him giggle. That a Quiet Riot band pin has appeared on Gareth’s red flannel today converts that suspicion to conviction.

“I just think that it would be really cool if I went against the grain, you know. Like, Thokk is a grumpy bastard — he’s honourable, but he wants to make a name for himself too. A half-orc is just as fearsome and intimidating as a full-orc, so screw his tribe.”

Eddie absently hums at the sophomore, whose curly brown hair around his baby face bounces in animation. He has it, he knows he’s done it. While the mathematics of it all does very little to inspire Eddie, he’d learned by the end of last year to pretend that algebraic functions are the first step to rune casting: establish the right number or variable and divine whether it’s chicken nuggets or sloppy joes for lunch, remember the determinant and enhance intuition on whether Mr Mundy is going to be an asshole about forgetting his worksheet today.

He knows he did Mundy’s assignment so clearly the spell was well cast because his intuition is telling him that he’s going to get a big fat zero for not handing it up.

“So, I want to make him accidentally charming, liked despite himself and he becomes a real ladies’ orc. All the girls want him, and all the boys want to be him.”

Eddie finally catches on and turns to Gareth scowling, “No. And, I have a free, but aren’t you supposed to be in class.”

He glances around, the hallway has begun to empty, the faint sound of laughter and chatting teens fading away, taking with them the clash of perfumes and cheap cologne, leaving only the distant hum of fluorescent lights overhead.

The cold illumination bores down on the last remnants of Halloween, exposing the faint trace of last week’s holiday now reduced to peeling jack-o’-lantern decals and weathered paper bats clinging tenaciously to the walls.

Gareth ignores Eddie’s pointed observation and continues to try to convince his DM of a frankly absurd swing in his character. “You always say that role-play—the background and motivations—are what makes a good character.”

“I also say that you rolled an absolute abysmal seven for Thokk’s charisma stats and that’s before the two-point penalty. I’ve only seen worse when Jeff rolled four snake eyes on intelligence.” Eddie grins at the memory, it had been fun setting up the bumbling elf cleric for obvious scams and transparent lies. Jeff had looked like he was going to blow a gasket for a month straight.

“So do it to confuse the rest of the club,” Gareth suggests.

Eddie eyes him, reluctantly intrigued. “What do you mean.”

“Everyone knows Thokk’s stats, but if he suddenly starts charming his way through situations then they’ll be scrambling to figure out what’s going on. Maybe it’ll even distract from a few of your traps.”

A little chaotic confusion is tempting. Eddie thinks it over. “Okay,” he says slowly, “perhaps a certain amulet is found with a persuasion bonus, or a grateful wizard saved by Thokk wants to help the bad-tempered fighter. Let me think about it. But it may not be that big of a boost,” he warns.

Gareth brightens, grin stretching, “That’s all I ask. Thanks, Eddie. I—” Gareth glances over Eddie’s shoulder and suddenly shrinks against the wall, stepping further into his shadow.

Eddie looks over and sees Tommy Hagan striding down the hallway, head down but rectangular face set in the perpetual scowl he’s had ever since he and Steve experienced their latest upset.

Eddie raises a brow at Gareth, “Has he been hassling you?”

Gareth shakes his head even as he keeps his gaze trained on Eddie like Tommy won’t notice them if he doesn’t make eye contact. “No, he’s just been a massive asshole in general lately. He tripped Mark from ninth grade and pushed him face-first into a trash can yesterday. The guy wasn’t even doing anything, but Billy sure thought it was funny.” Gareth frowns thoughtfully, “Who ever thought I’d miss the apparently calming influence of King Steve?”

Eddie hums, “I haven’t seen him today.”

Gareth’s face screws up in a grimace of sympathy, “Yeah, well, that slow roll break-up with Nancy Wheeler is fucking awkward to watch, maybe the guy is skipping. I would.”

Now that, Eddie had noticed. Ever since Halloween there had been longing glances (from Steve) and averted ones (from Nancy). It was painful to watch for multiple reasons. But also, Eddie wants Steve to be happy and he looks like he is with Nancy. He deserves to be content before he fights his war.

But that gaping hole that had started to be chewed at by sharp teeth, fuelled by envy and injustice, has let loose the sick feeling that he’s a tiny bit glad that they’re breaking up. Because if he’s not with Nancy then Eddie could ask him— no.

Eddie shuts that shit down quickly and ruthlessly. Even if Steve is like that which he clearly isn’t based on simple statistics and obvious dating history, he still wouldn’t want the tarnished copper of Eddie with his distinct lack of good parents, good home, good looks.

He ignores the sound of Steve’s voice calmly outlining all his good points while lying in Eddie’s bed as if he’d already catalogued a list and was just waiting to unfold it before Eddie like a most unexpected but delightful gift. Eddie with his knobby knees and skinny build, mouth too large for his long face and usually full of foot; he’s the quintessential boy from the wrong side of the tracks and Steve meant that he’s smart and kind despite his drawbacks.

He’s distracted by thinking about Steve and Nancy, but he still sees the exact moment that Tommy clocks Eddie as he’s about to pass. His stocky wrestler’s body squares up and pivots to sneer at Eddie and Gareth, who’s mostly hidden behind him. “Well, if it isn’t the freak. Hitting on the freshmen? That’s gross dude, predatory behaviour right there.”

Gareth’s gulp is audible and Eddie turns, nudging him with an elbow, “Aren’t you late for class?”

To his credit, Gareth pauses with a question in his expression before Eddie reassuringly nods, and he books it. Curls flying behind him as he rushes away from the seniors.

Closing his locker and carefully making sure his bag is zipped and firmly slung over his shoulder, Eddie flatly says, “Why don’t you get lost, Tommy.”

Tommy laughs at Gareth’s back, a grating sound more akin to a hyena than a human boy, “I thought it was a girl. You really are grooming your own little harem in that freak club of yours.”

Tendrils of poisonous resentment uncoil to manifest into that familiar beast, stirring it awake to release the tail between its fangs, becoming watchful and poised to strike. Eddie clenches his teeth so hard that he’s briefly afraid he’s going to crack a molar that he can’t afford to have taken care of. It won’t be Tommy who gets into trouble with Principal Higgins if Eddie punches him right in that smarmy, smirking mouth.

Instead, Eddie speaks with a measured precision, “Fuck off, Tommy. Go sniff after Carol if she’s still giving you the time of day.”

Tommy’s expression flickers at that and Eddie wonders if even his girlfriend has lost patience with his petulant pouting, his eyes narrow and he hisses out, “You’d know all about that, wouldn’t you? I see you sniffing after Steve, watching him all the time. You want him, don’t you? Wish he’d let your little fag mouth on him.” Tommy crudely grabs at his bulge, “You want dick, Eddie, have at it.”

Eddie’s fury has risen with each word and burns hotter for the terrible twist of half-truths within the cruel and deliberate misinterpretation of his actions. He forgets Higgins in a haze of rising red and the patience he had been holding onto wears thin until it snaps like a taut wire.

He lunges forward, catching Tommy off guard, his fingers close around the fabric of his polo shirt, pulling him forcefully towards Eddie’s seething gaze. In that moment, the hallway seems to shrink, the rest of the school fading away as Eddie’s focus narrows onto one of the sources of his frustration.

“You’re one to talk, Tommy boy,” Eddie hears an echo of Eddie boy that causes bile to rise in his throat before he uses it to fuel his words into a dangerous whisper, each syllable dripping with pent-up rage. “How long have you been trailing after Steve, wanting it huh? Begging for it. I see you, lapping up every little crumb of attention. Just waiting for your chance, Tommy? Maybe he’ll get drunk enough at one of your ragers and deign to glance at your tiny pecker.”

Tommy’s face contorts in a mixture of rage and humiliation, and he pushes Eddie with all the force of a grappler on Hawkins's wrestling team. “Fuck you,” he spits, his anger rippling out to clash against Eddie’s. His hands clench into fists and he swings at Eddie with a wild, unchecked ferocity.

But Eddie has had plenty of practice dodging and twisting away, even before Wayne took him in and Tommy’s knuckles meet the unforgiving metal of the locker behind them, a loud clang echoing through the school. Pain flashes through his face, briefly rocking him out of his fury. Tommy shakes off the throbbing in his hand, eyes narrowing as he fixes a menacing gaze on Eddie.

“Try me, sweetheart,” Eddie deliberately sneers, if he’s condemned to be a faggot then let him fucking play with it then. “Come at me or mine again and I’ll delight, I’ll fucking prance, on top of the cafeteria tables while I repeat this little spat of ours.” Tommy pales and Eddie continues to twist the knife, “What would your new friend Billy think? What would King Steve think?”

Eddie may have felt some guilt or sympathy for the unbridled fear in Tommy’s eyes if he wasn’t such a complete and utter prick that has it coming.

The defiance in Tommy’s stance drains away at the gravity of Eddie’s words and he steps back, shoulders dropping and face twisting in a mix of anxiety and resignation. Eddie stonily watches him for a moment, dizzy triumph filling him before turning, leaving Tommy to grapple with his own sins.

The urge to unleash more violence lingers though, a fire crackling through his veins ready to consume him. Eddie shakes the prickling out of his itching fingers as he blindly strides away, thoughts of turning back and striking out at Tommy racing through his mind. The temptation lingers to sink his fist into the soft meat of Tommy’s middle or shove his shoulder until a well-known pain pops it out.

Yet, even as the vile images swirl in his mind, a familiar voice echoes, cutting through the red haze. Uncle Wayne talking down a younger Eddie, filled with aimless anger, with no specific target to focus on except to start petty fights on the playground.

Wayne had drawn him aside, gentle and loving in a way that Eddie couldn’t trust yet, “You can go down the same path as your father, and that’s your choice. But I know you’re better than that. I know you’re kinder than that, Eddie.”

The reminder acts as a lifeline, pulling back from that taut edge. It helps to cool the white-hot rage that had threatened to engulf him. Eddie slows his gait, his breath coming in slow and deliberate counts.

Ten seconds, inhale.

Ten seconds, exhale.

He stops in the middle of the empty hallway, shoulders slumping and mouth sour. Sometimes, victory feels like defeat, he thinks bitterly.

In times of uncertainty, he asks what his uncle would do: Eddie changes direction to head towards the boys’ bathroom. He’ll run cold water over his wrists like Wayne had taught him and take a few more precious seconds to get his temper under control.

He isn’t his father and he’ll break his fingers before he ends up on that dark path.

 

 

Notes:

everyone that's been talking to me about Copper has really kept me going with this story, so I just wanted to send you a little kith 😘

Chapter 6: A Home Situation

Summary:

Last chapter, Eddie grappled with his worry for Steve, who had left behind a bloodstain before disappearing, followed by Tommy accusing Eddie of wanting Steve in the present.

This chapter, Eddie gets his anger under control only to find himself taking care of a concussed and banged up Present Steve.

Eddie stands at a white basin in the boys’ bathroom, the empty space smelling like urine and industrial-grade antiseptic while the fluorescent lights beat down from above. Staring at his wrists under the running water, he can almost see the angry pulse under his skin as it subsides to a sluggish beat under the cool, soothing stream.

Snaking a wet hand to rest against the warmth radiating at the back of his neck, he begrudgingly admits that even cooled, his anger remains an uneasy churning in his gut. Still sick at the dirty urge to let loose his wrath on Tommy and violently strike him back at the lockers during their fight, Eddie can’t help feeling that he’s failing at being a good person.

Yet, the exercise in controlling his temper works somewhat, allowing the bitter beast inside to settle, clasping its tail back in its mouth and greedy eyes falling close. He’s staring in the mirror, wondering why the repulsive creature isn’t reflected in the deep brown of his eyes when he hears an incriminating and familiar moan.

Whipping his head to the right, there at the far end of the stalls, Eddie sees a familiar pair of white Nikes, upside down with a scuff in the shape of Italy on the right heel. A shape that Eddie had memorised weeks ago.

There’s still a part of his mind that’s back there spitting at Tommy; mix those flying accusations with a boy crouching in a toilet stall and for a breathless moment Eddie thinks that Steve is in there, on his knees, with someone.

Then Steve lets out a soft, low noise followed by the unmistakable sound of retching and splashing, and the world rights itself again.

Steve Harrington is not giving a blowjob in the stalls of Hawkins High.

Eddie will have to wait until later to unpack all the mix of emotions that that misunderstanding threatens to unleash, he’s too exhausted from this day already.

“Steve,” he ventures, calling out softly so as not to spook him.

“Piss off,” rasps Steve, quickly followed by a retching sound.

The noises fade as Eddie pauses silently outside the stall, palm resting on the door but unsure about whether it’s right of him to intervene. He thinks that even if he hadn’t known Future Steve then Eddie would still have chosen to ask after him, he may have nearly crossed a line today but he’s not a total animal.

The niggle of worry that has become a constant companion ever since he’d seen blood on his bedsheets decides him. “Come on, man. Let me in,” he says rather than walking away.

Eventually, the Nikes draw back and Eddie pushes on the door; the wooden surface meets the stall with a subdued thunk. Propped against the opposite wall, Steve warily looks up at Eddie, handsome face looking like it’s been put through a meat grinder. His full lips are split, and that patrician nose has a raised welt across it.

However, the brunt of the injury was clearly taken across the left of Steve’s forehead, a long gash striking crimson against a bloom of bluish-purple skin, swollen and painful looking.

A bolt of alarm strikes through Eddie, in front of him is an injured Steve once more. Maybe not actively bleeding but certainly hurt and, if his unfocussed gaze is anything to go by, possibly concussed.

Steve blinks one eye at a time, “Hey Munson, welcome to my stall. Take a seat.” The anxiety settles a little, if he can still bitch Eddie out then he’s not too far gone.

Eddie settles against the door frame, arms crossed and runs his eye over the rest of Steve, searching for any limbs that look wrong. “Heard you ralphing, Harrington. Congrats, do you know the sex yet?”

Steve rolls his eyes and Eddie wonders whether it’s painful considering his bloodshot eyes, “Why, you want to be the daddy? Piss off, Munson.” The tired ache in Steve’s voice belies the potential venom in the words and, after Tommy’s vitriol, Steve’s attack seems cute. Harmless as a hissing kitten.

Eddie crouches down in front of him and holds out three fingers, “How many, big boy?” Steve’s eyes wobble and he squints and, really, that’s enough of an answer. “Okay, have you got rid of it all or, if I pull you up, are you going to spill your guts on my shoes?”

Steve frowns, two little creases appearing above his busted nose. “I’m fine,” he mutters.

“Uh, huh.” Eddie ignores the blatant lie and pushes his arms under Steve’s pits, hauling him up with a grunt.

Before he’s even thought to release Steve, the other boy starts to tilt and Eddie tightens his clasp, gripping his back suddenly to support his frame. Steve’s hands settle on Eddie’s biceps and Eddie smells the not-so-seductive breath of eau de puke, but he’s more concerned that Steve has suddenly turned an unsettling shade of green, already planning on flipping him around before Eddie ends up covered in vomit.

Which, honestly, seems like it’d be a fitting conclusion to this day.

Steve takes a slow, deep breath and the green fades into a sallow complexion. He swallows, looking up from the blank stare he’d had fixed on Eddie’s chest. “I’m fine,” he insists, “just prop me on the seat and I’ll be right as rain in a minute.” Steve tries to tack on a reassuring grin, but it looks wonky to Eddie.

He almost sighs, unsure whether Steve has a complete lack of awareness of his situation or whether the other guy’s instinct simply runs towards martyrdom. Because, right now, he clearly needs to be under professional supervision.

“Sure, Steve,” Eddie says dryly. “But first, let’s go for a quick ride to the hospital.”

Steve shakes his head and then looks like he immediately regrets it, “No, Mom won’t like it if it gets out that I’ve been in a fight again. She had words to say after I got into it with Jonathon.”

Eddie guides Steve out of the stall, taking it slow but steering him towards the outside door so that he can absolutely take Steve to a doctor. “I’m sure she’d rather you be safe and well than about to pass out in a public bathroom.”

Steve is silent for a loaded moment before responding in a strangely sober tone, “No hospital.”

Well, today seems like it's destined to be one long trip down memory lane for Eddie. He thinks back to a much smaller version of himself avoiding the teachers, making sure sleeves were long and answers reassuring. Knows that insisting is only going to have him with a Steve that runs away from the help that he sorely needs. Worriedly tries to remember what that first aid book says about concussions.

All he can remember is brain damage and thinks of a compromise on the fly. “Then how about the nurse’s office? If she pulls a Ratched, I’ll protect you.”

Steve chuckles softly and allows himself to be pulled down the hallway, “I get that one. Eleventh grade, Mr Bower.”

Eddie takes it as a good sign that Steve’s brain isn’t completely broken and concentrates on supporting him to the nurse’s office, which is thankfully close by.

As they push open the door to Nurse Morgan’s room, Eddie is soothed by the natural light pouring through the open windows and the friendly informational posters pinned to the walls. Grinning cartoon characters advise them to WOW if they have a headache.

Eddie thinks that Steve probably needs more than water, oxygen, and to wait, but what does he know? Especially by the way Steve is wincing at the sunlight pouring over them. Eddie has read one thin first-aid book and feels woefully underprepared for a wobbly Steve in his arms.

Nurse Morgan sits in the corner of the cheerful room, dark hair pulled back in a loose bun and clad in a sensible, cotton-blue dress with white flats. Seeing them, she frowns while immediately moving forward to support Steve on the other side of Eddie.

Together they manoeuvre him further into the room. Eddie glances over at the raised medical examination bed and Nurse Morgan shakes her head, looking at Steve’s unsteady form. “No,” she says, soft voice melodic and firm tone reassuring. “Sit him down on the chair over here. He’ll find it easier to get in and out of it than trying to sit unsupported and at a height.”

“He can hear you, you know,” Steve's voice is dry, and he only slightly winces as he settles into a chair with raised arms. Despite the tone, he slumps gratefully back. He looks up at Nurse Morgan, “I’m fine, but Eddie won’t let it go.”

Eddie raises his eyebrows; he thinks that’s the first time Steve has ever called him something other than Munson. At least this version of him.

“Okay hon,” she reaches over, gently tilting his head up to look into his eyes. She holds them wide and with an efficient click of her small torch shines a light into Steve’s eyes and flicks it away. She pulls out a blood pressure cuff, fixing it around Steve’s upper arm and sets it to inflate. “What’s your name and what happened?”

He tells her his name followed by some bullshit about getting into a fender bender in his car last night. Eddie thinks it’s a lie because Steve had done that little flip of his eyes. He’s not sure whether Nurse Morgan buys it or whether she’s just used to the mysteries of teenage boys, but she clicks her tongue at the results on the machine. Afterwards, she holds a forefinger and middle finger over Steve’s inner wrist while counting down the seconds on her watch.

“Okay, Steve. Have you ever had a concussion before?”

Steve’s eyes look a lot clearer already and he makes sure to stop himself before shaking his head, “No. I mean, Jonathon got me pretty good last time, but I’m sure it wasn’t as bad as a concussion.”

Eddie vaguely remembers a beat-up Steve last year after a scuffle with Jonathan Byers. Thinking of Dustin saying that his friend’s brother Jonathon had said Steve helped them fight a monster with a nail bat, Eddie wonders whether today is another moment in Steve’s war. Eventually he resignedly decides that it isn’t his place to say or do anything about it either way.

Butterflies.

She eyes Steve doubtfully, “Any gaps in your memory? Moments in the past twenty-four hours that seem a bit fuzzy.”

Steve snorts, “I wish.”

“He was throwing up in the bathroom when I found him,” Eddie rats him out, which earns him a mild glare from Steve. Eddie shrugs back at him, unrepentant.

“Okay,” Nurse Morgan wraps up her equipment, “It’d be best if you get to the hospital, you need a scan to make sure there’s no serious swelling—”

“No,” Steve interrupts, firmly polite. “I’m not going to a hospital. What do I need to do at home? Rest? Maybe take an aspirin?”

She purses her lips in disapproval, looking over to Eddie for support but he just shrugs and shakes his head. He already knows where this fight is going because Steve is apparently quite the stubborn son of a bitch.

“No medications or driving, and definitely no alcohol, but yes,” she adds reluctantly, “rest and have your parents monitor you tonight, any increase in symptoms you go to the hospital immediately, okay? That means feeling dazed or nauseous, if you’re having difficulty concentrating or any sudden mood swings then you need to go see a doctor. Other than that, rest and fluids.”

“Thank you, Nurse Morgan. I’ll make sure to do that.”

Eddie almost laughs at Steve’s deceptively innocent expression, like he hasn’t just stubbornly weaselled his way out of going to the hospital and gotten exactly what he wants. Nurse Morgan turns to Eddie, making sure to have him repeat her instructions and then promise to pass them on to Steve’s family.

“I’ll make sure he gets home safe,” Eddie assures her, but Steve mustn’t think he means it because even though they leave the nurse's office and walk out to the carpark together in unspoken agreement—Steve walking unsupported and Eddie hanging back by an inch or so in case Steve gets unsteady again—he still looks surprised when Eddie plants himself in front of the driver’s door of Steve’s maroon BMW.

Eddie sticks his palm out with a placid smile, “Keys, please and thank you.”

Steve folds his arms over his chest, “No.”

“I’m not asking, Steve. Hand them over; I’ll drive you home. Make sure you don’t crash your surprisingly unmarked car and then get out of your magnificently buoyant hair. Deal?”

Steve assesses him for a moment but must understand Eddie’s willingness to draw this out as long as he needs to: Steve’s not the only persistent one around here. He rolls his eyes and his lips fall into a half-pout, “Okay, but be careful with her. Any hint of a scratch and your ass is grass.”

Eddie gleefully plucks the keys out of Steve’s hand, “Yeah, yeah. You’re welcome to my ass if I so much as breathe wrong on her.” Eddie thinks he has a choking sound and, lowering himself into the driver’s seat, he worriedly looks over at Steve. But Steve only falls into the passenger side, refusing to glance over at him.

Eddie shrugs, as long as Steve’s not about to puke he can do whatever he wants.

To Eddie’s surprise and respect, David Bowie starts playing from the cassette player as soon as Eddie turns the key. “I didn’t think you had it in you, Stevie.” Steve rolls his eyes, turns the volume down low and ignores him to rest his forehead against the cool glass of the window.

Eddie flicks the indicator and turns onto the main road, more careful than he’d usually take the corner in his van. No need to rile Steve up while he’s in such a delicate position. He snorts to himself, thinking of Steve lying flat out on the school floor yet still having it in him to ask if Eddie wants to be the daddy. The Steve he’d come to know at home has shown a sly sort of humour but, honestly, he had half suspected that it was a quality he’d grown into.

The surprise Eddie felt at the idea of Present Steve wielding a nail bat returns, perhaps what he thought he knew about preppy King Steve had never been a true reflection of the person sitting quietly across from him.

As they travel closer to Loch Nora, Steve stirs to give him directions to his home. Eddie soon pulls into the driveway of a looming large house, painted a terribly drab grey, and framed by carefully shaped round shrubs on neatly trimmed grass.

Eddie contemplates the scenery for a moment, “Your front yard is full of balls, man. How do you live with yourself?”

Steve barks a quick, startled burst of laughter, looking over at Eddie in surprise. Eddie grins back at him, moving to step out of the car “Just calling it as I see it.” Steve’s eyes sparkle in amusement as he exits and rounds the car; he heads towards the raised dais next to the front door. “You want to call for a ride?”

Eddie rolls his eye behind Steve’s back at the entrance being a double, how much space do the Harringtons need? “Yeah, thanks. And are your folks around? Or here soon? I can wait until they return before leaving.”

Steve unlocks one side of the door, pushing it open and revealing an open area that leads to a staircase. The wooden floors are a polished walnut, and the walls are washed over with a greyish beige, studded with what Eddie assumes are tasteful paintings on opposing sides of the foyer.

One is an uninteresting landscape of a lighthouse amongst the waves of a dark and stirred ocean and the other is an abstract of a disembodied yellow body offering… an avocado? Eddie’s head is still tilted trying to work it out when Steve holds up the handset of a mustard-coloured phone resting on the sideboard.

“I don’t know what is either, man. But, uh, you’ll want someone to come now.”

Eddie takes this to mean that someone is home or is expected shortly. He calls Jeff, who promises to be there in fifteen minutes and turns around to see Steve now perched on the staircase; his eyes are dark and watchful as they consider Eddie. “Thanks for helping me. You didn’t need to, but it was nice of you.”

Eddie flushes slightly, Steve in any timeline is apparently ready with a compliment on hand. He looks away for a moment, shoving his hands into his pockets and thinking it over, “Pay me back by telling me what really happened? I don’t believe that crap about the car for one minute.”

Steve eyes Eddie for a heavy moment and Eddie wonders whether he’s about to hear about a demogorgon attack. “Billy Hargrove didn’t like the idea of his little sister dating one of the kids I babysit, Lucas.” He pauses before saying meaningfully, “Who’s black.”

“Ah,” Eddie says quietly, thinking about the rage roiling beneath Billy’s skin on a good day, let alone when that may be targeted against someone specific, someone probably younger based on what Steve’s describing, a boy vulnerable against an older, stronger man. An earlier version of Eddie stirs, filling him with quiet approval for the protector across from him, who had stepped up at a vital moment.

“And you, what? Used your head?”

Steve snorts as if despite himself and Eddie allows the graveness that had started to rise in him fall away, preening a little. He can feel an addiction forming to making Steve laugh. Not the worst drug to be hooked on, he assures himself.

“I should’ve,” Steve admits, leaning back on his elbows with a rueful expression. “No, he smashed a plate against it though.”

Eddie sucks in a breath, looking at Steve’s bruised face anew. “Jesus, Steve.”

Steve cracks his neck, looking uncomfortable. “It’s fine, and the kids are okay, which is the main thing.”

“Fuck, how many rugrats were there?” Eddie wonders whether Dustin was present for the violent scene. No kid should have to see the kind of brutality that comes from Steve’s face looking like it’s been pounded in on like that, but there’s no way he can ask Steve. Eddie has no rational explanation for how he knows of the connection.

Steve counts on his fingers, “Four? But, if it helps, his sister is the one who took him down. She’s a quick thinker and pretty fierce too — I wouldn’t want to mess with her.” Admiration flickers in his expression but soon a shade passes over it, darkening his face. “Max says she’s okay to be in the same house as him, but I’m not so sure.”

He looks up at Eddie with a searching look, as if he trusts him to have the answer, “I don’t know what to do for her. Am I even allowed to do something?”

Eddie sighs at the myriad of issues that lay under the deceptively simple question. He moves to settle next to Steve on the stairs, their thighs pressed up against each other in the narrow space. Keeping his eyes facing forward, Eddie offers the only advice he can give, even if it is hard-won. “I’m not sure, but you can continue to check in on her. It sounds like you’ve formed a bond, maybe even that she could trust you?”

He stares at the stained glass above the door, counting the different shades of pink and orange, and sees Steve eventually nod silently in the corner of his eye, gaze fixed on Eddie’s profile.

But Eddie can’t talk about this while looking at Steve directly, it’ll rattle the tight chains around the serpentine beast too sharply. “Sometimes, in situations like that. Home, you know, situations. You just need to keep checking in, make it clear they have someone safe to turn to if they need it.”

Steve’s knee presses against his own briefly. “Okay,” he says, “thank you.”

Eddie feels there’s more weight to Steve’s thanks than an appreciation for his short bit of advice. He imagines he hears an understanding or, at least, a willingness to understand in the coloured tones of his words.

Eddie shakes it off, slapping his knees with enthusiasm and goofily rolling his head towards Steve with a smirk, “Now where can I pass on Nurse Ratched’s instructions?” He sends out a silent apology to Nurse Morgan for his slander.

Steve steadily regards Eddie for a long moment, eyes flickering over his like he’s trying to unlock whatever is going on behind them. “That’s okay, I’ll pass on the message,” he replies calmly.

Eddie squints at him, a suspicion forming. “Where are your parents, Steve?”

Steve abruptly stands, hauling himself forward with minimal shakiness compared to earlier in the day and pulls open the front door pointedly. Through it they see Jeff’s boxy green Dodge Omni pull up to the curb, he waves a hand to Eddie through the driver’s window.

Eddie holds his palm up, silently asking for a moment. He walks over to face Steve but doesn’t exit through the door, “I can’t leave until I make sure you’re going to be okay.”

“That’s nice of you,” Steve repeats, “but I’m good.” He looks out at Jeff, “Your friend’s here, thanks again, Munson.”

Ouch, regulated back to last name status already.

Eddie shifts back and forth on the balls of his heels; he doesn’t feel right about leaving Steve behind. It wasn’t that long ago that he’d been unfocused and puking his guts out. He looks better now, but it was clear from Nurse Morgan’s instructions that Steve’s condition can turn pear-shaped if left unmonitored.

“I’ll stick around until your folks get home,” Eddie hedges, trying to find a compromise.

Steve’s voice cools and he guides Eddie out the door with a firm, but gentle hand to his lower back, “That’s good of you, but I’ll make sure they know what to do.” He must read the anxiety in Eddie’s face because he tacks on, “I’ll hunt you down tomorrow so that you can see I’m still as healthy as a horse.”

Eddie barely has the time to nod his head in reluctant agreement before the door shuts in front of him with a quiet click. He stares at the embellished silver door knocker, worried that he’s about to make a terrible mistake.

It stares unhelpfully back and Eddie lets out a gust of resigned air, turning away from the cavernous Harrington home to climb into the car waiting for him.

Jeff glances over at him curiously, “What were you doing at Harrington’s place? Dealing?” Eddie nods tiredly, “Something like that.” He dredges up a more genuine smile, Jeff had done him a solid by coming out here. “Thanks for coming to get me, man.”

He smiles back, “No problems.” Pulling away from the curb, Jeff drives them towards school so Eddie can retrieve his van.

Eddie barely sleeps that night, turning and tossing on overly warm sheets and an aggressively flat pillow. Visions of a passed-out Steve dance through his head, followed by the darker image of blank eyes and a pool of vomit underneath him. The next morning, he careens into the carpark earlier than usual and restlessly paces near the front doors until the first bell is about ready to ring.

Rivers of students pass by him, the sounds of morning chatter and teens shouting out across the carpark mixing into a maddening muddle of sound. Just as he’s contemplating driving back to Loch Nora and banging on Steve’s door until he answers, a familiar maroon BMW pulls into the car park.

If it weren’t for his busted face, Steve would look good as he approaches the school in his tight-fitting jeans and flattering blue polo. Eddie watches him closely for any signs of a wobbly gait, but Steve strides confidently across the concrete, navigating around huddled groups of students dawdling before class.

He spots Eddie as he nears the door, faltering in place. Eyes locking with Eddie’s across the sea of students, Steve looks hesitant and almost like he's in need of a shield. As if yesterday had exposed a weak and vulnerable side that he’s afraid Eddie will take advantage of.

The school bell rings loudly above them and Eddie stops himself from walking forward, giving Steve his protection by staying away. He must understand somewhat because Steve tentatively smiles, nodding carefully before joining the moving throng through the wide doors into Hawkins High and leaving Eddie behind.

Blankly staring across the parking lot, Eddie thinks about Steve possibly sharing more yesterday than he’d meant to and spots a navy blue Camaro as it obnoxiously roars into the parking lot. Cigarette smoke pours out of the open windows before Billy steps out, pausing to check his hair in the side mirror before locking the car. He looks unscathed from what Eddie can see in the distance.

He turns away into the emptying corridors before Billy sees him staring, deciding that he’s not annoyed with Steve for protecting himself by walking past Eddie, but he is angry. It’s not the first time that Billy has stirred the bitter serpentine beast inside him, the injustice of the whole situation unfurling into a rising wrath.

It makes him feel a little reckless, tight chains unlocking and guiding his path later that afternoon, the parking lot empty after lunch while students study in a classroom that Eddie should be sitting in as well.

It justifies his actions into a logical defence that this event is separate from Steve’s tourist path in time, because Eddie was always likely to strike at some point considering his continuing resentment against Billy Hargrove and his casual cruelty.

Walking steadily past Billy’s precious Camaro, keys clenched between his knuckles and stretched out just far enough to reach the side of the car, Eddie can’t stop his grim smile from spreading as a small and mean joy fills him. A nice long scratch against the formerly pristine paint job can’t fuck up the timeline, but, thinking of Steve lying on the bathroom floor, hurt and weak, it feels goddamn satisfying.

It settles the beast somewhat too; revenge filling in parts of the cracks while the sight of Steve walking steadily around school seals the rest. As he watches Steve heal day-by-day relief settles in his chest: Present Steve is alive and he’s okay. Now, Eddie can go back to tracing that damned blood stain left behind on his bedsheets.

 

 

Notes:

this version of Steve is not quite ready to be vulnerable with Eddie yet, but I can't help but love him for razzing Eddie on the bathroom floor 😾

Chapter 7: A Smouldering Ember

Summary:

Last chapter, Eddie cared for a concussed Present Steve while giving him advice on how to check in on Max after she took down Billy.

This chapter, Future Steve comes back and reluctantly allows Eddie to tend to his injuries from the Upside Down.

In the fading light of the late November afternoon, Eddie’s white van rumbles to a stop outside his trailer, the crunch of gravel beneath the tires echoing through the quiet air of Forrest Hills.

Contentedly tumbling out of the driver’s side, he bounds up the short stairs to the front, his breath visible in the crisp air. The sky behind him is painted with the darkening hues of orange and pink, a softening blur of colours leaving behind the daylight clinging to the horizon.

Eddie affectionately pats his pocket full of cash while unlocking the door and hums Girl Gone Bad with feeling because he don’t work for free either. He’d managed a couple of modest deals at his bench in the woods behind the school, but it was Alex Tinsley who had nicely tipped him over into the area of flush, despite making Eddie drive out to meet him at his place in Brookside Heights.

But home deliveries incur an asshole tax, whether the asshole in question knows it or not and Eddie is pleased with the productiveness of his day.

He steps through the door and nearly smacks his face into the floor when he sees Steve standing in the middle of the living area, still clad in Eddie’s soft navy sweats and Dio shirt from his last visit.

The cheerful melody of the Brady Bunch signals the end of the show playing on their boxy television and Steve pulls a toothbrush out of his mouth, flecks of white at its corner. He lights up, grinning, “Hey, Eddie.”

Eddie clinically runs an eye down Steve’s body, looking for hints of a spreading stain but the clothes are too dark to make out any signs of blood. He carefully hangs his key up on the hook, the bile-coloured ghoul figurine cheerfully swings in the air and silence fills the room except for the chattering from an insurance advertisement. Eddie thinks about what he wants to say next.

Steve shifts uneasily, nearly spearing his foamy toothbrush through his locks as he starts and stops pushing his hair back. “Uh, sorry for making myself at home. The morning breath was starting to get to me, and I found an unopened pack under the sink.”

“Steve,” Eddie says, approaching the other boy and circling him: nothing that he can see on his back either. “Do you have something to tell me?”

“I won’t do it again?” Steve is visibly confused and twists to meet Eddie as he huffs in frustration.

“Steve, you left a spill of blood on my bed before you disappeared last time. Are you standing there, brushing your teeth, while you bleed out?”

Steve’s expression shifts to shock, “No! No, why would I just walk around the place if I was bleeding out? That’s insane.”

“I don’t know,” Eddie retorts, closing the distance, “you tried to convince me to leave you on a toilet floor three weeks ago while you were puking your guts out and unable to stand without me holding you up. I’m not sure I trust your judgement.”

Steve pouts, “I was fine, wasn’t I?”

Eddie throws an exasperated hand into the air, “That’s not the point! You were unwell and you didn’t let me help. Did you even tell your parents?”

Steve scowls at him for a moment before turning to stomp away to the bathroom. Eddie finds him gargling and spitting out a mouthful of water, he glares at Eddie over his shoulder. “They weren’t in Hawkins, and I was fine.”

Eddie props himself against the door, a blockade against what he’s decided to call Slippery Steve. “That’s worse. You get how that’s not better, right? I spent all night thinking about the ways that you could have been dying, brain swelling and bleeding inside that thick skull.”

For sure Eddie had looked up concussions after that day and he had been horrified at the ways Steve could have ended up damaged or dead. “You could have seized up or vomited in your sleep. And you’re saying that no one was with you?”

Steve concentrates on washing his toothbrush, thumb carefully running over the bristles until the water runs clean. He drops the stick into the holder, alongside Eddie’s and Wayne’s, not looking at Eddie. “They’re not here half the time anyway and there wasn’t anyone to call.”

Eddie flashes back to earlier today when he had watched Present Steve snag a corner table in the cafeteria, away from a stormy Tommy and laughing Billy, and definitely not with Nancy and—according to the rumour mill—her new boyfriend, Jonathon Byers. It’s 1984, Steve has no friends or girlfriend, and his parents aren’t around.

Well, fuck.

Eddie runs a rough hand over his face; Steve looks wary, so he’ll let it drop for now.

“Okay,” he says placatingly. “Just. Show me your injuries so I can know you’re okay? I’ve been going half out of my mind with worry. Thinking you landed back in the 1860s or something and some Confederate soldier was going to stick you further.”

Steve smiles hesitantly, “Actually, there was a big increase in nurses during the Civil War, so I probably would have been taken care of either way.”

“How do you even know that?” Eddie blinks, caught off guard by the random trivia.

Steve shrugs shyly, “History was the only interesting class besides gym.” He looks down before obviously deciding to play along with what he thinks of as Eddie’s nagging.

Pulling the t-shirt over his shoulders, Steve draws the material from the back forward, the muscles in his forearm flexing. Eddie would normally appreciate the sight, but he’s taken aback by the battered appearance of Steve’s torso.

The splotchy darkness of new bruising is giving way to the sickly yellows and greens of healing skin, and three angry lacerations curve over his sides, two on the right and one on the left. Each is covered in strong black threads neatly stitched, keeping his tattered skin safely closed.

An uneven breath knocks loose from Eddie’s lungs. He’d expected something. Had feared the worst, but his imagination hadn’t prepared him to see the physical proof of Steve hurt, injured in ways that had needed proper wound care. He leans in further as he tries to work out the little pockmarks that surround the worse of the injuries like he’d been torn into by the hooked beak of a bird of prey.

The tear on his left is about an inch long and sits low, closer to Steve’s hip and it looks like he popped one of the stitches. A dried line of blood curves to smear over his soft-looking belly to trail under the navy sweats. His shirt must have ridden up while sleeping and smudged the newly opened wound against the bed.

Hands hovering over him, Eddie feels a bone-deep relief that Steve—if not exactly at the pinnacle of health—has at least been seen to by a doctor. Eddie can admit now that maybe it was more of a deep smudge than a spill on his sheets, but it still had been enough blood that he hadn’t been able to properly wash it out, therefore he was right to have been concerned.

But he wants to take care of Steve further, Eddie realises with chagrin at himself. He’s been fretting and worrying for weeks now and has had no place to funnel that energy.

Steve lets out a surprised grunt as Eddie solidly grabs his hand and drags him into his bedroom. With a careful push, Eddie directs Steve to sit at the edge of the bed.

“While I’m happy to be given an invitation into your bed again, I’m not sure where you’re going with this.”

Eddie rolls his eyes at the relentless flirt that Steve apparently is, even when only around another guy, and snags the green case with the white cross on its front in the corner of his room. Using a hand on Steve’s knee to balance himself as he kneels down on the carpet in front of him, he pushes Steve’s legs apart and positions them into a more convenient position for Eddie to lean in and access his torso.

Flipping through the first aid book that is surely overdue at this point, Eddie easily finds the section he knows by sight now. Still, he confirms what he needs first before pulling out the two colour-coded modules: purple for dressings and bandages and lime-green for cuts and wounds.

“Eddie,” Steve says uncertainly above him.

“One moment, Steve,” Eddie murmurs, counting out what he needs: gloves, antiseptic wipes, scissors to cut the non-adhesive dressing, paper tape, and butterfly bandages. For lack of a cleaner area, he lays out his supplies on the inside of the large canvas case.

As he starts to look up, Eddie realises that he’d kicked Steve’s ankles to splay on the outside of Eddie’s body, creating a heady v of his muscled legs and setting Eddie’s eye line right at crotch level.

Once again struck by how badly sweats fail to hide away the soft bulge nestled under the thin cotton, Eddie averts his gaze, looking up only to be caught in Steve’s eyes. They've become darker while he was looking away and his breathing is a little heavier.

Right, Eddie chastises himself, Steve's dealing with painful injuries and Eddie is daydreaming about pitching forward and putting his mouth somewhere it has no place being.

“Okay,” Eddie says with a false brightness. “It looks pretty good.”

Steve’s mouth drops a little before choking out, “It does?”

“It does,” Eddie confirms, getting his proverbial footing back under him now that he has a purpose. He holds up an enclosed wipe, the white paper stamped with a blue version of the ubiquitous cross sign. “We just need to clean the worst of it and then cover them with bandages to keep down the risk of infection.”

“Right,” Steve sounds disappointed.

“I’ve got this,” Eddie tries to reassure him. “But did you get them wet when you had a shower…” Eddie thinks back, “Last night?”

Steve lightly touches above one of his stitched tears, “I tried to keep them dry, y— they said that I should keep them from getting water on them. But I was too tired to do anything about bandages.”

Eddie nods, thinking about the pile of used dressing he had found in the trash can the next day. At least Steve hadn’t reapplied the dirty ones over his exposed flesh.

Eddie leans forward, ignoring everything to steadily clean across the tears and gashes, a wet amber reassuringly spreading under the small square of the wipe onto Steve’s skin. If Eddie can see the antiseptic being applied, then he can almost hear the dying gargles of any nasty bugs before they dig in and become infectious.

Eddie gently pinches the skin together over the popped stitch and draws the butterfly bandage over it, keeping the healing edges sealed together. Finally, he cuts the appropriate lengths for the dressings and tapes them over the wounds, making sure to cover the angry-looking pockmarks too.

Steve had kept silent for the most part, his stomach sometimes reflexively flinching, and he’d only let out a soft exhale here and there, but when Eddie looks up the red of his lower lip testifies to Steve having bitten down any sounds of pain. A twinge of sadness runs through Eddie, reminded of a similar attempt at swallowing down his cries while in Eddie’s arms.

“All done. You want to lie back?” Eddie asks sympathetically.

Steve nods shakily, “Yeah, that wasn’t as bad as getting stitched up, but it was… yeah, painful.” He waits until Eddie gathers up the rubbish of his leftover supplies and moves away to tidy the bag before standing up and settling against the headboard.

Eddie cleans up, carefully noting in his checklist the items used, and walks out into the living area to turn off the still-running television. He stops by the kitchen briefly and hands Steve a glass of water when he returns, who nods gratefully and takes a sip.

Eddie hovers before deciding fuck it, Steve’s a big boy. “Do you want a joint? Dull the pain a little?”

Steve grimaces, shaking his head ruefully. “No ever since the—” He cuts himself off, rolling his lips before starting again. “I was drugged and beaten once. I can’t get high without flashing to the other so, no. No drugs. But thanks, I appreciate the offer.”

Eddie’s knees give out and he lands by Steve’s ankles, reaching out to clasp a hand around one like it’ll keep Steve anchored here in time where there are no monstrous beasts, human or otherwise. “Jesus H. Christ. What is your life?”

Steve lays a reassuring hand over Eddie’s knee and if that doesn’t make him feel guilty, he doesn’t know what would. His stomach twists in on itself, here Eddie is nearly getting into scrapes with Tommy and Steve is being a hero, saving kids from racist dickheads and escaping hell.

“It’s okay, that was a while back. I’ll take a smoke though, if you’ve got one.”

Swallowing his self-flagellation, Eddie swiftly reaches for his pack of Winstons—this, he can manage. The gentle glow of the low lamps catches the glint of the plastic covering the red and white box.

Eddie positions himself to the left of the bed next to Steve, the old mattress creaking as he settles. He offers it and a purple plastic lighter while securing the ashtray on his lap so Steve doesn’t have extra to juggle.

Steve gratefully takes them from him and Eddie gazes around the bedroom, taking further comfort from being surrounded by his sanctuary.

It had been a homey space when this was Wayne’s room — scattered with a few photographs and smelling of cigarettes and the leather notes of his aftershave. Compared to how Eddie had carefully shaped his room afterwards though it had been practically bare and impersonal.

Now, the room is filled with the life of a high school student: notepads, textbooks and messes of pens and pencils; flooded over with his love for fantasy and D&D: figurines and paint pots, magazines filled with modules and adventure outlines, stories written by Eddie himself; and overflowing with his passion for music: the inherited acoustic guitar resting against an amp, his sweetheart, the red Warlock, pinned to place of pride next to the mirror, the scattering of loud posters for Judas Priest, Dio, and Metallica taped across the walls, carefully positioned with precision but designed to give the room a vibrant, chaotic feel. All of it culminating into a restless energy to match the thrum that runs through Eddie’s chest.

However, the figurative warmth of his refuge does little to stave off the literal chill of the autumn air, the last month of fall readying itself to give way to winter.

As Eddie shivers again, he reaches over the side of the bed to swipe a grey hoodie discarded on the floor. He pulls it over his head and, as he tugs the sleeves over his hands, he thoughtfully eyes Steve’s thin t-shirt. “Do you want one too?”

Steve shakes his head, looking down at the crumpled pack in his hand, “Nah, I run hot.”

“Good to know,” Eddie waggles his eyebrows and feels a flash of triumph as Steve’s lips kick up before he pulls out a cigarette.

“Are you sure it’s okay, you’re nearly out.”

Eddie peers over, unsurprised to see three lonely sticks in the old packet. “Go for it, I really only smoke when stressed or feeling social.”

Steve lights the cigarette, bringing it to life with a slow, deliberate drag that paints the dim room in the warm glow of its burning tip. The red cherry of the cigarette becomes a focal point to Eddie, a fiery ember dancing in the quiet.

Steve’s neck tips back, throat bobbing as he releases an exhale, a billow of smoke cascades from his lips, weaving sinuous patterns of flying serpents into the still air.

As the tendrils of smoke die away, Steve’s face smoothens, the lines of tension ease and the ever-present weariness etched into his features seem to fade.

“Same,” he finally says, in response to Eddie’s smoking habits. “I quit for Robin. She threatened to replace my conditioner with hair dye, and I know she’ll wait until I let my guard down and actually do it.” He chuckles, the deep sound rising affectionately from his chest. “I know better than to tempt her.”

The balloon in Eddie’s chest—made buoyant from the building pleasure of spending time with Steve, of having him all to himself, at finally being able to take care of him after weeks of anxiety—abruptly pops. Suddenly a smoke sounds like a wonderful idea, just peachy. He plucks the cigarette from Steve, ignoring the damp tip slick with Steve’s spit and steals a drag for himself. Takes comfort in the accompanying rush.

Steve artlessly continues to explain, “Not worth the risk incurring her wrath, really. Though,” he adds roguishly, “I think I could pull off being a blonde.” Steve flips his head so he’s looking up at Eddie, a swathe of hair falls over his forehead and one gleaming eye. “What do you think, Eddie? Good boy gone bad?”

Eddie’s exhalation gets caught on a cough, the smoke spits out roughly and he shoves the cigarette into Steve’s hand with a neutral hum. He can’t help himself though and once he’s swallowed the jagged ends of his breath he asks, “Would Robin like it though? Got to look good for the girlfriend, Steve-o.”

Steve blows smoke out through a confident smirk, “Nah, best friend. Platonic with a capital P.” He pronounces it with a smack of his lips, before forming a humoured pout. “She thought I was confessing to her once though.”

Steve snorts, amusement evident in his tone. “Wrong weirdo from school,” he says mysteriously, laughing as he looks across the room but obviously lost in memory. “She shot me down pretty quickly. Would have been a crash and burn too if she’d been right.”

Steve mimes a plummeting plane with a flat palm before making a goofy explosive sound. “It was one of the best conversations on a toilet floor I’ve ever had. Got me a best friend out of it.”

Traitorously, that balloon starts to inflate again, the rising feeling feeds Eddie’s comically injured expression. He lays a dramatic hand against his heart, the other still holding the ashtray. “I’m insulted, Stevie. I thought we had something beautiful in that boys’ bathroom.”

Steve slyly grins at him, “Our time together will always hold a special place in my heart.”

Eddie snorts in response but Steve leans in, more closely than necessary as he ashes the cigarette over the tray on Eddie’s lap. There’s a mischievous spark in his gaze, a subtle glint inviting Eddie into understanding his words. “But what could I do? You refused to take responsibility for the baby: I had to be daddy.”

Eddie freezes momentarily, something unbidden unlocking at the back of his brain until the absurdity of the moment flies through him and he starts laughing.

The sly shadows in Steve’s eyes retreat, as does his body, leaning back with a small smile while Eddie’s chortles start to fade. “Here,” he pushes the remains of the cigarette into Eddie’s hand, “I shouldn’t have too much or I’ll never stop. I’ll survive to reach 1986 only for Robin to hang me by my balls.”

Eddie amiably takes a last drag before stubbing it out, placing the ashtray on the floor by his side of the bed. “She sounds caring? In a terrifying way.”

The remnants of Steve’s smile lingers, a soft brightness that Eddie wants to trace. Steve wriggles further down the bed, leaning back and moving one hand under his head, only wincing a little at the stretch of his injuries. His biceps flex underneath the black t-shift which rides up, exposing a sliver of tanned stomach with a hint of hair dusted over it. Eddie curls his fingers over the itch to reach out and touch.

“Yeah, she’s great,” Steve says. “A polyglot; do you know what that is?”

Steve looks up at him eagerly and Eddie is filled with an unbearable fondness, liquid soft like ink seeping through porous paper, leaving delicate, precious ribbons in its wake. Eddie nods silently, words momentarily leaving him.

“I didn’t,” Steve confesses like polyglot is a normal part of everyday conversation. “She speaks Spanish, French, Italian and Pig Latin — just because she wants to.” His pride flows clearly through his words, excited to share his friend’s accomplishment like a schoolboy telling his parents about his first friend on the playground. Made through shared opinions on milkshakes and shaken on spit palms.

It causes that ink to spill further, infusing Eddie’s voice with an indulgent warmth as he teases Steve. “Oh, yeah? I’m not sure Pig Latin counts.”

“It should,” Steve retorts, “If I can claim English then it should count as a dialect.” Steve sounds indignant on Robin’s behalf like he’s had this argument before.

His enthusiasm tapers off, gaze lifting to the ceiling in quiet reflection. “Honestly, she’s too good for me. She’s going to get out of here and become, I don’t know, the president of the UN or something.”

“Are they presidents?” Eddie needles, hoping to provoke back that energy Steve suddenly lost. “Sounds like one of those jobs that has a British feel. You know, like Prime Minister or — Prime Master of the World,” Eddie calls out the title grandly, like a WWE announcer and Steve giggles.

“No, definitely president,” Steve finally says. “Do you know the first one was actually a Nazi POW? He came back from that to lead the leaders in defining human rights across the world. That’s cool.”

Eddie eyes him, “You really do like history.”

Steve breaks eye contact, shy again. “Still barely passed my classes. Could never keep the dates straight in my head.”

Thinking of a coming test, Eddie groans in sympathy but Steve sighs looking tired again. “Couldn’t really keep anything straight in school.”

The lines on his face deepen and Eddie can’t control his curiosity, “How long have you been in this war? I mean, before you landed here.”

His lips pursed as he decides what to share, Steve says, “Not long, really. I shouldn’t call it a war; it was barely a battle, only a handful of days while we scrambled to keep each other alive.”

Eddie frowns at him in doubt, wondering at the lengths that Steve will go to minimise his pain, whether it be whimpers or tears or admitting to a hellish experience.

“But they were an intense few days,” Steve concedes. “And it’s also been this sporadic attack since ’83. We’d be getting back to our lives, settling back into normality and then bam,” Steve makes a fist and smacks it against the bed, “here we go again.”

He releases his clenched fist, running a hand through his hair, allowing the bronze strands to cascade freely around his head. “I’ve gotten to the point where I can’t sleep unless I have a bat under my bed.”

“You must have been okay the other night,” Eddie says, thinking of when they had slept together in the same bed. “I didn’t hear you get restless.”

“No offence, Eddie,” Steve says with humour, “but I don’t think an atomic bomb could have woken you the other night.”

A subtle interplay of emotions ripples through Steve’s expression before he relents with a faintly surprised mien, “But you’re right — it was probably the best sleep I’ve had in a while. Maybe I felt like I could rest for a moment because you were there. I’ve slept better with Robin in the same room too; it helps, I think, to have someone I trust with me.”

An image of himself observing Steve while he slept flashes through Eddie’s mind. At the time motivated a little because he liked looking at his handsome face, but also so he could watch over him a little longer and make sure that he didn’t disappear. Playing sentinel to the soldier.

Eddie chews at his lip, he’s been thinking about this, has had no choice but to think about it. If Steve is popping in and out of time, with no rhyme or reason other than to land in Eddie’s living room, then he can’t go wandering off like the lonely samurai Eddie had initially envisioned.

“Well, since you’re stuck with me and there’s not much space in a one-bedroom trailer, do you want to keep sharing?”

Steve’s open expression becomes faintly quizzical, quickly overtaken by a wary air. Despite remaining still, Eddie senses Steve withdrawing, distancing himself behind a swiftly forming wall. “To be honest, I thought that was the plan anyway. If I’m cramping your style or, I don’t know, it’s too weird to share your bed with another guy, I can get out of here. I don’t want to overstay my welcome; I’ll figure something out.”

“No,” Eddie’s hand flies out to grab Steve’s hand, intertwining their fingers before he even recognises that he’s done it. Steve’s stiff shoulders relax back onto the bed.

“No,” Eddie repeats. “I think you should stay here from now on, it’s the safest option and I’m…” Eddie falters, words uncharacteristically failing him. “I’m happy to share a bed.”

The moment feels unjustifiably serious to Eddie, like he had peeled back a wet layer of his heart exposing the meat that beats inside. He deliberately moves past it with a teasing joke, “Especially if it’ll help with those luggage cases you call bags under your eyes.”

Steve scowls, though his hand squeezes Eddie’s. “You keep calling me ugly and I’ll start taking it personally.”

“Actually,” Eddie says, “I said you couldn’t be hot all the time. I think that’s a very different thing.”

Steve smiles smugly and Eddie realises that he’s been had, “As long as you know, then.”

His cheeks burning a little hot, Eddie glances away, taking a long moment to look about his room; the sanctuary that he can now extend to Steve, helping him to relieve at least one burden in his uncertain life.

He glances at the bedroom window, the curtains half parted to reveal that dusk has given way to night. In the distance, he can hear Millie Anderson shouting for her sons to come in for dinner and the yowl of a cat calls for its compatriots in the chilling dark. Soon the amber, yellow, and red of fallen leaves will give way to the deep greens of winter, sheltered by cloudy skies that only allow the smallest peek into the blanket studded with distant stars above. Eddie will miss them until they come back in the Spring.

Reminded of a similar constellation, Eddie looks over at Steve only to find him asleep, face soft and lips parted, breath falling rhythmically. A small hard knot releases in Eddie’s chest, unravelling an unacknowledged fear. Eddie realises that he’s been expecting Steve to disappear any time he looks away. Now, he watches his sleeping face, relaxed but for those two little creases still gathered between his eyebrows.

Eddie starts to stroke his thumb gently over Steve’s hand, fingers still intertwined with his own. Like a small miracle, the furrow releases and Steve lets out a contented sigh. Eddie watches over him for a long time before he falls after Steve, sleep taking him in her warm embrace.

 

 

Notes:

Steve relenting enough to allow Eddie to care for him, in whatever form that takes, will always be my jam, and that he's a flirt just adds spice 🤌✨️

and, oh hello there, a little stobin my beloved

Chapter 8: Because It's Love

Summary:

Last chapter, Eddie was finally able to make sure Steve wasn't bleeding out as he patched up his Upside Down injuries while the two of them came to the agreement that Steve would stay at Eddie's trailer (and in his bed) until this time travel business is resolved.

This chapter, Steve tries to find his place in the Munson abode while Eddie questions Steve's attitudes towards his family.

Notes:

oh ho ho I love how you guys are teasing out the little hints and possible clues in the comments 👀

It had been a week since Steve appeared in Eddie’s living room, mouth full of toothpaste and not bleeding out onto the ground as he had feared, and they were settling into a routine. Eddie away at school for most of the day, Steve healing at home, evenings filled with soft laughter, and nights of Eddie determinedly scooted over to the far edge of his side of the bed.

Steve hadn’t said anything, but Eddie caught him eyeing him a couple of times before he settled in under the covers. Eddie hadn’t been able to interpret the enigmatic expression on Steve’s face; he just hopes he doesn’t think sharing a bed with Eddie is too weird.

He had skipped school the first day Steve was there, over his protests. Eddie saying he wanted to just hang out, with the unspoken message that it was in case Steve disappeared once again. But he hadn’t, his body staying firmly within the Munson residence. Sprawled out on the bed, idly flipping through D&D magazines while Eddie had completed his homework; a compromise for ditching that Steve had been oddly firm about.

Wayne came home from his shift at the plant and, if he was suspicious about a boy exiting Eddie’s bedroom while wearing his clothes, his uncle hadn’t said anything directly about it. Eddie had haltingly tried to explain the situation without giving away the truth of it all.

“He’s in a bit of a bind,” Eddie said, shifting on his feet while Wayne made himself a box of macaroni and cheese. Wayne pensively stirred the increasingly gooey contents in the pot over their stove top, its unmistakable buttery richness wafting through the air.

“He’s a good guy, I promise. And if he had anywhere else to go, he’d probably be there, but it’s just this weird thing and I’d like to help him out while I can. Is it okay?”

Eddie had stuffed the nail of his thumb in his mouth before he let any more words spill from his mouth, nervously chewing on the cuticle. Wayne continued stirring before finally looking at Eddie through the corner of his eye, one bushy eyebrow raised in question. “And his parents?”

“Not on the scene,” Eddie said truthfully, spitting out a piece of skin. His face twisted in a grimace, “I don’t think they’re really around normally or… the sort of people he can trust or turn to.”

Eddie may have laid it on a little thick, but the thing is — Wayne is infuriatingly good at sniffing out Eddie’s lies, and he nodded in a way that made Eddie think that his words may ring with a deeper level of belief based on observations and half-formed suspicions. He’d flashed back to Steve, concussed and swaying in his arms: no hospital and, later, no one to call.

Eddie may finally end up in jail one day for any multitude of sins, but at least he knows that Wayne will always take his phone call.

Wayne had switched the stove off and, bending down below the counter cupboard that Eddie was perched at, brought up three bowls. The amber dishes glinted in the kitchen lights as Wayne spooned the little elbow noodles evenly amongst them. “Just make sure he cleans up after himself.” And with little fanfare, Wayne had given his blessing and taken his dinner away to eat on the couch.

Eddie however enjoys a little pomp to his ceremony, so as the older man had settled his weight onto the seat Eddie darted forward and pressed a kiss of gratitude against those salt and pepper whiskers. “Thanks, Uncle Wayne.”

Wayne had grunted in response. Ostensibly ignoring his nephew to flick on the television with the remote, but in his faint nod, Eddie could tell that he was pleased.

“So, we’ve just passed Thanksgiving, then?” Steve asks now, throwing a baseball into the air and catching it again in a rhythmic thud, swish, thud. Eddie has no idea where he’d gotten it from.

It’s Monday evening, Wayne has the late shift, and Eddie is technically drafting an outline about the use of German propaganda in World War II, but the subject had spurred a campaign idea about a lord turning the people against their stalwart heroes. Jeff’s elf and Gareth’s half-orc are going to find it hard to persuade the locals for information or help, while Sarah’s human fighter and Randy’s human mage will enjoy a warm welcome. Their new guy, Dougie, was coming with his character on the day, so Eddie would wing it for him.

“Thursday before last,” Eddie confirms, shading in a dastardly moustache in the little figure he’d drawn on the margin. He pushes down a twinge of guilt for not doing his work by concentrating on drawing a fantastic representation of his new villain.

“Huh,” says Steve. “Did you watch the Cowboys win?”

Eddie shoots a dry look over his shoulder, “Do I look like a balls guy.”

Steve snorts and mutters something under his breath. Eddie squints at him, suspiciously “What?”

“Nothing,” Steve shakes his head with an innocent smile before returning to the baseball in his hand. Thud, swish, thud. “You do much?” he asks.

Sprawled across the brown couch, his back against the arm Steve looks relaxed and carefree. A week of doing nothing much but vegging in front of the television, catching up on sleep, and generally healing has done him a world of good. He idly scratches over his clothes, targeting the irritation of his healing stitches.

As Steve had promised, he runs hot and, even in the chill of early December, his feet are bare. He wears a pair of grey jeans with a black Metallica tee, across it Kill ‘Em All For One is splashed across a red outline of America. Eddie hadn’t been able to go to the concert, but he’d traded a few party favours to Randy for the shirt. The jeans are one of his looser pants, but Steve’s thighs bulge within them, and his bubble butt fills out the backside in a way that Eddie’s flat ass has no hope of ever doing.

Steve had taken to switching between this outfit and the sweats/Dio combo and Eddie can't figure out which one makes him want to lose his mind more. It depends on the day, Eddie decides, and whether Steve is bending over to pick up anything off of the floor.

Eddie hums a negative about their activities over the holiday, “We don’t have much attachment to it, no. But now that you mention it, Wayne may have been excited over his game,” he adds reluctantly, “but I’m pretty sure it’s the Hooters that he roots for.”

“Hoosiers,” Steve corrects with a laugh. Thud. Swish. Thud.

“That sort of sounds like a cowboy,” Eddie offers carelessly, not having a real solid idea about the meaning behind the word. “It’s not,” Steve says dryly, looking at Eddie with pity.

Eddie shrugs, “Other than that, I just messed around. Ate turkey sandwiches and pumpkin pie — homemade this year, courtesy of Miss Catherine.”

Steve grins over at him, having been told all the gossip about reticent Uncle Wayne and their sharp neighbour. He lets out a little oooo like a child taunting a girl and boy holding hands at school. Eddie snorts: watching Wayne blush his way around Catherine while doing absolutely nothing in response does feel about as raunchy as watching first love innocently bloom.

“What about you?” Eddie asks. “Would you normally be doing anything?”

The sound of the falling ball stops, and Steve looks down at the white leather contemplatively. “Let’s see,” he muses. “1984… We’ll fly out to Chicago for the annual family dinner at great-grandfather Kingsley’s home. There will be bland conversation and even blander food. Uncle Robert will once again share his theory that immigrants are ruining this country, which Aunt Linda will object to for appearance's sake even while her husband will lean over to agree with Robert. Cousin Chester will point out that, no, clearly, it’s the gays since they’re being punished by God for their deviant ways.

“Then, just as everyone is nice and sloshed, trading catty barbs about who’s doing the worst in their career or their inability to pop out babies, my father’s mistress will arrive with the news that she is pregnant.”

Eddie has felt his mouth steadily drop and has no qualms about showing Steve how batshit insane he thinks his family is. Steve looks over, correctly interpreting his expression and nods with a wry smile and raised eyebrow like can you believe this shit.

“Oh, you just wait, there’s more. Tears are shed. Voices are raised. But we can all calm down because abortion is only a sin unless it is in this very specific circumstance.”

“Steve, your family is nuts,” Eddie chokes out. And he had thought that the pinnacle of family drama was Millie burning her cheating husband’s clothes over their grill in the front yard.

“No, no, no,” Steve tuts while wagging his finger, sounding like he’s mimicking an older woman, “crazy is for the poor, spirited is the term you’re looking for.”

He rolls his eyes heavenward, “That was only surpassed by Christmas ‘85 when Cousin Chester is outed by his girlfriend in a martini-fuelled breakdown over where she saw him last month and with who. Turns out being gay is also a sin — unless you have a passing fancy to stick your tongue down another man’s throat.”

He makes a tired rolling gesture with his wrists, “Followed by heartfelt promises to put a ring on it and never let himself be tempted by the devil again.” Steve pauses, shaking his head in disgust, “He runs for City Council Member the following year. Prick gets it too.”

Icy fingers run down Eddie’s spine at the disdain in Steve’s voice as he talks about his cousin. Is his dislike for Chester because his cousin is a bigoted hypocrite or because he likes to kiss men?

Contemplating that the answer may be both, Eddie’s gaze drops to stare down at his crude caricature of an evil aristocrat. If he curves the brows towards the middle of the eyes then the little lord will seem even more malevolent.

As if he senses his drop in mood, Steve pauses and calls Eddie’s name questioningly, but Eddie is focused on his drawing. Erasing the slashes on the forehead, he keeps his gaze down, wondering whether it’s worth shattering his expectations about Steve to ask and potentially get the answer that he dreads.

He thinks about it, letting his mind roll out the scenarios. Don’t ask Steve but know that he probably hates gays; feel disappointed, but perhaps not surprised, never, ever, ever show Steve that part of himself ever. Add another drop in the bucket titled coward.

Or maybe he asks, and Steve tells him outright that it’s a sin: of course Chester is going to hell. And, never, ever, ever show Steve the greedy shadows inside him that don’t just want other men but want Steve specifically. Overflow that bucket, drop a fat stone of self-loathing in it named spinelessness.

“Eddie, hey. You’re going to rub a hole through the paper if you keep doing that.” Steve gently plucks the eraser attached to the end of a pencil from Eddie’s grip. Eddie’s hands drop, the spread of his palms flat on the paper echoed in those icy fingers inching at the base of his throat, readying to strangle him.

Finally, because curiosity—whether for better or worse—will always prod at Eddie, he asks quietly, “Is it because he’s gay? That you don’t like him.”

He continues to stare at his spread fingers, unable to look up and see the confirmation flashing across Steve’s face. But he hears him huff out a breath.

“No, I don’t like him because he used to trip me at the bottom of the stairs when I was six and he was twelve. I think he’s ignorant because he sees the height of sophistication in a blonde girlfriend and an expensive watch. I believe he’s on the path to being an outright evil bastard because, even limited, he has power; he’s in charge of money that could help the people in his community, but he’ll either send funds on to friends for infrastructure works or he’ll disguise policies as family-friendly, but that actually means kill em’ all.”

Eddie’s eyes flick to Steve’s shirt before slowly rising to his face. It’s angry, red rising in his cheeks and eyes, “Chester has resources at his fingertips to tackle AIDs at a community level, but he won’t. And, okay, he’s obviously going through something if he’s sneaking off to kiss guys and I could empathise with that if he weren’t also a hypocrite complicit in literal deaths.”

Eddie remembers feeling a similar sentiment towards Tommy and wonders whether Steve has ever considered his former best friend in the same light. Whether he has an inkling of the torch that Tommy obviously carries for him.

“So, you don’t think he’s a deviant?” Eddie asks, hope warming him through and pushing those cold tendrils away.

“Better a deviant than a complicit prick,” Steve says hotly.

He pauses before adding, “And just for the record it’s not deviant, it’s not a sin. It’s love. And that’s better than what those assholes at Thanksgiving could manage.”

Eddie smiles down at his hands, it’s love echoing in his heart and head.

He swallows down the swell of emotion that wants to pour forward, to take another risk and ask Steve if that acceptance extends to the person sitting in front of him. But this is enough for now because it’s love rings through Eddie, giving him hope of being seen and loved himself.

Even if it’s never Steve, maybe romance and affection aren’t outside the grasp of a tarnished copper boy. Perhaps there will be kisses and hand holding and more, that Eddie has only been able to half dream of because it’s love. Because the opposite of deviance is normal, it’s okay, it’s right and true, and it’s because it’s love.

Eddie plucks the pencil/eraser from Steve’s fingers and starts to draw a hero who will cut down the evil lord at his knees, freeing the people from his suffocating reign.

“Okay, then,” Eddie challenges, “what other stories you got?”

Steve laughs, lounging back on the couch and tells him. Thud, swish, thud.

 

---

 

Eddie rolls off the couch with an exaggerated oomph, letting his limbs splay out, face pressed into the brown and white shag carpet. It’s musty but smells miles better after Steve’s regular jaunts at vacuuming. He hears more than sees Steve turn towards him from the cupboard. “You all right there, bud?”

Sabbath quietly roars in the background, telling him— no, compelling him to embrace the thrill of the night and Steve Harrington is calling him cutesy names like a toddler being picked up from kindergarten. Abruptly, Eddie becomes aware of how much flatter his ass must look in this position and he quickly rolls over, dark hair flopping over half his face.

Steve’s long body appears above him, looking down at Eddie with a quizzical expression and an unflattering double chin. Eddie hails the divine favour that blesses him at that moment, showing him that the world is full of more than only injustice: even Steve has an unflattering angle.

He’s holding an armful of freshly washed and dried bedding along with Wayne’s shirts and Eddie’s jeans; Eddie doggedly ignores the plaid red boxers sticking out between them. There’s no point in being embarrassed at Steve cleaning his unmentionables when they’re sharing anyway.

He blows at the curls that had clung to the bridge of his nose, “Why is life one long exercise in eating, cleaning, shitting out said eating, and then doing it all over again?” He squints his eyes up at Steve like he’s accusing him of being responsible for the natural order of the world, “I am ouroboros eating its tail, fallen into a cycle of life, death, and rebirth.”

Steve’s face crinkles in amusement before juggling the washing onto the lounge table they had pushed to the side. He starts to placidly fold Wayne’s shirts, “Right. I’m not sure what the oreo is, but I’m getting the feeling that you don’t feel up to making dinner tonight.”

“Sandwiches okay?” Eddie tilts his chin up to follow Steve’s movements, his neck pulling taut in a satisfying reach.

Steve’s eyes flicker as he watches Eddie stretch before he looks away, “We still have those eggs and the bacon? I’ll make pasta.” He leaves to shelve the folded clothes, Eddie’s head rotating as he watches that butt bounce away. He sighs up at the ceiling, Steve may have one unflattering angle, but he makes up for it in square footage. Maybe life is unfair after all.

Eddie hears Steve make a soft exclamation, “Oh, you kept it.” He looks over to see him pull out the bomber jacket that he’d been wearing when he first arrived, the tactical vest falling heavily to the ground after it.

“Oh, yeah. Shit, I forgot,” Eddie apologises. “I was able to wipe down those two, but the pants were infused with what smelled like gasoline, so I binned them.” He points a hand behind Steve, “The boots are in the back.” Steve has literally not left the trailer since he’d arrived nearly two weeks ago—as they agreed would be best—and it hadn’t occurred to Eddie to offer shoes.

Steve contemplates the vest fallen at his feet for a moment before shrugging, stuffing his clothes back into the cupboard followed by storing Wayne’s in a far neater manner. “That’s okay, not like I’ve needed them so far. But it’s good to know that I’ve got them.”

Shortly after, the sound of the fridge door and the clang of a pan tells Eddie that Steve has started in on dinner. Around them, curling in the air like smoke broken from a crystal ball, the music loses its urgency, rolling out into a steady, heavy pulse.

Eddie taps one long finger in appreciation for the beat, mouthing along with the beast is free to wander, but never is seen again. He wonders if Steve would appreciate the measured, deep rock of Led Zepplin.

He'd taken one look at Steve’s face while playing Motörhead and decided to slow-roll the guy into the harder genres of metal. If he has enough taste to appreciate Bowie then psychedelic rock probably isn’t too far behind, which really is just a hop, skip and jump to the masters Eddie loves. Christmas is coming, maybe he’ll get Steve Van Halen’s latest. They’ve moved in the direction of synth which has Eddie’s lip curling automatically, but he thinks Steve would like it.

The idea of it takes hold of him and Eddie imagines Steve over Christmas time, paper hat askew over thick locks and a pile of ripped paper at his crossed ankles. Eddie rolls, hauling himself upright to amble over to the kitchen counter. “Christmas is approaching, the fair jingle of bells and clanging of hooves exciting all the boys and girls.”

Steve huffs out a breath. “Yay,” he deadpans, “let all the boys and girls rejoice amongst themselves then.”

“Steve!” Eddie exclaims, splaying his palms on the counter across from him, leaning in with intensity, "that is the holy holiday you are talking about.”

Steve eyes him over the onion fumes, lashes only slightly damp. “You told me just last week that Thanksgiving isn’t worth celebrating.”

“But it’s Christmas,” Eddie whines, melodramatically dropping his arms to hang off the counter. Spreading his body in abject despair, he peeks through his hair to watch for Steve’s reaction. His lips twitch, but he remains unwavering in the face of Eddie’s completely real and justified distress.

Steve flicks a curl off of the wooden cutting board before starting to mash the garlic with the flat of his knife, “I don’t know what to tell you, man. You’ve already heard all the stories — if I could avoid the holidays, I would.”

“That’s sad, Steve,” Eddie says more seriously, straightening, “just because your Aunt Margaret nearly drowned when she went face down in potato mash doesn’t mean that Christmas isn’t a time of delight.”

“Yeah, you’re obviously a fan?” Steve prompts him as he turns to adjust the stove top temperature, water boiling in the pot as he adds a clutch of long pasta. He doesn’t break it like Eddie would, to save time; instead, he pokes at the softening strands until they’re all safely tucked under the bubbling surface.

“It’s fun,” Eddie shrugs, watching Steve’s hands flex and confidently move. “Mama used to put up tinsels and decorations; so many different colours that it probably looked tacky to adults, but I loved it. She’d play Bobby Helms and dance with me under the lights. I’d look up and it was like the stars of the night exploding with fireworks, just for us.”

Eddie sighs wistfully as the cascade of images falls gently, flipping through his mind with the soft brightness that only comes from fond, faded memories. “Her fruitcake was the best.”

Steve’s face twists into a dubious cast, “I’ve never come across fruit cake that wasn’t a combination of cardboard and brick.”

“Well, you haven’t had my mama’s then,” Eddie retorts.

Breaking eggs apart into a bowl, Steve’s smile is small and enigmatic as he concentrates on separating the yolk. “No, I haven’t,” he agrees warmly.

Eddie sighs, “And when she died…”

Steve’s eyes flicker up, his body stilling. Eddie has the sense that he could unfold every tired secret from his past right now and Steve would sit for as long as it takes, listen with a kind ear, and perhaps even help heal a sliver of Eddie’s heart in the process. Instead, he says simply, “Let’s just say Pop didn’t think putting in the effort to decorate was a very manly endeavour.”

“Ah,” Steve says, understanding etched over his features.

Shaking off old aches, Eddie grins brightly, “But Wayne! Now, he’s a gentleman of discernment. Every year, he drags out his kitschy collection of mugs, plates, and cutlery designated for Christmas, along with a specific baseball hat usually stored away with his book of Christmas recipes — for all that he never uses it. And, on the twenty-sixth, everything is cleaned, dried, and packed away. He’s very particular about it.” Eddie winks, “I tell him that I get my weird from him, but he refuses to believe me.”

Steve laughs lightly as he drains the pasta. Once done, he turns to add the garlic and onions to the heated pan, the combination erupting with a violent hiss as the vegetables meet the hot oil. “Sounds nice, sounds like what family should be,” he admits.

Eddie hums in agreement, watching Steve deftly add, stir, and flip the ingredients. A clatter at the door has him glancing over to see Wayne walk into the trailer, he nods at the two of them in the kitchen before bending over to toe off his boots.

“Well timed, grubs up,” Steve says, smiling tentatively.

Wayne appreciatively sniffs the air as he hangs up his worn flannel jacket, “Smells good, let me just clean up.”

Steve ducks his head as Wayne walks past, concentrating on mixing the pasta and sauce and then plating it onto the bowls that he had prepared. Eddie has noticed a certain reticence about Steve in the face of his uncle and, at first, he had worried that Steve disliked Wayne. The more often he saw the wariness in Steve’s eyes though, the more Eddie’s become convinced that the cause is something different.

He’s not sure, but he doesn’t know how to ask either. Somehow do you have a problem with my uncle doesn’t feel right. The tone of it aggressive and ill-fitting between them. And, after he had assumed the worse of Steve and his attitude towards his cousin, Eddie has felt the unexpected urge to give Steve space and time to tell him what he’s feeling without Eddie pushing and prodding it out of him.

With a flourish, Steve grinds pepper over the tops of the pasta and pushes two servings into Eddie’s hands. They sit on the couch, the slight sag in the middle pulling them together. Flicking on the television, Eddie passes over the extra bowl to Wayne as he walks past. A metal hinge squeaks as he settles heavily into the armchair, letting out a tired sigh.

The sound of studio laughter rings out when Mork lets out an exuberant na-nu na-nu and Wayne chuckles too as Mindy’s father falls into a musical battle of piano versus keyboard with his mother-in-law. Steve’s eyes flicker to Wayne at the noise, but he remains silent, steadily nibbling away at his dinner.

The uncertainty of it all fills Eddie with a swelling tension. Rather than letting loose the giggle that tickles at the back of his throat, he hums exuberantly around a big mouthful of creamy noodles. “This is delicious.”

Wayne glances over at Eddie’s enthusiasm with a raised brow, but he doubles down. “Best pasta we’ve had in a while, right, Wayne?” Steve turns to look at Wayne and Eddie rises a brow right back at his uncle, staring meaningfully over the back of Steve’s shoulder.

Wayne’s eyes fill with a subtle humour before gradually nodding, “Much better than most of what you cook.” Eddie huffs indignantly: he’s trying to open the channels of communication not open himself up to potshots. “I think I remember someone burning eggs the other day — that takes real skill.”

Steve snorts, quickly looking down at his bowl as if to hide his reaction.

Wayne warningly points a fork at Eddie, “Watch it. I’ve seen you manage to cut yourself open while eating an apple, you’ve no room to talk.”

“I’m happy to keep cooking,” Steve interrupts, finally raising his head to glance between them and looking strangely hopeful. “It’s the least I can do while you put me up.”

“It’s a kindness,” Wayne says with an approving nod. “Nice coming home to a hot plate.”

“I cook!” Eddie cries, embarrassment riding high in the reds of his cheeks.

“You make sandwiches,” Wayne pointedly observes.

“Yeah, well—” Eddie squints accusingly as he waves a miffed fork above him. Steve ducks before it gets stuck in his hair, eyes gleaming in amusement as Eddie continues to protest, “You’re the one who taught me. Those in glass houses, old man.”

“My house is just fine, Eds. But, yes,” Wayne finally agrees, tipping the bowl forward to show it half-eaten, “this is the best pasta we’ve had in a while, bar Catherine’s lasagne, of course.”

Of course, Eddie mimics in his head and rolls his eyes, the man’s head over heels and can’t even admit it.

“A dash of parmesan would make it better, so it’s a little plain,” Steve offers, smiling slightly like he’s pleased with their reactions.

Wayne pauses before saying, “Give me a list and I’ll make sure to get you what you need.”

Steve nods a little stiltedly, but the tension that had filled Eddie steadily leaks away, allowing him to breathe more fully. The air is clear and all three men grin or chuckle as Mindy assertively dips Mork, passionately kissing him.

Accordingly, Eddie doesn’t think much of it when he walks in on Steve the next day talking quietly to Wayne, not since he hands over what is clearly a shopping list. And coming home from school the next two days is a delight as Steve serves beef burgers and then meatloaf. If asked, Eddie would normally say that home smells like a combination of Winstons and Wayne’s aftershave, but now he mentally tallies in the aroma of Steve's cooking.

Steve laughs later as Eddie says as much, casually slotting the leftovers of the meatloaf and salad into the fridge. “Half the time it’s just the onion and garlic you’re smelling, Eddie.”

Eddie bites down on his lip in happiness as he heads to the bathroom to brush his teeth, feeling delightfully full of a satisfyingly hot meal and giddy at listening to Steve’s laughter. He sticks his head out the door, calling out teasingly, “But it’s what you do with it, Steve-o. It’s divine.”

“I think we should take your magnificent talents out onto the road,” Eddie continues, speaking around a mouthful of minty foam. He turns into the kitchen, “I’m not saying we’ll sell your body, just your hands…”

The fridge door is hanging open and the kitchen is empty, electricity humming steadily in the background. An awfully familiar feeling runs through Eddie as he dully watches the light inside switch off with an absent clicking sound. Carefully shutting the white appliance, he leans over the sink to spit out the building saliva in his mouth.

Eddie leans against the counter, the hard slab digging into his lower back but also acting as a needed support. “Steve,” Eddie calls out listlessly, already knowing that he won’t hear an answer.

There is none and Eddie nods to himself.

Right, Steve’s gone but he’s come back before. This was his third visit and a fourth is more than likely. This time too, Eddie won’t have to uselessly fret at the idea of Steve hurt and bleeding out. Maybe a couple of weeks will pass for Eddie, but from Steve’s perspective seconds will pass and then he’ll drop onto Eddie’s floor once more.

In time for Christmas too, Eddie determinedly decides.

It’s only been three times but, so far, the pattern has shown Steve staying longer and taking less time to come back to him. Christmas is three weeks away and the longest stretch of absence was four weeks; therefore, it’s reasonable to expect him to fall through his portal with an oomph and ready to celebrate the holidays with the Munsons.

He’ll make it a good one, too. Eddie will replace memories of drunk Aunt Marge and asshole Cousin Chester and Steve will laugh at Wayne’s Rudolph plates and pinken in delight at Eddie’s gift.

He believes it with firm resolution while in the heart of Hawkins Records on Main Street, Eddie handing over the cash to pay for Van Halen’s 1984. Tucking the cassette away into the pockets of his leather jacket with a faint pat for protection.

He knows it to be true in the school cafeteria, the tables buzzing with students more than ready for a holiday away from homework, tests, and the drama that comes with shoving a few hundred kids together in one small space. Gareth passes over his banana to Jeff, even as the latter bemoans sharing a car backseat with his sisters for their coming road trip. Eddie grins at him in sympathy while also swearing that this is the one Christmas Steve won’t have to travel to cold Chicago.

Wayne finally declares a week before the day that it’s time to put up the Christmas tree. Eddie had told him that Steve needed to leave suddenly, but that he would be back. Not saying much of anything about it, Wayne had simply nodded his acceptance and let Eddie put off decorating until the last minute. But he’d clasped Eddie to his chest with one arm around his shoulders, thawing a little of that cold fear inching towards Eddie’s heart.

Later, as he stares down at the yeti tree topper that he thinks Steve will get a kick out of, his uncle clasps a warm palm to his shoulder and shoves a hot chocolate into his hand. Eddie takes it with an appreciative sip, smiling in thanks and getting back to making the tree look perfect.

The balloon of faith holds all the way to Christmas Eve, sitting cross-legged on his bed and carefully running his hands over Steve’s gift, making sure that the sharp corners of the plastic case hasn’t torn at the cheerful red and white paper dotted with stockings and candy canes. But it’s as the weak morning sun starts to shift and fill his bedroom the next day that Eddie lets that balloon deflate, a gradual surrender.

He chews at his lip, not even annoyed with letting himself hold onto hope because it had given him purpose. It had allowed him moments of anticipation which helped fill the Steve-shaped space that Eddie has rapidly come to expect next to him.

He is an old hand at losing the battle for the war and this is just a blip. So what Steve isn’t here today? It’s just another day and Eddie will see him soon again.

Eddie rolls out of bed with renewed determination, hair bushy and strides sure.

He and Wayne will cheerfully celebrate Christmas today and Eddie will tease Steve about all that he missed. Riling him up into a cute pout until finally handing over the gift that will just have to sit unopened for a little longer. Then Steve will listen to the music, humming along, and tell him that it was a perfect choice.

“Come on, old man, time for the magic of Christmas,” Eddie shakes the blanket burrito wrapped atop the couch bed.

A disgruntled sound comes from within its centre. “Eds, just one Christmas, for the sake of Christ and all that is holy on His day — let me sleep in.”

“Never,” Eddie sings, gaze snagging on the yeti tree topper. He looks away. “Come on,” he says, shaking what he thinks is Wayne’s shoulder, “I’ll make the annual Christmas pancakes, green dye included, and you…” Eddie takes pity on his hardworking uncle, “Take your time, but get up. For real.”

Later, bed folded away, pancakes consumed, and Brenda Lee rollicking on in the background, Eddie hands over his gift to Wayne: a wide-lipped red mug with love thy neighbour scrawled in cursive across it. Wayne huffs in amusement as he unwraps it before handing over his offering.

Eddie tears off the green paper with white reindeers in his usual savage exuberance. He’d opened his present from Wayne in a similar manner that first year together and it elicited such a genuine laugh of amusement from him that Eddie had been helpless to open a present in any other way since.

Beneath the festive wrapping is a cozy, grey, thick-knitted jumper, soft enough that it won’t irritate Eddie’s sensitive skin. Grateful, Eddie leans over to plant a loud, smacking kiss on Wayne’s whiskery cheek. Wayne serenely pats his shoulder in response, sipping from his new mug that’s already full of coffee.

Eddie is gathering the discarded paper torn to pieces around him when Wayne clears his throat. He holds another green-wrapped gift in his hand; curiously, the creases and folds reveal a thick round silhouette held tight against a circular backdrop.

Wayne pushes it into Eddie’s hand, saying gruffly, “He mentioned that he may not be able to make it. Didn’t have much choice from the sounds of it, but he wanted to leave something behind just in case.”

Looking down at the heavy package in his hands, something wobbles, tipping to the side within Eddie. In all his hopes and planning, he hadn’t considered that Steve would want to celebrate with them. Not after his clear expression of dislike for the holidays.

Swallowing around the lump in his throat, Eddie slowly unwraps the paper, sliding his nail under the plastic tape and neatly folding the wrapping beside his knee. As he unveils the gift, a medley of brandy and spice rises to Eddie’s nose and, in the centre of a familiar Reindeer plate, sits a fruit cake.

Slightly burnt on one side with a crack running through its middle, Eddie feels safe to guess that Steve had made it. Likely thinking of Eddie and the fond memories he still carries in his heart, sharing them with Steve who, in turn, returned the memories back through a thoughtful gift. On top of the uneven glaze, in Steve’s neat handwriting is a slip of paper that says Merry Christmas, Eddie.

Eddie’s smile bobs and dips before shining again; even falling through time, Steve is still with him.

 

 

Notes:

I just have so much fun comparing the supposed good family/home of the Harringtons versus Wayne Munson, living on a pull-out sofa for his nephew and immediately splitting his dinner into three bowls to share

also, Eddie abruptly rolling over because he's aware of how unflattering his ass looks at that moment is me fr 😅😂

Chapter 9: The Second

Summary:

Last chapter, Steve found a domestic rhythm with Wayne and Eddie after Thanksgiving only to disappear before Christmas, but despite blipping away Steve managed to leave a gift behind for Eddie.

This chapter, time without Steve flies by in a blink, but when he returns Eddie is left with an uneasy feeling that he has messed up.

Notes:

lol flat asses and the debatable value of fruitcakes were last chapter's hot topics, loved it!

and, I'm about to enter an intense work and study period 😬 so double and early release for Copper Boy💚 and Swift Wings🦇 this weekend

updates will still be weekly, but wish me luck!💪

Winter 1985

After Steve leaves, time moves unconscionably fast and yet syrupy slow. Christmas tumbles into New Year's and New Year's falls away in a quiet spectacular of fireworks and exuberant countdowns. Eddie returns to classes that pass in a blur of noisy rooms and corridors, while he continues to make muffled deals after school.

The dark of dead trees behind the school provided little shelter from the crisp white of the snow-clad ground, the heat from Eddie’s and his buyers’ chests escaping through mouths pressed against cupped hands: cold weather as an incentive for short but profitable interactions.

The trailer’s furnace had decided it was time for an undignified burial and Eddie and Wayne had scrambled to get it replaced in the dead of winter, Eddie’s extra cash helping to keep the essentials going.

Then the commotion of life would suddenly give way to a crawl.

The clamour of the outside world drifting away as Eddie found calm in an easy conversation between his fingers and the strings. Cocooned in the refuge of a dark room lit by soft lamps, he would sit in the centre of his bed, amongst messy sheets that he had once shared with Steve, an acoustic guitar in his lap, and contemplative eyes resting on a faded stain.

Not because the shape strikes fear in his gut anymore, but because it reminds him that this all has been too real. Steve hadn’t been some domestic fever dream spurred by too many bowls one night. The stain reminds him of the truth of Steve’s absence even as the aggressive melody of The Sentinel tumbles over into a melancholy strumming from his fingertips.

Afterwards, winter flies by in one heavy blink, filled with campaigns, band practice, and begrudging motions towards his schoolwork. Half-hearted assignments handed in, but at least he’s attending exams this year.

Yet, as Eddie increasingly fails to give his best at school, the tension between his shoulders and neck tightens further. What had started as a rope of responsibility loosely circling his body at the beginning of the year has come to life, every moment of dodging his work creating a mirror movement that twists and cinches the knot, an incremental shift that has thickened and twined, squeezing Eddie’s chest and steadily moving higher, threatening his neck.

If he's lucky he’ll complete a chapter of this term’s text before a new interest will take over the greedy gremlin in his brain, fuelling a creative conflagration of new ideas, new stories, new songs. It does nothing to complete the essay burning on his desk, but it’s still a welcome distraction from the building feeling that he is fucking up again.

He wouldn’t have even attempted a repeat if it weren’t for Wayne. Confessing his sins last year, Eddie had offered the obvious solution to his uncle: he may fail the class of 1983, but instead he’ll get a real job and start contributing, properly, to the household.

Wayne had shaken his head and Eddie’s guts had fallen to his feet in the sudden understanding that his high school nightmare was still a long road in front of him.

“While a diploma is not a magic potion from one of your games, a… a cure-all,” Wayne had gently explained, palm on Eddie’s shoulder. He knows Wayne had meant the gesture in comfort, but it had felt like a boulder of responsibility instead.

“Panacea,” Eddie blurted out, unable to stop himself. “A cure-all is called a panacea.” Wayne only gave him a steady look in response and Eddie ducked his head, long hair hiding his face. Ashamed that his mind works in all the moments that it doesn’t need to.

“But it’ll help you get a leg up,” Wayne continued to say. “I don’t want you stuck under the type of people who’ll only hire a high school drop-out. You’ll end up working a factory at fifty with aching joints and a bum back, looking down the barrel of your body steadily failing you even while it’s the only thing bringing money into the household.”

Eddie had bit his lip against the low-hanging fruit of a use your body joke. Swallowed around it, savagely downing the humiliation of failing, and the mortification he knew was coming when he walked through the doors of Hawkins High as a repeating senior in the Fall of ‘84. Because Wayne had asked him to do this and there is very little the man asks of him. So, he would.

And he did.

Eddie had absorbed the failure and rolled on. But rather than meeting the challenge, he has avoided it. Ducked and twisted and ran like he is so very good at and has ended up closer to the gallows than ever. With little interest in success, Eddie is plummeting quickly after failure again and any little distraction comes with its own wash of guilty relief.

And so, time passes, quickly then slow and then back again in its own special loop, but always with a little niggling question of whether today is the day that Steve comes back. A little hum at the back of Eddie’s mind that strikes sparks at each moment he thinks to share with the absent boy travelling through time. Turning to the Steve-shaped hole next to him, only for his shoulders to drop as he remembers that he’s not there.

The spark flashes again at the beginning of spring, as the first of March comes with its own inevitable celebration in the Munson household. Eddie sits on the couch, palms firmly pressed to his eyes and fingers wiggling cheekily, “Whatever could be coming this way?” he calls out, mock curiosity teasing through his tone.

The scent of smoke reaches his nose before he hears Wayne say with amusement, “All right, all right, open them up.” Eddie can almost hear him rolling his eyes.

Three slim candy-coloured candles are stuck in a rich, thick layer of red frosting, the bare hint of a golden-hued cake at its base. The room isn’t very dark, with the new season’s sun pouring through the parted curtains, but the small flickering flame draws Eddie’s focus like he is a moth. The traditions of his birthday settling the ongoing unease in his gut along with the affection in Wayne’s eyes.

His uncle leans forward, nodding for Eddie to hurry and blow out the candles and Eddie closes his eyes to think of a sun-kissed boy with bronze locks; he exhales his wish into the air.

“Happy birthday, Eds,” Wayne passes over the traditional Happy 3^rd Birthday, Big Boy! birthday card, this year with a child-like pirate stamped on the front, making Eddie grin in familiar delight.

Tearing his way through green Christmas wrapping reveals an orange plush material with two round eyes and a sardonic expression. Eddie barks out a laugh: Garfield slippers. He wiggles his feet into them immediately, they’re soft and comfortable and mocking all at the same time.

“Thanks,” Eddie says, happily. “I love them.”

Wayne smiles, and hands over a thick wedge of cake. The thing about Wayne is that he may burn eggs, but he’s a great baker. Every year is some variation of dessert, be it lemon or vanilla or almond or funfetti, and always with a little decoration tailored just for Eddie. An outline of a guitar, a lumbering bigfoot or, this year, devil horns topping the head of the p’s in Happy.

Eddie shoves a large forkful into his mouth, speaking around the crumbs. “You know,” he says as casually as one can with frosting already on the side of his cheek. He quickly rubs it off, but a lingering stain of red remains. “Catherine always sends nice dishes our way, I bet she would love a cake or sweet to dig into too.”

Wayne’s salt and pepper moustache twitches as he thinks, “I can’t imagine she’d think it’s very manly of me, covered in flour and whipping up egg whites.”

Eddie shoots him a mild look of reproach, what feels like a lifetime of Wayne helping him unpack what is and isn’t acceptable flashing between them. A large part of that had been Wayne telling him not to listen to brain-dead idiots. To definitely not listen to his brain-dead idiot of a brother, and his ideas of what constitutes a real man.

Wayne grimaces a little. “Old habits die hard,” he simply says, taking a thoughtful bite as he mulls over Eddie’s suggestion.

Eddie nods: they do. Sometimes a particularly vile thought will rise unbidden in his head and it’ll take him a moment or two to realise that it’s his brain parroting his father.

Wayne has never talked about it much, but Eddie has always gotten the sense that Pop’s attitudes about masculinity stemmed from similar attitudes held by their father.

“Is giving us Thanksgiving pie a girly thing or a generous thing?” Eddie muses, dragging his fork through the crumbs and dredges of buttercream, fondly thinking of a particular fruitcake long gone.

“You’re right,” Wayne gruffly concedes, “And the woman works herself half to death with all those shifts she takes at the hospital.”

“I bet it’d be nice to come home to pie she hasn’t made herself,” Eddie points out sensibly.

A gleam grows in Wayne’s eyes and Eddie is unsurprised to amble out of his bedroom one late morning to find Wayne about to exit the trailer, a Hummingbird Cake plated and in hand. “You go, Uncle Wayne,” Eddie crows and Wayne shoots him a mildly exasperated look before leaving.

Eddie doesn’t see him when he returns, but the edge of a smile plays at the old man’s mouth for the rest of the day.

Hawkins experiences an unexpected warm front with Eddie’s birthday, drying the air and bringing it with the chirps and melodies of awakening birds and the faint hum of industrious bees. The noon warmth of the sun on his exposed face is particularly rejuvenating as he sits reclined on the weathered couch outside his trailer.

Steppenwolf plays in the background, Eddie absently humming along to Magic Carpet Ride. Slouched on the opposite side, Randy takes a long drag of their joint. The cherry flaring before he lets loose a bellow of grey smoke, circling his head as if trying to recreate the fading clouds in the sky.

Eddie watches the trails dwindle away, sure that there are patterns to be found, but they keep sliding out of his head for the moment.

“It’d be a good item,” Randy says out of nowhere, his voice deep like a man’s where it had been breaking only six short months ago. He’s wrapped in a puffy jacket and blue jeans, long blonde hair tied low at the back of his neck.

Eddie languidly rolls his head to the side, allowing the sun to catch and warm his left cheek and ear. Maybe he’ll freckle and Eddie will match Steve’s constellation of beauty marks. Randy stares blankly out into the wood behind the trailers that give Forrest Hills its name until Eddie pokes him with his boot.

“A magic carpet,” Randy jolts up to explain, wrists moving expansively before handing Eddie the joint. It is their second, but the first one had been smoked out long ago and they were nearing the—gasp—heights of sobriety before Randy suggested another round.

He’s a good guy, Randy. A good D&D player, too, treading that line between thorough inspections of dungeon corners but also calling for the group to take action. It’s one of the reasons that Eddie allows him to come to the trailer for deals; he only allows friends to hit him up at home, liking to keep potential trouble with unknowns away from Wayne’s doorstep.

“You’re a mage…” Eddie starts to point out but is briefly distracted by a flicker at the trailer window. Mind slow and syrupy he thinks back: no, he’s pretty sure Wayne is with the guys this afternoon, playing poker.

Good luck to him, Eddie muses, eyes sliding back to the clouds again as he reminisces about the one time Wayne had allowed him to join. He had been immediately confused by the value of the printed cards and the order of winning combinations. And how come the joker, the best part of any pack, is defunct? Valueless, Eddie thinks sadly. He should have pocketed the bright jester, pin it on his mirror and give it a home that knows his worth.

Randy snorts out a laugh, “You are baked, man. Hello—” He snaps a finger in front of Eddie’s face and Eddie blinks. “Carpet of flying, I know they’re rare, but it’d be a fun item to play with in-game.”

Eddie’s grin is wide, the ideas of how his players can use the carpet immediately amusing. “It could hover along, serve snacks like those ladies at golf games.”

“Puffs itself up and acts as a bouncer at every open door,” Randy rejoins, giggling.

“Any time it comes across a mundane carpet it tries to challenge it to a dance off.”

“Mischievous thief and prankster!”

The two boys supply increasingly ridiculous ideas until they collapse against the couch, laughing. Eddie wipes a tear from his eye before sitting up, suddenly overwhelming hungry and needing to do something about it.

“Wait here — I know I’ve got some Lays in the cupboard,” Eddie stumbles up, but once he’s vertical the world seems a little sharper again. Honest mirth and fresh air somewhat clearing his mind of its tacky fog.

Randy moans loudly, “Yes! Please tell me you have Onion and Chives.”

“Gross. No,” Eddie exclaims as he swings open the screen door, his head hanging out of the door even as his body steps into the trailer, “You, my friend, are wrong and gross, and only Salt and Vinegar shall rule in this land.” Eddie grins as he hears Randy boo at him.

The good feeling sitting bright in his chest is only eclipsed at his delight and surprise at seeing Steve—his Steve!—sitting at the kitchen counter, poking desolately at a bowl of cereal.

He looks up as Eddie enters the room, eyes wary but Eddie doesn’t notice the shadowed expression as he runs forward, arms spread wide to fling himself at the other boy, wrapping them around Steve like long tentacles and hugging him upwards, nearly lifting him off of the stool.

“Steve!” Eddie exclaims, taking in the familiar smell of their shared shampoo and that special musky smell that’s just Steve, his Steve. Eddie rubs his cheek against his shoulder, the softness of the Dio shirt feeling exquisitely smooth to his weed-heightened senses.

Eddie leaves his cheek resting on Steve’s shoulders, eyes closed and nose in the crook of his neck. “Where were you?” he murmurs. “I’ve been here all winter and you left me.”

“Eddie, you okay?” Randy’s deep voice calls out and Steve stiffens in his embrace; his friend must have heard Eddie’s exuberant welcome, but he can’t come in, Steve is his secret.

“Yeah, one sec,” Eddie yells out, mouth nearly touching Steve’s neck and Steve flinches away at the explosion of Eddie’s voice next to his ears.

“I think your friend is waiting for you, Eddie,” Steve says from somewhere above. But he draws his upper body away too, pulling Eddie’s arms off from around him and Eddie pouts at the movement.

If Steve is absent for so long then the very least he can do is give cuddles in compensation. He had been right that first morning together: when Eddie forgets to keep to his side of the bed, Steve does give excellent first-wake-up, sleepy morning cuddles.

Tugged back so that he stands out of Steve’s immediate space, Eddie happily catalogues the minutiae of Steve’s face. He’s counting the fourth beauty mark when Steve calls his name questioningly. “I, uh, can smell you’re probably a little high right now, but I think your… friend is waiting for you out there.”

“What? No!” Eddie exclaims, but quickly quietens his voice at the memory of Randy calling for him. “I see Randy all the time.” Steve’s face tightens.

Eddie remembers again that Steve is a top-secret, time-travelling soldier. “Oh, but yeah, shit. We don’t want him seeing you, he’s my buddy from Hellfire so he’d definitely recognise King Steve.” Eddie giggles, the image of Randy’s mouth dropping as he drags Steve out of the trailer tickling his funny bone.

Steve slides off the stool, jaw working as he steps around Eddie, “Like I said before: I don’t want to cramp your style and I could do with a nap anyway. Later.” Steve walks away, his broad back disappearing into the bedroom.

The door closes behind him with a firm and quiet snick.

Eddie stares down at the half-full bowl on the counter for a long minute; Steve doesn’t usually leave meals unfinished and he’s almost anal-retentive about cleaning up after himself once done.

“Eddie, oh my god, where are the chips, man?” Randy’s voice booms from outside again and Eddie startles, unsure at how long he had been staring at the amber reflecting in the afternoon light. He feels like he’s missed something important, but he’s finding it hard to get his slow thoughts to pinpoint anything from that short interaction with Steve.

Exiting the trailer he throws the bag at Randy’s head, who grabs it with a cackle and pulls it open with relish. Eddie shakes his head when Randy offers the bag, but his friend asks with a frown, “Are you okay? Was there something back in there? If it’s a massive spider, man, you’re on your own. My mom is the fighter class in our household.”

Eddie stares out at the distant trees, “You ever get the feeling you’ve fucked up, but you don’t know how?”

Randy hums around a mouthful, a scattering of salt and fat smeared across his upper lip. “Like all the time, isn’t that what school is for?”

Randy finishes off the bag even as Eddie falls into an introspective mood. Picking up on the general low vibe, Randy smacks his hands on his knees, thanking Eddie for a chill session and tells him to think about adding a carpet of flying to their loot one day.

Eddie nods, grateful for the fun of the afternoon and that he has a friend who doesn’t overstay his welcome when Eddie’s mind is all mixed up.

The sun is starting to set when Eddie decides to head back in, the bright orb hanging low and the shift of shadows edging the afternoon from cool into a shivering cold. He empties and cleans the abandoned cereal bowl left in the kitchen and curls up on the couch, pulling a blanket over his body and falling asleep to the canned laughter on the television.

 

 

Notes:

lol Eddie, my man, you stink like weed 🍃and are so spaced out 😭

also, 💫fun fact💫 a fair few of my chapter titles are based on the music, novel, or film referenced that chapter. 'The Second' is not only a play on winter passing like one long blink for Eddie, but it's also Steppenwolf's 1968 album that the boys are listening to ~ and also because 'Magic Carpet Ride'🎵 will be returning in one of my later, favourite scenes 💚

Chapter 10: No Outsiders, But One

Summary:

Last chapter, Steve returned while Eddie was high and having a good time hanging out with his friend, Randy. Unable to put his finger on it while stoned, Eddie was nevertheless left with the uneasy feeling that he messed up somehow.

This chapter, Steve is being slippery again and a medical concern has Eddie insisting on outside help.

Spring 1985

Jerry Lewis is waxing nostalgic in the background when Eddie wakes on the couch, the thin blanket now folded into his embrace and under his cheek. Wayne stands curled over Eddie in his grey pyjamas, hand gently shaking his shoulder. “Come on, Eds. Time to go to bed.”

Eddie smacks his lips, mouth dry as the Sahara, while whisps of the afternoon come back to him. “Can’t,” Eddie mumbles, stumbling over his words while sleep still grips him, “Steve. Bed.”

“Ah,” Wayne says understandingly, pulling Eddie up by the arm. He pushes him towards his bedroom, already starting to unfold the cushions. “That’s good then, go on. It’s not the first time you’ve shared, and God knows you’ll be doing it again from this point.”

Eddie nods tiredly, that’s right. Steve doesn’t have much choice other than to share and they’d already agreed that it was okay, but a flicker of unease lingers from their uncertain greeting in the afternoon.

Quietly opening the bedroom door, he sees that the room is pitch dark except for a sharp triangle of moonlight that runs across the floor and bottom of the bed. Eddie can’t see Steve’s face. He shuffles to his side of the bed, tempted to stick his arms out and tiredly moan like a zombie from Dawn of the Dead. He doesn't, but it's as Eddie edges under the blanket that he wonders if he's woken him.

“Steve?” He calls softly, but there is no answer. Eddie allows his lids to heavily fall and sleep to take him back once more.

When Eddie wakes again, the morning light is creeping through the window, tentatively banishing the shadows that linger in the corners of his room. He hears the Hamiltons start to get into it and groans, pushing his head into the soft pillow. How can they have the energy first thing in the morning—first thing on a Sunday morning—to fight? Barbarians, the lot of them. The raised voices inexplicably remind him of yesterday and the fact that Steve is back.

He peeks through the hair fallen around his face to see the other side of the bed is empty. Shooting his hand out to touch the mattress he can feel that it’s still warm: yesterday wasn’t a dream. He hadn’t imagined Steve coming back; it’s just that he had left Eddie alone in bed.

A jitter of nervousness crawls up Eddie’s spine and he rolls out from under the covers, determined to make certain that… well, he’s not sure actually. He just knows that his instinct is telling him that something is wrong.

He finds Steve in the kitchen, quietly making breakfast. Wayne’s steady droning buzzes in the background and he looks up while pouring orange juice into a Pizza Hut tumbler; on it is stamped a childish Fred Flintstone in a design reminiscent of a church’s haloed saint, glimmering with a mysterious smile on a stained-glassed window.

Steve’s smile is easy as he greets Eddie, “Hey, I didn’t want to wake you. Want some OJ?”

Eddie takes the proffered drink and perches on the kitchen stool to observe Steve, he fidgets with the glass. Tilting Fred back and forth until the juice threatens to spill wetly onto the turquoise counter. Steve twists the bread bag and ties it with a flourish, “So we’re past winter already? Are we in ‘85?”

Nodding in confirmation, Eddie carefully watches Steve’s easygoing demeanour.

“I wish I had a way of knowing when I land.” He grimaces with a rueful shake of his head before turning as the toaster pops, “At least I know where I am, am I right?”

Steve’s body language and tone are all light, carefree even, but Eddie can’t help but feel there is more underneath the surface. Is Slippery Steve making an appearance again?

Racking his brain though, Eddie can’t think of what Steve might be hiding. Chews his lip at the thought that Eddie may be happy to see Steve, but it could be a different matter for Steve at seeing Eddie again. Perhaps their time after Thanksgiving had been a domestic fever dream.

Steve’s back is to Eddie, the scraping sound telling him that he’s doctoring his toast. “If you’re still here at this time of the morning then I assume it’s the weekend? You up to much? Probably seeing the guys, right.”

“Nah, you’re back. I thought we’d hang out,” Eddie says, feeling wrong-footed but trying to style it out anyway. Figures if he has some more time with Steve then he’ll get to the bottom of the awkward atmosphere that is increasingly thickening between them.

“Look, Eddie…” Steve puts down the knife but doesn’t turn around, head hanging a little between the shoulders facing him. “I get that… I mean, it’s got to be a bit much, having me in your place all the time. And by no means am I trying to kick you out of your own home, because I’m grateful. I really am. But you don’t have to feel like you need to entertain me while I’m also taking over your space.”

Eddie feels like he’s been slapped in the face with a dead fish. “Steve,” he asks, frowning, “Where is this coming from?” Hadn’t they had a good time hanging out during his last visit?

Half the time they had pleasantly whiled away the hours talking about fuck all and the other half companionably coexisting, sharing thoughts on a magazine article or a line in a novel, or just watching repeats of the Brady Bunch while Eddie braided his lengthening hair and Steve whipped up dinner. It had been the best sort of easy.

“Nowhere,” Steve says shortly and Eddie fancies that he can hear the lie even if he can’t see it from his view of the back of Steve’s head.

Steve picks the knife back up, cutting the toast into triangles. “But you can’t even bring your friend around because I’ll be here; you can’t just hang out in your own place because I’m everywhere. So, I don’t want you to feel, like, obligated or anything because you’re saving my ass and letting me stay.”

Eddie cracks his knuckles, thinking. “Do you feel obligated to hang out with me since you’re stuck here?” he asks cautiously.

“What? No!” Steve spins in place, hands flying to grip his hips in clear annoyance. “You know it’s not the same. I’m the one… invading!”

“Maybe,” comes a muffled voice from the burrito on the sofa bed, “I can stay at home and the two of you can go out together today.”

Steve turns a deep ruddy red, eyes flying open and alarm glittering in their depths. He curses before turning and fleeing back into their bedroom. The peanut butter toast lies abandoned across from Eddie.

He looks over at his uncle, the dome of his bald head and the bridge of his nose showing above the covers, eyelids still hooded from sleep. “I’m happy for you that he’s back, Eds. But for Christ’s sake, have this conversation after I’ve had my coffee.” Wayne pauses, instructing Eddie before turning back onto his side, “Put the pot on and make me a coffee.”

Eddie glumly pulls out the ground beans from inside the fridge, measuring the dark granules into the paper filter of their old coffee maker. He watches the steady drip drip drip of the brew filling the glass carafe, running through that bizarre conversation in his mind. Had Eddie not been welcoming enough? Had he not made it clear how much he fucking loves having Steve around?

His eyes flicker over the cramped kitchen space to his slowly moving uncle in his bedroom slash living room. Or perhaps it’s that Steve, unquestionably from the right side of the tracks, is used to living in a house with double doors and open entryways with carefully cultivated lawns. Perhaps he’s finding it difficult to be shacked up in a trailer with little to speak for itself other than a bitching collection of decorative mugs and trucker hats.

Eddie pushes the thought deep down, reminding himself that he’d already begun questioning a lot of his assumptions about preppy King Steve of the present, let alone the genuinely good guy currently in his house.

Eventually, he trails after Steve with two mugs of reconciliation coffee in hand. He pushes open the door with his ass and spies Steve half-turned, shirt raised to his chest and trying to look at his fading injuries in the mirror. Steve had usually changed in the bathroom during his last visit, and Eddie is relieved to see the bruises healed and almost banished.

Their not-quite-a-fight seems to be forgotten as Steve says, “Hey, do you think these need to come out? They’re itching like crazy.” He stops himself from using his nails, but Steve still rubs at the sutured wounds with the meat of his palm, clearly trying to soothe the irritated skin.

Eddie carelessly places the mugs down on the bedside table, all doubts and uncertainties from the kitchen falling away in the face of Steve’s injuries. “I forgot to look it up,” he realises, angry at himself. “How could I forget when I was the one bandaging them?”

“To be fair, Eddie, I took over tending them after the third day,” Steve sensibly points out.

Eddie scowls up at Steve’s face before inspecting the deep pink flesh pushing against the black thread, “And I should have followed up.” He doesn’t know whether the colour around Steve’s wounds is normal. He doesn’t even know when stitches are supposed to come out. Eddie curses himself: he had stupidly assumed they were the dissolving kind.

He grabs the first aid book still resting on the kit and flips through it — he’ll never be able to go back to the library again. But it says nothing about sutures specifically other than to consult a medical professional in the case of significant tearing. He blows out a breath in frustration, his bangs fluttering with the force of it.

“I know we said no outsiders…”

Steve squints at him suspiciously but Eddie powers on, “…but Catherine is a nurse.”

“No,” Steve says instantly, firmly. “What if saying something to her ends up being the event that changes the future? Only you can know, Eddie.”

“Wayne already knows you’re here,” he raises gently. “He wasn’t a part of the original plan either.”

Steve’s jaw gets a stubborn cast to it, arms already folding over his chest. “Why can’t we just cut them out ourselves?”

“You say that like digging into your body with sharp objects on a random Sunday is totally reasonable and normal.”

“Better than stepping on a butterfly!

“Why are you so willing to risk your body, Steve?” Eddie whirls away in frustration, tugging at his hair. The sharp pain does little to clear the roiling emotion starting to rise in him. “I feel like every time I see you you’re hurt or need bandaging and you just shrug it off.”

“Because I have to, Eddie! Sometimes I just need to take the hit and keep moving. If I don’t people could die. The kids could get eaten. Robin could get tortured. And you’ll end up dead! I need to use the only thing I’ve got going for me and that’s my fucking body. So what if I get a little banged up?”

Eddie sucks in a shocked breath, “I die?”

“What?” Confusion runs over Steve’s face, his eyes blanking for a moment before he rapidly blinks like he’s rebooting. “No — I…”

Eventually, the light comes back into his expression and he shakes his head confidently, “No. I probably shouldn’t tell you this, but you’ll be okay. But only as long as we keep to the plan. Obviously, Wayne was unavoidable since this is his home, but that’s it.” Steve's tone urges him to understand, but Eddie is unmoved.

“And Catherine is necessary too, Steve.”

Eddie shakes off the momentary fear that had gripped him at the misunderstanding that he would die soon, the unwavering honesty in Steve’s voice reassuring. He gestures at his torso. “This is beyond me and a dinky little first aid kit.”

Steve’s eyes slide to the big green case in the corner of the room, “That’s not dinky, Eddie. That’s like a professional set-up.”

“Yeah, but my knowledge only runs so far. Please,” Eddie pleads, afraid that Steve is going to hurt himself further by trying to dig the stitches out himself, “I’ll get her to promise not to say anything. Catherine’s good people. If she says that she’ll keep quiet, then she will.”

Steve softens at Eddie’s distress, face twisting as if Eddie has physically wrangled the concession from him. “Okay.” His arms drop to the sides in defeat. “She has to promise first before she even hears about me.”

“I promise,” Eddie vows but he frowns, still lingering over what Steve had revealed. “If my thing wasn’t true, then…”

Steve drops heavily into the desk chair, head hanging between his shoulders and strands of falling hair not quite masking the devastation on his face. “No, the other things will happen. Have happened with the kids already. They nearly got eaten by dog versions of the demogorgons over Halloween — your last Halloween,” he clarifies.

“And Robin…” Steve draws a hand roughly over his face. “I’m here, before it’s even happened, and I’m going to let her go through all that again. Fuck.” He curses suddenly and viciously, slamming his closed fist hard against his thigh. Eddie winces and rushes forward as Steve moves to hit himself again.

Skidding to his knees in front of him, Eddie positions his elbows on Steve’s legs so he can’t continue to hurt himself and moves his hands up to cradle Steve’s doleful face. He squeezes his eyes shut as if to deny himself from taking any comfort that Eddie would offer.

“Hey, we talked about this. You said it: the big bad is pretty big and fucking bad, and you need to win or it’s end of the world time.” Eddie thinks rapidly and takes a guess with a silent prayer. “What would Robin say if she were here? What would she tell you to do?”

Steve's eyes crack open, a wet snort making its way out of his mouth. “Something like don’t be a dingus and do what’s right. I’ll see you on the bathroom floor.” His nose is red from keeping back the tears shimmering in his gaze and his warm hazel eyes are so, so sad.

“Right,” Eddie says in relief, thankful that his gamble had paid off. “She’s definitely terrifying then.”

“She can be very logical at times,” Steve admits.

They both smile, tentative, delicate things. Eddie strokes his thumb against the silk of Steve’s cheek, not knowing whether it’s better or worse that they’re dry under his touch. Steve’s eyes flicker between his own before his gaze runs more fully over Eddie’s face, pausing for a weighted moment on his mouth. Time freezes and Eddie thinks for a breathless second that Steve is going to kiss him. He can feel the warm wash of his breath over suddenly tingling lips.

But he doesn’t. Instead, Steve closes his eyes and drops the side of his head more fully into Eddie’s right palm, almost nuzzling it in comfort. It makes Eddie’s stomach flutter, watching Steve — so unwilling to seek help for the most part but leaning on Eddie for support in this moment. Putting aside all of his stoicism and bravery to find sanctuary literally in Eddie’s hands.

Eddie can’t help himself and he slowly stretches forward, giving Steve time to back away, and places a gentle kiss against his forehead. Pressing a promise against his skin that Eddie will always be the safe place for Steve to land, the person he can be soft and vulnerable with and take from whatever strength he needs. He hears Steve draw in a ragged breath like he can hear the vow as clearly as a spoken declaration voiced into the quiet air between them.

Holding Steve like a heart in his hand, Eddie nearly brushes another kiss against him, just a simple comfort but pressed to the bridge of his nose this time, over those two little creases that appear more often than Eddie likes.

But he takes his self-control in a stranglehold and pulls away because he knows that once he starts then he won’t want to stop. And Eddie will follow those innocent kisses with an experimental press against Steve’s lips. But Steve doesn’t deserve that: for Eddie to push his desires on him in a moment of openness and trust.

He clears his throat, drawing back to meet Steve’s uncertain gaze. Unable to abstain from offering a last bit of comfort he strokes his thumbs against him once more before bringing his hands down and resting back on his heels.

“You’re doing the best you can in a situation you have very little control over,” Eddie reassures Steve. “Just. Let me help where I can, okay? And that means trusting me to look after you too.”

The lines of Steve’s face eases, those two creases vanishing for the moment, and he smiles, albeit it’s a little wobbly. “That sounds nice actually.”

“Okay,” Eddie says decisively and deliberately brightening his tone, “you wait here. I’m going to go ask Nurse Catherine if she’s willing to see a patient on the down low. It’s Forrest Hills, it can’t be the first time.”

“If she’s anything like your uncle, maybe take her a please-let-me-bug-you-on-a-Sunday-morning mug of coffee.”

Eddie’s grin is lightning fast, “Good idea.”

As it turns out, it’s not the first time and Catherine has a fairly placid reaction to Eddie turning up on her doorstep on a weekend morning asking for secret medical assistance. “You’re lucky my rotation changed recently, or I would have left you a surprise in your van for waking me after a night shift,” she acerbically observes. Her auburn hair is fluffy around her round face and, despite being a head shorter than Eddie, he feels like she is looking down at him from a looming height.

He shuffles his feet as she retreats into her home, reappearing with her own kit in hand and following him back to his trailer. “And why can’t I mention your friend elsewhere?”

Eddie eyes her nervously as he opens the screen door but she only sighs, “I promised that I wouldn’t say anything. All I’m saying is that you better not be getting me involved in anything too illegal.”

Eddie smiles broadly, infusing as much charm into his movements and voice as he can, gesturing for her to enter before him. “Scouts honour, no illegal happenings in this humble abode and we very much appreciate your help.”

She lets out a robust snort before striding ahead of him, still regal as a queen. As they walk in, Eddie realises he hadn’t thought to warn his uncle about the possibility of a visit from Catherine. Otherwise, he probably would have changed out of his pyjamas, a novelty pair that Eddie had gifted him in a tasteful grey cotton with Bugs Bunny chewing on a carrot replicated across the material from shoulders to ankle.

Seeing them, Wayne startles upward and nearly knocks over his second mug of coffee.

“Catherine, what are you doing here?”

Catherine smiles like the cat that caught the canary, eyes trailing over Wayne. “Good morning, Wayne, nice jammies.”

Eddie is delighted to watch his uncle turn a deep crimson, but it’s as he stumbles over how to respond to her unexpected appearance that Eddie takes pity on him. Feeling bad for springing Catherine on him when he hadn’t been expecting it.

He steps in between the charged atmosphere between the two older adults and explains to Wayne, “Steve had some stitches put in a couple of weeks ago, but they weren’t dissolvable like we expected. Catherine’s agreed to do us a solid and help take them out.”

Catherine drags her bright eyes away to contemplate Eddie for a moment before turning back to Wayne with a more serious mien, “Eddie wants me to keep this a secret, is there anything I should be wary of, Wayne?”

Wayne has his blushing under control by this point and shakes his head, “No. Eddie’s Steve is a good boy, he just needs an extra hand at the moment.” It’s Eddie’s turn to blush at Eddie’s Steve, suddenly deciding that he doesn’t want to know what Wayne thinks of their bed-sharing arrangement after all.

“Okay, your word is enough,” Catherine says simply. “Eddie, do you want to show me the patient?”

“Ah, that’s me,” Steve says, standing in the bedroom doorway, his hand running through his hair. “Thank you for this, Eddie and Wayne have a lot of good things to say about you and I appreciate the help.”

“Right,” Catherine says brusquely, though Eddie wonders if that light dusting of pink over her cheeks is at the idea of Wayne talking about her. “Eddie said you have lacerations on both sides? Wayne, move over and let the boy take a seat. I won’t be crouching down while he slouches on the couch.”

Wayne hurriedly moves with a mutter that sounds like I’ll just get cleaned up then. He disappears like a gust of smoke while Steve takes his stool, shamelessly pulling off his shirt in an easy movement that leaves Eddie wondering whether it’s based on the familiarity of a jock regularly disrobing in the lockers or simply from the confidence that comes from looking that good. Despite the slashes of black and the still red pockmarks, his shoulders are broad, arms firmly muscled, and the thick pelt of his chest hair makes Eddie want to bite something. Preferably Steve.

He clears his throat and Eddie looks up to see a smirk spreading across his handsome face, “Does it look that bad?”

“Stevie, you’ve never looked better,” Eddie says honestly. He moves past them to get a drink, mouth suddenly dry. “Catherine, you want a coffee or water while I’m here.”

“No, hon,” she says, bending over to inspect Steve. “You’ve had them in for about three to four weeks?”

“You can tell, huh?” Steve observes wryly.

She hums, “They’re irritated but not infected, and past due to be taken out. It shouldn’t be a problem, but it may hurt a little more than usual; the skin has probably healed onto the sutures more than we’d like.”

“Will that need extra care?” Eddie asks, sipping his water.

Steve smiles slyly, “Show her your first-aid bag, Eddie.” He lowers his voice conspiratorially to Catherine, “It’s a big one.”

Catherine snorts and eyes Steve with renewed interest while Eddie flushes red and flees to his bedroom. Maybe he will show Catherine, respected nurse of Forrest Hills, the preciously built kit that he had put together for ungrateful, injury-prone boys. He walks back into the living room in time to hear Catherine let loose a peal of laughter, Steve’s chuckles following softly behind.

They look over at him, framed in the hallway and holding the bright green bag with its white cross and burst into laughter again. Eddie frowns, “Why do I have the feeling the joke’s on me?”

Catherine's humoured expression subtly deepens, gloved hands efficiently snipping at the thread and tugging them out with her hooked scissors. Steve’s amusement is cut short by an involuntary flex of his stomach and a quiet hiss.

“No, not really. Steve here was just telling me about how you looked after him. And I never realised how much you take after your uncle: he has a caring streak a mile wide too.”

Eddie sees that Wayne has settled himself in the armchair in the far corner of the living area, but the newspaper in front of his face isn’t high enough to hide the pleased smile that spreads at the corner of his mouth.

“It sounds like you did a good job, though,” Catherine continues. “Open up your kit, show me what you used and how you went about it.”

Steve’s eyes are squinted a little in pain so Eddie hams it up, telling the heroic story of a medic faced with a wily young soldier dodging and twisting away until Eddie had tied him to a chair and applied his nefarious tools of healing.

“Oh, Eddie, I don’t need to know that much about your private life,” Catherine chuckles, sending a wink Wayne’s way.

Eddie’s gaze flies to Steve’s, daring to look for his reaction to the suggestion of the two of them engaging in bondage. Rather than the humour that he expects, Steve is staring at Eddie with an intense, burning gaze that starts to draw a similar heat under his own skin. Eddie’s vision becomes tunnelled and, like being drawn to the fire flickering above a candle, he can’t look away from the dark desire curling through Steve’s eyes.

That is until Catherine tugs particularly hard on one stubborn stitch, causing Steve to wince and flinch away. They both look down to see him sluggishly bleeding in some of the areas from the now-removed silk threads. Catherine notes the sudden concern on Eddie’s face, “That looks worse than it is; he’ll be fine once we clean him up.”

She disinfects the area and Eddie can see that the bleeding has already stopped. While she smooths fresh dressings over Steve’s closed wounds, Eddie takes the moment to pack his bag and cool himself down from that odd moment with Steve.

“You did exactly what you should have,” Catherine tells Eddie, “and I’m impressed you remembered the gloves. Though wash your hands before you go touching everything next time and your equipment too. You ever thought about getting into nursing yourself?”

Eddie is a little flummoxed at the idea and says the only thing that’s ever occurred to him in relation to an actual career. “Uh, never. Not sure what I’m going to do in the future, really. Hoping rock star will pan out.”

Catherine straightens, piling the waste from her materials into a small disposable bag. She shoots him a stern look over it. “There’s nothing wrong with dreams, but it’s good to have a sensible back-up.” He sees Wayne nod to himself in the background, the traitor. “How about I lend you some of my old textbooks? You can look up suturing since you have some experience in it now. If you find it interesting, maybe think about giving nursing a shot. Lord knows we could always use more people that care.” She pulls her white plastic gloves off with a snap.

Eddie feels a flattered warmth spread through his chest; no one had ever looked at metalhead, drug-dealing Eddie Munson and said that they thought he’d be good at a profession. Even Wayne—who loves him deeply—has been doubtful about how Eddie can transfer his love for his hobbies and other passions into real-world currency.

A little tendril of hope tugs his mouth into a shy smile, “Yeah, that’d be cool. Thanks.”

Catherine stays for a mug of coffee and Eddie is surprised to watch as Steve joins her on the couch. Along with Wayne, the three of them chat about the everyday goings-on at the hospital and plant.

He snorts when Steve cattily observes that Wayne’s workplace kitchen nemesis is probably going to remain single with a dozen cats if he’s that slovenly at home. Catherine snickers and proceeds to share the atrocious habits of her own coworkers, shattering Eddie’s faith in the purity of those in the medical profession.

Content to be in the middle of some of his most favourite people as they chatter and laugh, Eddie settles cross-legged on the floor. He doesn’t know why it surprised him, to see Steve so social. The guy was formerly the leader of not just one but two sports teams: a role ostensibly requiring a certain amount of people skills.

Steve likes it too, he can see. The easy back and forth of conversation lighting his features. Eddie thinks he could freeze the picture of Steve tipping his head back in laughter and keep it forever, stored in a secret pocket over his heart; a precious image to turn to for when Steve leaves once again.

 

 

Notes:

me, writing Steve as self-sacrificing for the billionth time: ah yes, this is fresh and new, yum 😋

also, RIP Wayne being caught out in his novelty jammies by his crush 💀

Chapter 11: Rent Asunder

Summary:

Last chapter, Eddie assured Steve that he's doing the right thing in not changing the timeline while Catherine, their next door neighbour, removed Steve's stitches and encouraged Eddie towards a career in nursing.

This chapter, Steve insists on cuddles, it's Christmas in spring, and Eddie struggles with his attraction to Steve.

Notes:

I unexpectedly got roped into chaperoning a surf camp (waaaaaayyyy outside my comfort zone). there has been so much teenage drama, my dumb urban ass forgot to pack a jumper, and my battery is being eaten away as we speak. so an early release tonight otherwise it ain't happening any time soon 💚💫💚

Steve’s frustration in the kitchen after he returned continues to hover at the back of Eddie’s mind. The insistence that Eddie doesn’t need to entertain him uneasily leads to branching concerns, an insidious outstretching of prickly fingers pointing to Steve’s potential dissatisfaction with living here.

With his fall always coinciding inside the living room and his anxiety about affecting the timeline, Eddie knows that Steve has very little choice but to put up with their weird roommate situation.

It niggles at him, an increasing conviction that Steve needs more beyond what the cramped walls of their trailer can provide. His third visit before winter had done Steve good: the dark bags under his eyes disappearing and his torso healing in a way that has left him less stiff while reclining. But Eddie continues to wonder: what more he can offer Steve after he has been made into a recluse, stolen away from his friends, family, and time?

The concern jitters at the base of his spine, even as Eddie tries to ignore it, as they later ready for bed. Steve slides under the covers on the side closest to the door, pillows propped behind him. “I’m looking forward to when I can properly move in bed. I feel stiff as a board lying on my back, but anytime I turned over all I could feel were the stitches pulling.”

Next to the window, dark but for distant yellow lights, Eddie perches on the other side, pulling off his socks. He likes his feet warm, but socks between sheets drive him mad. “What about now that they’re out?”

Steve squints and does a wiggly little shake that makes it look like he’s got ants in his pants but is likely him testing the range of his movement. “It’s better. I think tomorrow or the day after I won’t feel any of it, but Catherine is mean with those tweezers.”

“She’s pretty ruthless,” Eddie agrees, stretching out on the far side of the bed, the usual length he leaves between him and Steve yawning between the two of them. “Think she’d get along with Robin?”

“Like a house on fire,” Steve agrees swiftly, but he eyes Eddie’s isolated position doubtfully. “Why do you do that? Scoot all the way to the side,” he clarifies at Eddie’s confused expression.

Eddie thinks that he probably shouldn’t say because I’d like to rub up all over you and I only have so much control, so he settles for a different truth. “Just trying to give you some room, I practically suffocated you under all this hair that first morning.”

An enigmatic expression flashes across Steve’s face too quickly for Eddie to understand, but he watches as Steve’s smile begins and broadens as he says, “So you have no moral objection to cuddles. You’re just trying to give me space for my sake.”

Eddie nervously adjusts the pillow under him, trying to puff out what is dolefully flat and feeling like he’s fallen into some sort of trap. “Yeah?” he agrees uncertainly.

“So, if you’re faced with me—a guy who happens to really enjoy cuddles—and you wanted to make sure that I felt comfortable, which may mean less space, then you’d want to help me out too?”

“Steve,” Eddie says slowly, wondering at that fever dream theory again, “are you asking me to cuddle you?”

“Hmm,” Steve taps a thick finger against his chin, as if in deep thought. “I do like being the little spoon, but I don’t think I can handle it with my right side at the moment. How about this…?”

Now, Eddie may not be the biggest guy, but he’s still a guy and he’s not light and his limbs are sufficiently long, thank you very much he mentally retorts to Jeff, who had razzed him two years ago ago before his growth spurt. This all runs through his head as Steve reaches over and efficiently tugs Eddie closer to the middle of the bed and then easily flips him over so that he’s curled on his side facing the window—which, all the manhandling would normally be sufficient to make his blood drain south, but then Steve curls up behind him too.

Resting Eddie’s head on his outstretched left arm, chest against back, he keeps a respectful distance between hips and ass. One broad hand spreads over Eddie’s hips, the tips of his fingers just reaching the top of Eddie’s thighs.

Eddie freezes under the burning palm, a welcome brand that he’s sure he’ll find on his skin tomorrow morning, but Steve isn’t deterred. “This okay?” he whispers, the warmth of his breath washing over Eddie’s neck, causing him to shiver.

“Yes?” Eddie squeaks.

He feels silent amusement rumble through Steve’s chest. “Are you sure?” he persists, voice rising to a normal volume and easygoing. “If it’s too much, I can back off.”

No, no. Eddie’s pretty sure he’d like to live in this moment for the rest of his life; Steve’s body one long line of heat against his, curled around Eddie like they’re lovers. And, really, he’d just been thinking about how to make Steve’s stay better for him. If Steve needs to be the big spoon, who is Eddie to deny him?

He tries to style out his suddenly fervent opposition to Steve pulling away with a joke, “You touch-starved, Stevie?”

Steve’s silent long enough that Eddie turns his head to look over his shoulder. His face is guarded like he’s waiting for Eddie to make fun of him, but he nevertheless chooses to share his thoughts. “Probably, something like that,” Steve finally admits. “I do like cuddles. You know, hugs and shit, but it’s not really allowed… as a dude unless it’s after sex, and my family for sure aren’t the hugging kind.”

Remembering Steve brushing his teeth as he admitted that there was no one to call at home, Eddie’s lips firm in resolution and he turns back over to his side, grabbing Steve’s right arm and pulling it firmly from his hip to rest against his chest, drawing Steve that little bit closer. “I like hugs and shit too, nothing wrong with that.”

Steve lets out a relieved sigh, stirring the loose curls of Eddie’s hair. “Good to know,” he murmurs, resting his forehead on Eddie’s shoulder. The two of them together like lost puzzle pieces found, and Eddie wonders if he’s the only one who hears the little snick as they fit into place.

It’s the best sleep he’s had in months, feeling safe in Steve’s arms as if he has his own sentinel now, curled around him protectively during the night. Steve looks similarly rested the next morning, eyes bright and clear, with his arms loosely clasped around Eddie’s waist. He’d unconsciously shifted in the middle of the night, turning so that he was face-to-face with Steve. Rather than any awkwardness that Eddie may have expected, he simply rewarded him with a sleepy smile and an affectionate squeeze before rolling out of bed.

Eddie figures if he needs to take a couple of extra minutes to allow his galloping heart to calm down each morning, then that’s a price he is more than willing to pay. And if spends a little extra time in the shower too, well, at least a good time is had because arousal already simmers low in his gut first thing let alone with a biteable Steve so close at hand.

It’s not the only thing that becomes taken in hand after that, the shower each morning pounding down on his shoulders as he releases the tension building in him. Lotion on his hand and around his dick, stroking himself to the memory of Steve wound around him from behind.

He allows his imagination to roam, creating a false memory of a bold Eddie seductively pressing back, turning his head to meet Steve’s darkening eyes, his gaze trained on Eddie’s lips as he pushes up against him, dragging his rigid length against Eddie’s ass. He imagines Steve’s hands biting into his hips, holding him still as he rhythmically moves over him while his lips descend to take Eddie’s.

The thought of Steve grinding on him, using him for his pleasure causes his hunger to flare. It creates a fiery conflagration that has him biting down on his moans, coming almost violently across the white tiles. The euphoria that slowly seeps through his lax limbs afterwards is nearly enough to drown out his guilt at whacking it to an unwitting man, helplessly confined to their home.

After that, they settle into a routine similar to the one established before spring. Eddie at school and Hellfire, Wayne at the plant, Steve keeping the house clean and the boys fed. The predictability of it all is comforting to Eddie, and Steve seems content with switching between hanging out and running the Munson household.

That first stirring of warmth at the start of spring turns out to be a false start and dirty grey clouds come rolling back, casting the trailer in gloomy, shifting shadows. Eddie decides the following weekend that the atmosphere will only help in recreating the feeling of curling up under blankets and in warm jumpers over Christmas. Perfect for this morning’s surprise.

Wayne sits in an upright burrito on the couch, blinking tiredly over a half-empty cup of coffee that Eddie knows is not yet enough to wake him. His mug is red with love thy neighbour boldly scrawled across it. Eddie is barefoot in the kitchen, wearing dark sweats and his thick-knitted, grey jumper. He hears Steve shuffle up behind him.

“Are those green pancakes?” Steve gawks down at the masterpieces that Eddie is currently assembling. He can only make sandwiches his ass; suck it, Wayne. Steve looks up at Eddie, a bitchy expression crossing his face, “Are we having green eggs and ham too?”

Eddie pokes at him with his elbows, edging him out of the kitchen. “Very funny, is that your highest reading level?”

“Oh, you fucker,” he hears Steve mutter and Eddie grins in delight, twirling his spatula in happiness before it falls to the floor from his clumsy hands. “Three-second rule,” he hisses at Steve’s laughter.

Rather than giving into his baser nature, Eddie generously offers Steve a fine morning beverage. “Give me a second, I’ll make you a cup,” he says, already grabbing a mug and moving towards the carafe.

“Let me. You concentrate on whatever the hell is going on over there,” Steve slides in behind Eddie, plucking the cup from his hands to rest it on the counter.

Before he can even think to move, Steve curls his fingers around Eddie’s hips. And his sweats are riding low because he can’t be fucked to pull them up and, oh Christ on a stick, he should have because Steve’s broad palms are bare against Eddie’s skin as he nestles them above his pants but under the jumper, and Steve’s hands are gripping him like he means it, the heat of it scorching. Eddie thinks that he could add a little more force, squeeze that tiny bit tighter and Eddie’s sensitive skin would bruise like a ripe peach, a sweet pain for him to press against later.

“Excuse me, chef,” Steve says, the rumble of his voice deep in Eddie’s ear, making him shiver down to his toes. Almost bodily picking him up, Steve firmly redirects Eddie out of his way and back to in front of the stovetop.

He stares blankly down at the hot pan, imagining Steve using that jock strength to lift him onto the counter, Eddie’s legs curling around him, ankles crossed over the bubble butt that he watches far too often to be seemly.

“You might want to flip that one,” Steve says next to Eddie, voice as smooth and dark as velvet. He startles and, yes, the pancake is looking crispy around the edges, so he hurriedly employs the only trustworthy thing in the kitchen right now — his spatula.

Steve moves out of the kitchen to perch at the counter, smirking over the rim of his mug. Eddie doesn’t really register it as he concentrates on making the next pile of pancakes, keeping his lower body close and shielded by the stove because sweats leave nothing to the imagination.

Thank Christ it’s a small kitchen and he’s able to set up two plates full of pancakes while practically glued to the spot. Eddie directs Steve away with their breakfast and he ambles onto the armchair to join Wayne in watching The Jetsons. Eddie flits into the bedroom, shoves the waiting rectangle into his pocket, and refills Wayne’s mug before joining them with his own stack.

He passes Mrs Butterworth over to Wayne and shoves a large forkful into his mouth, sweetness explodes over his tongue. Steve eyes him over his plate, “The green is really… something. Is this how you always make pancakes?”

Wayne snorts around his own mouthful, “Just once a year. It’s Eddie’s Christmas special, don’t ask where it came from. It’s a mystery.” On the television screen, Rosie the robot maid frantically chases after Astro the talking dog.

“No mystery,” Eddie declares. “It comes from the power of imagination to fuel the wonderment of the festive season.” Grinning, he mimes snow falling from the air with one wiggling hand.

“But it’s long past Christmas,” Steve says, confusion charmingly crinkling his face. Though Eddie is pleased to note, he continues to eat his pancakes.

“True,” Eddie concedes, inclining his head grandly before nodding to the television. “And while we have Astro rather than Rudolph, we continue to celebrate Christmas 1984 with a long overdue present.” He wriggles his gift out of his pocket and flicks it to Steve across the room. Steve deftly snatches it out of the air with an athletic ease that Eddie will deny to his dying day is very, very attractive.

A smile spreads across Steve’s face and he beams at him, “You got me a Christmas present.” Eddie feels like he could bask in the warmth of Steve’s expression for days, just curl up and purr like a cat under a sunbeam. “Open it up, Steve-o.”

“Yes, please, open it. Eddie’s going to wet his britches if you don’t get on with it.”

Eddie stops wiggling in his seat to glare at his unrepentant uncle, whose blue eyes dance with amusement while he deliberately sips his coffee in a nonchalant manner.

Steve carefully unfolds the red wrapping paper to reveal Van Halen’s album 1984. He stares down at the cassette long enough that Eddie begins to get worried, and he rambles to fill the silence. “I know that you like Let’s Dance and Ashes to Ashes, and I’ve seen you dancing to the Eurythmics. But Van Halen with a guitar is out of this world and I thought that the synth he’s introduced would be your style?”

Steve fingers the hard plastic carefully while Eddie babbles, panic filling him at the thought that he’s badly miscalculated somehow. “Uh, that’s what I meant about the Eurythmics, that electronic feel? Is it… not good?”

Steve blinks out of his reverie at Eddie’s disappointed tone, shaking his head as he looks up. “No, I like them; Panama is a lot of fun. I was just thinking that the title is appropriate, like a reminder? A time capsule or something? Sorry, I’m not explaining this right.”

Wayne shifts off the couch, his mug clacking against his plate as he stands. “I’m going to go clean up.” Eddie barely notices his departure as he walks out of the living room. “No, I think that makes sense.”

He looks over his shoulder to ensure that Wayne is out of earshot. “It’s a pretty big thing — you coming here. And I think that’s worthy of celebration.”

“Yeah?” Steve glances down at the gift in his hand shyly, but a smile works its way to the edges of his mouth. He rubs thoughtfully at the cover design, a rebellious blonde cherub smoking from a white pack of cigarettes. “And, uh, what did you think of the cake?”

“I loved it,” Eddie says, the simple words insufficient to convey how the gesture had made him feel less alone when he was missing Steve so badly already. “I don’t think I’ve had a fruit cake since Mama left. It was wonderful.”

Steve’s face brightens with pleasure, “Yeah? I was worried it was undercooked.”

It had been at its centre while being weirdly overcooked on one side, but it had tasted like home with that warm balance of brandy under the sweet notes. “It was perfect,” Eddies says honestly.

Steve’s smile is sweeter than his Christmas gift, and so warm that Eddie is filled with that fluttering that strikes all too often in his presence. They decide to play the album immediately and when Wayne comes out of his shower, dressed, he’s faced with two young men bouncing around like loons to Jump.

Wayne shakes his head at them affectionately, “I’ll be out for a while. Eddie, Catherine left another textbook for you over on the coffee table. Steve, I’ll see you later for the Ohio game.” Steve waves him off with a friendly goodbye and moves to clear the torn wrapping paper, Panama starts to play in the background.

After Eddie’s initial concern that Steve and Wayne may not get along, it quickly became clear that his concerns were unwarranted. Steve felt useful by contributing around the house, Wayne appreciated the extra help, and the two bonded over their love for sports. Eddie was reliably informed that today’s game is of the basketball variety.

As his uncle slides on his jacket and steps out of the trailer, the door banging behind him, Eddie wonders whether he’s off to see Catherine again. He blows wayward curls out of his face with a small grin. Something had broken through after Catherine helped with Steve’s stitches and Wayne was spending less time at home and more time smiling. Eddie figures Wayne will say something to him when he needs to.

It’s Catherine’s textbooks that lead him to the idea, even if he doesn’t realise it at first. Concepts that he never thought would even occur to people in authority, like checking in with the patient and advocating for what they want. Putting the patient at the centre of healing because it was their fucking body, not just something to use as a demonstration of a doctor’s diagnosis skills or, as Eddie begins to contemplate, a body to practise their suturing on.

He sort of wants to give it a go, learning how to stitch a wound. And, considering how often Steve gets hurt, it might legitimately be a skill he needs in the future. Not that he says as much to Steve; he’d only get a scoff and rolled eyes in response.

It all appeals to him, the idea of being that first port of call for someone hurt, vulnerable and needing help. He can be the professional to make the jock stay and get a CT scan, he can be the one that spots the kid with the long sleeves in summer; he can create his own mutant powers for healing and use them for good.

Eddie remembers Steve derisively describing his cousin squandering his political muscle for his own benefit and thinks that he would be the opposite. The opposing force that creates pockets of good in a world that can be pretty fucking grim to some people. He’s describing all of this to Steve when he understands that the look he is receiving in return is indulgent, perhaps even affectionate.

“What?” Eddie asks warily, thinking that maybe he had rolled from excited into rambling and that Steve was about to sass him about it.

“Nothing,” Steve says, the corner of his eyes crinkling into a tender expression, “I’m just unsurprised that the guy who fights the man atop cafeteria tables—”

“I’ve done that once!”

“—and looks out for his nerdy sheepies, is going to go out into the world to battle for the little guy one scrape at a time.”

Eddie blushes, looking down at the textbook. He traces an outline of a human body with arrows pointing to it, “There’s no guarantee of that yet.”

“No,” Steve says confidently, “you will. You’re going to become a nurse and whether it’s with kids or working with a scalpel—”

“I don’t think they allow nurses to do actual surgery.”

“—you’re going to be great at it.”

Eddie purses his lips, “Is this your knowledge from the future by any chance?”

Steve shakes his head gently, “No, I just have faith.”

It buoys Eddie, that Steve believes in him. That Catherine sees potential in him. It makes his world seem bigger and has him wanting to reach out and grasp a future he had never considered but that looks increasingly attractive.

These days, band practice ends with Gareth and Jeff squabbling about the group’s name and new guy Dougie’s no help, so Eddie starts to beg off and spends more time on his homework. If he gets his diploma, then maybe he’ll be able to get into nursing school. Eddie will need to look up the requirements, but even if his grades suck surely there are some transitionary classes that he could do to get in. And so, for the first time in his second senior year, Eddie starts to apply himself.

Steve tells him to get more fruit at Melvald’s, it’ll help boost his brain he says about it. Showing very little faith in Eddie’s memory as it is, he writes down a list of the exact number of every fruit and vegetable he wants Eddie to buy. Eddie clicks his tongue at Steve’s distrust; he can be counted on to get groceries, Jesus H.

It’s as he approaches the check-out counter that he sees it. The 1985 calendar for America’s roadside attractions. This month’s feature is the Big Chicken in Georgia. Eddie grins, it’s perfect. He hides it at the bottom of the paper bags that Steve helps him to unpack at home. 

Later, in their kitchen and smiling in satisfaction, Steve pulls out two fat oranges in his hands, “Good, you got them.”

Eddie presses a hand over his left eye and lunges, knees bent with his right arm thrusting forward. “Have a hankering for good old Vitamin C, hey? You know what they say, an orange a day keeps the scurvy pirate away.” He parries with his imaginary sword.

“No,” Steve rejoins calmly, amusement dancing in his eyes as he whacks away Eddie’s still-wiggling arm. “Catherine said that if you really want to get into it, you can practice dissecting and stitching back up oranges.” He pales slightly at the memory. “It honestly sounds disgusting, but she left a few items for you to practice with. She also wanted me to tell you that the needle you have in your kit is for one-time use only, so don’t use it until you need it.”

Eddie lights up, holstering his sword, “That is so cool. I’ll have to get Wayne to make her cake again.”

“Or you could make it yourself,” Steve suggests wryly.

“Who has time for that? I have sutures to practice.”

Steve laughs and places Eddie’s future patients in what he’s designated as the fruit bowl. “Now,” Eddie rubs his hands together in anticipation, “one good turn deserves another, and I got you something in kind.”

Steve raises an eyebrow as he slides the tins of tomatoes into the cupboard, “You didn’t even know I was organising this. You just said I needed it for my scurvy.”

“No,” Eddie slides forward, pressing his finger against Steve’s plump lips. The softness of them causes a shiver to run briefly at the base of his spine. “I said that I was the scurvy pirate, keep up.”

He steps back quickly before he’s tempted to do something stupid, like slip his fingers into Steve’s mouth or something.

“My bad,” Steve says sarcastically, licking his lips as he opens the fridge door and shelves the egg carton.

Eddie pulls out his gift to excitedly show Steve the calendar; he frowns adorably in confusion until Eddie explains. “I’m going to start marking down every day.”

Steve’s eyes light up, “So if I blip out and come back—”

“You’ll know immediately when you are, not just where.”

“Eddie,” Steve says fondly, “That’s really thoughtful, man. Thank you.” He searches inside the paper bag before folding it. “You know,” he adds casually, “You could use it to mark your due dates too. You have trouble keeping them front and centre of your mind sometimes, right?”

Eddie hadn’t realised Steve watches him closely enough to understand one of his chief frustrations when trying to do the right thing and hand in his homework. He mulls on it; it’s not a bad idea and maybe it’ll help bump up his grades.

“You can pin it next to your sweetheart,” Steve teases, referring to Eddie’s Warlock guitar hanging by his mirror, “You’ll never miss a due date again with all the kisses you send its way.”

“Jealous, Stevie?” Eddie playfully bats his eyelashes.

Steve squints at him with a look that Eddie can’t decipher, “Maybe.”

Eddie snorts, falling back, “You must really miss date nights.”

Steve sighs, binning the bag into the trash can. “Something like that.” He walks past Eddie into the lounge room, propping his feet onto the coffee table in a way he’d never do if Wayne was home. “Want to watch something?”

Eddie nods and joins him, throwing the television remote into Steve’s open palms. He knows he’d missed something just then, the flash across Steve’s face telling him that something else was going on in that noodle, but he’s not sure exactly what it could be.

It worries him: the concerns that Steve keeps to himself. Eddie sees him get jittery sometimes, pacing about the trailer when he forgets that Eddie is in the other room. He’s only heard bits and pieces, small mutterings rising into a scolding tone, telling himself that he needs to stay put if he doesn’t want to fuck up the timeline. That he needs to get over himself so that everyone else makes it out alive.

Eddie had bitten his lip hard when he overheard that last part. Understanding that what Steve was saying wasn’t for Eddie, but also knowing how hard it must be to carry the weight of the future on your shoulders, making yourself a prisoner, no matter how friendly the wardens.

But, oh boy, does the warden get to have some fun in return.

He’s late home one evening, having stopped for a couple of personal deliveries with the profitable asshole tax applied. Climbing the trailer steps, the ethereal hoot of an owl sounds in the woods and night has dreamily fallen, but the light shining through the closed windows is a welcoming gold, and he can smell something warm and delicious. It all puts Eddie in a wonderful mood, feeling like the breadwinner coming home after a long day.

He plays into it as he walks through the door, calling out an expansive, “Honey, I’m home.” He mimes taking off an old-fashioned fedora like a husband returning in Leave it to Beaver. The delicious scent of dinner spreads languorously in the air, an unfolding of veiled fingers beckoning Eddie closer.

Steve is in the kitchen when Eddie looks over to gauge his reception to the bit, white and red striped tea towel draped over his left shoulder and right hand propped at his fist, a wooden spoon in its grasp. He rolls his eyes, “Welcome home, snookums.” Dusty Springfield plays softly in the background, crooning about a spooky little boy like you.

Eddie grins, happy to play and pretends to draw off a heavy coat. He hangs it carefully next to the invisible hat. “Well darling,” he intones deeply, trying for a heavy rumble, “what do we have on the menu tonight?”

And see, Eddie thought he had this all planned out. A little drama exercise and some light-hearted fun. Then Steve leans over the counter, hips deliberately popped, and ass subtly wiggling, and Eddie thinks that oh fuck he’s not thought through anything at all.

“Well, pooky,” Steve breathes and oh double fuck that doesn’t help either, “I thought that glazed pheasant would pair nicely with your usual martini.” The music continues with a steady, hypnotic lilt.

Eddie deliberately frowns, glancing around as an addition to the joke but also so that he can look away from the temptation of Steve’s swaying ass. “And where is my borderline alcoholic crutch this evening?”

Steve straightens, smoothing down his non-existent poofy skirt and sauntering over to Eddie. The motion so smooth and mesmerising that he briefly thinks that he could pull off heels if he ever has a mind to it. Heat rises under Eddie’s collar as Steve tugs at it, miming his tie being pulled off in a slippery, slithering motion. The rhythm pulses, and Dusty smokily declares that she was confused but now she’s a-dyin’ to be sayin’ all the things in her heart.

“I thought I was your only addiction, honey pie.” Despite being the same height, Steve is looking up at Eddie through his lashes and Eddie really needs to not be thinking about how else they could play house right now.

The word addiction seeps some cold reality into his brain, the truth of it a little too close to how he feels these days and he lets loose a deliberatively false laugh, patting an oversized gut that’s not there.

“Well honey, sometimes a man just needs a drink.”

Steve retreats a little out of his space with a coy smile and Eddie inhales like he can finally inflate his lungs again. Yet all that extra breathing space stutters to a halt as Steve pulls up Eddie’s wrists between their bodies and pretends to wrap the tie around them, and Eddie just… lets him.

The melody falls to a dramatic stop followed by two precise finger snaps.

Steve smirks and pretends to tug him towards the kitchen stools. The music swells again, a sweet eerie tune as Eddie obediently follows like he’s properly leashed. His weakened knees give out under him when Steve pushes Eddie down onto the seat with a commanding hand on his shoulder. His knowing smile is dark and electrifying as he tells Eddie, “Good boy.”

A bolt of lust strikes through Eddie so hard he’s afraid that he has been rent asunder like a tree struck by lightning. It has him ready to fall down to Steve’s knees and offer any sort of payment if he would like to do this with a real tie sometime. Eddie doesn’t own one, but he’ll go out and buy it if Steve wants to play games like this.

It’s on the tip of his tongue to say something really fucking stupid and blow up this wonderful, friendly peace he has at home when Wayne thankfully walks through the door with a clatter.

He calls out his greetings and Eddie tears his eyes away to mutter a hello, his cheeks are burning hot, and he doesn’t think he can look at Steve right now. Not with the naked desire that must be shining in his eyes.

One look at him and Steve will understand that none of this is pretend for Eddie. Not the cute little nicknames. Not the feeling of coming home to family. That Steve has become his family in near all ways. Eddie swallows around the sinking feeling that he’s not sure how to call a place home anymore without Steve in it.

Dusty fades away, humming about her spooky little boy.

 

 

Notes:

writing the scurvy pirate bit was one of my favs ⚔️ that and the only reliable thing in the kitchen is Eddie's spatula. that he already dropped. 🤦

and, I was absolutely obsessed with Spooky around the time of writing. seriously, there's a section where all music halts and she snaps her fingers twice - it gets me every time~

Chapter 12: The Worm Ouroboros

Summary:

Last chapter, Steve insisted on regular cuddles in bed, they celebrated Christmas in spring since Steve missed it in his last blip, and Eddie struggled with how important Steve has become to him.

This chapter, a little harmless wrestling turns into something more.

Spring refuses to show any signs of colour, the grey skies invading well into the warming months and bringing with it a sticky warmth that leaves everyone uncomfortable.

Wayne grumbles that a little extra rain wouldn’t hurt even as he gripes that he doesn’t like the idea of the new mall opening: it’s going to take local business away from the town centre. He’s extra suspicious as to the nighttime work that’s happening in addition to the usual daytime scaffolding.

Steve continues to look restless at times, taking to staring out the trailer like a dog at the pet store window. It makes Eddie feel inexplicably guilty like he’s the one chaining Steve to the house. That his happiness at having Steve at his fingertips, available to him at all times, has morphed into some otherworldly power and like Hades to Steve’s Persephone he has abducted him to stay as his wife, doomed to be imprisoned in the underworld until spring comes. Eddie supposes in this analogy that spring is 1986, which means that Steve’s rebirth is still a long year away.

He's taken to reading from Eddie’s library, refusing to yet touch Lord of the Rings for the pure stubborn sake of all the times he’d told Dustin he’d never read it. But Eddie thinks that as Steve continues to look caged up and restless, that it’s only a matter of time. Otherwise, he dives into Eddie’s collection with the enthusiasm of a man looking for a distraction. A feeling that Eddie knows well.

He finishes one old novel during spring break, lounging back on the couch with a foot flat on the floor by Eddie’s hips. Hellfire has a day-long campaign planned and Eddie is cross-legged, his back to Steve while he looks down at his notes on the coffee table. Making sure everything is in narrative order and occasionally writing little additions as inspiration strikes.

Steve closes his book with a thoughtful sound, on its cover a long silver serpent eats its own tail against a backdrop of black and red. Eddie looks over, interested in how quickly Steve has flown through reading it. “You like it?”

Steve hums absently, “It’s okay, but I don’t understand how they travel from Earth to Mercury if this is a fantasy.”

“It’s the power of imagination, buttercup,” Eddie grins.

Steve flips through the pages to the intricate map of the mountains in Demonland. “I like Lord Gro.”

Eddie turns more fully to Steve, intrigued.

Steve’s gaze turns inward and thoughtful, feeling out his words before he says them. “He’s complicated, right? He has a lot going for him — trusted by the king, a cool adventurer, courageous and skilled. But then he falls in love and betrays his allies. Just. The struggle as he decides what’s the right thing to do is interesting.”

He turns the book over to contemplate the cover with pursed lips, “The ending is a bummer though. I get wanting something so bad you wish for a redo but being bitter because no one sees you as heroes anymore, so you ask the gods to let you go back to the start of the war. Morons,” he concludes, scathingly succinct.

Eddie nods, excited because he had similar thoughts when reading it as well. “Yeah, and that’s the point of the title too, you know? The Worm Ouroboros — the snake that eats its tail. It represents an eternal cycle and so they end up where they started.”

Steve clicks his fingers at him, “That’s what you were talking about the time you didn’t want to make dinner. What’d you say?” Steve looks up while he thinks. “Life is a never-ending story of eating, shitting, and eating again. Life and birth or something?”

Eddie blushes, charmed that Steve had been listening closely enough to remember an off-the-cuff remark. “Life, death, and rebirth again, yeah.”

“You always have a choice, though,” Steve says musingly, still contemplating the stain in the shape of Australia on the ceiling. Eddie waits for him to explain but Steve remains silent. He calls his name and Steve blinks, looking down at Eddie on the floor.

“I mean, you could have refused to eat. Starve yourself and die and the cycle is broken. It’s shitty, but it’s still a choice.”

“Pumpkin,” Eddie says mock reprovingly, “that’s pretty fucking grim.”

“True though, dearest,” Steve challenges with a raised eyebrow, tone haughty.

“Okay,” Eddie admits, “true, yes. But I like living for the most part and you make a great carbonara, so why deny myself.”

Steve snorts, “You are obsessed with a little garlic and onion.”

Eddie can feel himself readying to pounce like a cat that’s sighted its prey. “But Stevie, it’s what you do with it!” He shrieks, pushing up on the balls of his feet to lunge over and tackle Steve.

The book goes flying to the floor with a thud and Steve lets out a big oof when Eddie knocks the breath out of him as he lands over his middle, he gleefully glares down at Steve, “Got you now!”

Steve breathlessly giggles as Eddie sticks his fingers into his sides and proceeds with the Munson Tickle Attack. Squirming under him, he bucks and Eddie nearly goes flying to the floor right after the book, but Steve hooks one leg behind him and flips him over to land heavily on his back. Eddie grunts and immediately rolls, trying to squirm out from under Steve to take back the upper hand. He nearly succeeds, but Steve suddenly sits heavily on Eddie’s lap, pinning his wrists above his head and stretching his torso to force Eddie down with his weight.

“Got you,” Steve breathlessly says, chest heaving from his exertion. Their noses nearly brushing, Steve’s eyes are close and intently trained on Eddie, the longer strands of his hair fall around them, creating a curtain, narrowing the world down to just the two of them.

Eddie licks his lips; they feel full and wanting under his tongue. “What’re you going to do about it,” he challenges.

He can feel himself growing hard underneath the soft meat of Steve’s ass and he grinds up just a fraction. Enough to tell himself that it’s barely noticeable. Steve’s eyes darken and his fingers tighten around Eddie’s wrists. He moans, eyes fluttering close. He wants Steve to push down harder, to squeeze harder. Anything to help relieve this ache growing in him, the compounding pressure building, threatening to crack across his body, distort and shake his frame apart.

Steve must hear Wayne approaching the front door before Eddie because his eyes widen in alarm and he quickly sits up, hand moving in front of his body before he flies to the end of the couch, a magazine suddenly open and in his lap. Eddie looks at him from the end of the couch, still splayed out and uncomprehending until he hears the key in the lock.

Steve looks over at his still stationary body and hisses his name.

ShitFuckDamn.

Eddie flees to the bathroom.

His back hitting the door behind him, Eddie tries to figure out what the fuck all that was. His thoughts however are reluctant to turn away from the memory of Steve’s eyes burning into his, to forget the enthralling weight of Steve forcing him down, making him submit under his hands and body.

Eddie bites against a moan and hurriedly unzips his jeans, forcing them down and under his balls. Spitting into his palm, he urgently strokes against his hard shaft and, if he were in his right mind, he might feel a sense of shame at how quickly it takes to get himself off. With one last dazzling twist of his wrist, he is shuddering, unravelling at the memory and scent of Steve that still lingers in his watering mouth.

He has just enough presence of mind to aim for the floor and thankfully manages not to splooge all over himself. Not when he has to walk back out there. Eddie curses again. He can’t go back out there. He can’t. He can’t look Steve in the eye after he nearly humped up onto him and then proceeded to whack it just a room away.

And what was Steve thinking? Was that just some wrestling that got out of control? Had Steve even felt half of what Eddie had out there? Christ, what if it had all been Eddie? He turns cold at the thought. Here he is already feeling like he’s Hades to Steve’s Persephone and he’s rubbing up on a guy who can’t even leave the house.

Though, flicking back to that look in Steve’s eyes he’s not sure: there had been an intensity about Steve that felt like it burned Eddie clean through to his soul. He’s a creative guy, but even he would struggle to imagine Steve looking at him so piercingly.

Eddie goes to run his hand down his face in frustration and only by sheer luck realises that he’s about to wipe his jizz over his nose. He recoils from his hand and smacks the back of his head against the door, grunting in pain.

“You okay in there?” Wayne calls out.

Eddie wants to die of mortification, just allow the floor to swallow him and cover back up again, preferably clean and with no evidence. “Fine,” he grits his teeth to call out, “hit my elbow on the wall.”

“All right.”

The shuffling sound tells him that Wayne has walked away and Eddie decides that this is game time. He needs to strategize before he goes out there. Wayne will be in the living room as well as Steve. Eddie looks down at his watch cursing; it’s not exactly the end of the night but Wayne will be retiring soon and that means that Eddie’s looking down the barrel of walking into his room—that he shares with Steve—and getting into bed—that he shares with Steve and… what? Be the little spoon as usual?

Eddie swallows a hysterical giggle.

This is ridiculous, but he knows that he can’t face Steve right now. He can’t even think of meeting his eyes and seeing either pity or disgust. Jeff won’t mind if he crashes tonight; they can go over campaign ideas and Eddie can keep his mind off the feel of Steve’s ass on top of his dick.

He cleans up, staring himself down in the mirror as he washes his hands. “You’re not going to fuck this up, asshole. You’re going to go out there, not freak your friend out any further and give you both some space. You’ll see him tomorrow and apologise or never speak of it again, and everything will go back to normal.”

His reflection doesn’t look very convinced, so he flips it the bird before strolling out of the bathroom. He is cool, he is casual, he is not going to look like he just talked himself down from a freak-out.

Steve must have disappeared into the bedroom since Wayne sits alone on the couch, convincing Eddie even further that the best thing to do right now is to give them both some space.

He continues his very casual and cool stroll over to the coffee table where he sweeps up his notes; despite himself he blushes while bending further to grab the papers that had fallen to the floor during their wrestling.

Wayne is reading his newspaper and bears him no mind, but Eddie keeps his gaze firmly on his things as he gathers them into his arms. “I’m off, just going out to see one of the guys.”

Wayne finally looks up over the rim of his paper, an eyebrow raised. “It’s late.” Which is a weird observation because Wayne’s never given Eddie too much strife about bedtimes and the like.

“I’ll probably stay overnight,” Eddie says weakly. “You know, paint our nails, do our hair, decide on the best monster to skin for armour. Just the usual girl stuff.”

“Okay,” Wayne says simply with an undertone of judgment that Eddie has no hope of understanding. It’s just one extra element of stress he doesn’t need in that moment so he nods jerkily and backpaddles to the door. “I, uh, forgot to tell Steve, but I’m running really late. If you see him again, can you tell him?”

“Eddie…” Wayne starts in a warning tone, lowering his paper.

He turns and books it, the screen door slapping sharply shut as Eddie leaves the trailer behind him.

 

---

 

Jeff is sitting on the sofa in the basement of his house, hunched over his bass guitar. Judas Priests’ Victim of Changes drops from his fingertips as he practices the opening bassline. Steve could certainly be his whisky woman, Eddie reflects, woven through with bronze and gold, but it’s Eddie who’s trying to find his way again.

Looking up at Eddie’s heavy sigh, Jeff eyes him with an evaluating look, “Are you finally going to tell me why you’ve practically moved in? Not that you’re not welcome, but honestly, Eddie, you don’t even look like you want to be here.”

School starts again tomorrow and Eddie has camped out at Jeff’s for four long days. He hadn’t returned home the day after his inglorious flight, the Hellfire campaign was the day after, so it made sense, Eddie had reasoned, to stay over another evening, and then the game had been so successful that they’d run overtime, and Eddie had begged off from driving back late.

He had thankfully run into Catherine on that first day. She had been walking past the booth he sat at with Jeff and Randy in the diner and quickly called out to her. Explaining that he would be staying with a friend for a couple of nights he asked her to pass on the message to Wayne so he wouldn’t worry. He couldn’t bear the thought of calling and Steve answering the phone.

Catherine had regarded him reproachfully from her shorter height, making him feel about two feet tall, but hadn’t mentioned Steve in public as she had vowed. Likewise promising to pass on his message.

Now, he restlessly turns over the chunky silver ring on his thumb, trying to work up the courage to drive home. “I did something I’m not proud of and I’m sort of scared to go back,” Eddie admits.

Jeff’s practised strumming becomes more like noodling around as he contemplates Eddie’s words. “Is it something that needs people to calm down about? Like is there some guy waiting at the park ready to deck you?” He pauses before carefully saying, “It’s not Wayne, is it? Because we’ll work something out then.”

Eddie faintly smiles, thankful that Jeff has his back. He never would have anticipated as a ragged child that he’d have friends in his corner, willing to go to bat against an ominous father figure.

“No, never. And no, there’s no violence at the end of this tragic tale.” And there wouldn’t be. He knows this about Steve. His fear doesn’t stem from Steve turning on him because Eddie’s gay.

He may not be able to say the words yet — not even to Wayne, even though his uncle has always known. Hard not to after the way his father had left Eddie discarded like a rotten carcass on his front step. But when Eddie can finally say the words, he at least knows that he’ll still have a friend in Steve. But the complication of introducing sexuality beyond theory into their relationship is what leaves him grasping.

“I maybe messed up a friendship.”

Jeff regards him with a shrewd eye, “Did you make out with them too? Cause you know that doesn’t automatically mean ruining things. They may just not be that into you.”

Eddie scowls, tempted to pull off his heavy ring and throw it at his friend. Miffed that even if Eddie can’t say the words, Jeff can voice part of them. Isn’t he the older more mature one? Technically by only a year, Eddie admits, but it should count for something.

Though it’s probably not very mature to refuse to speak to Steve at all. “No,” he sighs heavily, “and it may be that he didn’t even notice, which is good I guess.” Even if it makes him feel just as glum. A part of him wants to force the issue, to tell Steve how he feels because if there’s the slightest chance that he reciprocates Eddie’s feelings then surely, it’s worth the gamble.

But the risk is not only about Eddie’s unrequited desire for Steve, he knows this. He’s watched Steve pace and mutter and generally look lost at moments when he thinks he’s unobserved. Steve may appear just peachy keen on the surface, a veritable Donna Reed of managing the household, but at the back of his mind he’s always thinking about the ways he might be changing the timeline, risking his friends’ lives and so many more if their future battles go pear-shaped.

What are Eddie’s stupid, sad, wet feelings compared to the weight of Atlas holding up the sky?

He's probably making it worse, Eddie realises; Jeff raises his brows at his sudden grimace. Even if Steve hadn’t noticed his inappropriate reaction, Eddie still up and disappeared on him for a near week. He’s not so nearsighted as to think that Steve wouldn’t miss him. At the bare minimum, to feel lonely without the extra stimulation of Eddie’s sparkling wit and commentary during Bewitched.

Deciding to face the music, he wraps his long arms around Jeff in a bear hug of thanks before leaving. Jeff pats him on the back and assures him that it’ll all turn out for the better once he confronts whatever it is head-on. He knuckles Jeff’s head in response, asking when this junior of Hawkins High had become so wise, and Jeff sticks his leg out to trip him as he leaves in revenge.

The noon sun is weakly shining behind heavy clouds when his van rumbles to a stop outside the trailer. The humid clash of the coming warmth and the leftover rains of winter causes his dark curls to stick unpleasantly to the back of Eddie’s neck. He walks through the front door like a prisoner approaching the gallows, an inevitable drudge.

The grey shadows cast the empty living area into gloomy shadows; Wayne must be with Catherine, so Eddie heads to the bedroom where Steve will be. “Steve…” he starts as he walks into his erstwhile sanctuary, but the room is empty too.

Eddie backs up, turning to fling open the bathroom. Steve’s not there either. He spins and skids to a stop in front of his sweetheart and the calendar that hangs beside it; the last mark crossed out is on the day Eddie left.

Steve’s gone again.

Eddie’s knees give out and he sinks onto the edge of the bed, a sharp pain stabbing in his gut at his absolute cowardice. He never changes, does he? Always ready to run at the slightest sign of conflict and now Steve has been gone for days and Eddie hadn’t even known. Didn’t bother calling just in case he’d hear Steve’s voice and break down in confession like he knew he would. What a complete and utter asshole he is.

Eddie’s fists clench and unclench as his anger turns inward, becoming a deep sadness that spreads like a heavy weight from his chest. He falls on his back, feet still flat on the ground, embracing the increasing dullness of his mind and body.

Each time Steve leaves the sorrow that yawns within Eddie becomes larger, widening until it has become a pervasive grief. He knows that it’s likely that Steve will come back, but it’s hard to convince his heart of it. The weak vessel increasingly fractured at the what if.

What if this is the last time? What if Steve disappears into the void? Hell, what if they have this all wrong and Steve will fall back even further in time, back before Confederate and Union soldiers, back before armies marching across continents, until he tumbles into a green paradise populated by giant monsters and fragile butterflies?

Time moves slowly as Eddie contemplates his wrongdoings and his what ifs, slipping through his fingers like smooth sand. He blankly watches the shifting shadows as they creep across the ceiling until the bulb above him erupts into a sudden and violent golden light.

“What are you doing in the dark?”

Eddie bolts upright, whipping to face Steve who stands in the frame of the doorway. Leaning against the wood for support, his arms folded across his chest.

“You came back,” Eddie rasps, his voice scratchy from the weight of his emotions compounded by the time he had sat quiet and motionless in the room, grieving the loss of the boy standing across from him. He remembers that the calendar hasn’t been updated and hastens to assure Steve, “It’s only been four days.”

Steve scoffs, his stare hardening. “Yes, I know. I’ve been here, even if you haven’t.” Eddie recoils like he’s been slapped.

Steve had been here, even if here doesn’t mean the trailer. He rakes his eyes down Steve’s body, noting the light Van Halen shirt, and the flannel jacket wrapped around his hips, both perfect for a humid spring day. His feet are clad in the boots from 1986 that Eddie had cleaned, now flecked with dried mud at their base.

The sight feels incongruous: he hasn’t seen Steve in shoes, barely in socks, since the beginning of his second visit. Dirty and tired, leaving his clothes on the bathroom floor. Steve follows his gaze and scoffs again, the sound hard and full of derision. Propelling himself off the frame with a push of his hips, Steve pivots and strides out of the bedroom.

Eddie rolls off the bed, stumbling to follow after him. A spark of fear ripples through Eddie when he sees that Steve is already at the front door, followed by a wash of relief when he realises that he’s only toeing off his shoes.

“You went outside?”

Steve’s jaw clenches, “I needed to get out of here.”

“What about the timeline?” Eddie hisses, bent forward at the weight of his urgency. What has all of this been for if Steve is just going to go wandering about, talking to people and changing the future anyway?

A tendon in Steve’s cheek flexes and he breathes out slowly, “You don’t get to tell me what to do, Eddie. Not when you disappear for a week without so much as a goodbye.”

“More like four days,” Eddie mutters, but unable to refute his point.

Steve makes a frustrated, whistling sound akin to a kettle about to explode. “Sure,” he nearly shouts, making an angry gesture before stomping away. “Four days without so much as a goodbye.”

“So, is this going to be a habit now, you going out?” He knows how petulantly he is acting, but Steve is basically getting ready to leave Eddie. He can feel it in his bones. He may not have wanted to be his warden, but that doesn’t mean that Eddie hadn’t come to depend on Steve relying on him and the shelter he provides. The sanctuary of this house is pretty much all Eddie can offer and Steve may be rapidly coming to the point where he doesn’t need or want it.

Steve fixes an incredulous gaze on him as he deliberately steps back into Eddie’s space. “I can’t believe you, Eddie. You know what? Yes, it is. It’s going to become a habit. So incredibly routine you won’t even have to see me here anymore.”

“What about other people seeing you?” Eddie sharply asks.

He watches Steve’s eyes narrow at the low blow as he leans closer, words crackling with quiet anger. “I’ve been sticking to the woods and off the paths, and I can hear anyone coming from a mile away. I needed to get out of here. I can’t keep pacing the same path between the bedroom and the armchair anymore.” He pronounces each word precisely, “I just needed to fucking stretch my legs.”

Steve has just hit the fear that’s been simmering at the back of Eddie’s mind, banging it like a loud gong reverberating through his head. “Well, I’m so sorry, Steve, that the Munson trailer isn’t big enough for the Harrington heir.”

His face hardening, Steve warns Eddie, “Don’t you fucking dare.”

“No,” Eddie steps back, gesturing towards the front door with a mocking sneer that spreads in an ugly manner across his face. The beast within, which has been so docile in these peaceful weeks with Steve, uncoils to strike. “Poor little rich boy, slumming it up with the trailer trash of Forrest Hills. How have you been living with it, really?” He gives a polite golf clap. “Well done you.”

Steve’s fists are clenched, his face drawn sharply, and body so deliberately still that he looks like a wire drawn taut, too far stretched and ready to snap. Eddie lands his killing blow, “Go ahead, fuck up the timeline because you can’t handle the teeny tiny corners of the Munson abode anymore.”

The tight control that Steve had held onto with a strict grip finally breaks, Eddie can almost hear the pieces falling into a shattering explosion. “You know what, fuck you, Eddie,” he seethes. “When have I ever been anything but grateful to you for putting me up? You’re the one that has an issue with me being here so don’t you push your fucking insecurities onto me. I’m not the one who’s ashamed, you absolute fucking prick.”

Steve turns on the spot. Reaching down he swiftly scoops up his boots and, slamming the front door, he exits the trailer still clad in his socks, leaving only a deafening silence ringing through Eddie’s ears. Words like ashamed and insecurities stabbing at him, leaving him bleeding sluggish wounds like sutures savagely ripped from the depths of his flesh.

Eddie’s accusations run through his mind like a bucket of ice water dumped over his head, sobering and shaming. Hadn’t he just been mourning the loss of Steve, thinking that he had fallen through time again?

Yet he’d immediately jumped down Steve’s throat for doing the unexpected. Cruelly throwing his fears smack back into his face as a means for Eddie to push him away before Steve could do it first. To build up a wall to protect himself from his dread of seeing the back of Steve’s head, walking away from him for good.

The wall is falling on Eddie now, drowning him in hard plaster and unforgiving bricks, because he’s made Steve do the one thing he had feared: leave Eddie.

The realisation sends a jolt of panic through him, and he scrambles forward, clawing on his Reeboks and shooting out of the trailer. Steve has just reached the border of the woods and is about to disappear into their deep shadows.

“Steve!” Eddie yells, but he continues striding forward until the forest closes around him, veiling his departure.

Fear lends him wings and Eddie flies forward. Desperately running, he spots Steve and drives ahead those few extra steps to grab onto him, stopping him before he disappears forever. The fingers he has clasped around Steve’s wrists are as resolute as the maple trees that stand strong in their patch of the woods. A subtle scent surrounds them, the breeze carrying a hint of new life from the vibrant pinks and greens that bud the once stark branches.

“Steve,” Eddie pants again but he is standing rigid and refuses to look back, captured arm stretched behind him.

“Steve,” he repeats to stiff shoulders, “I’m sorry, that was fucked up of me. I know that you would never do anything to mess with the future. I know that it weighs heavily on you and that you’re always—always—thinking about the best thing to do, even if it means sitting still when you want to be out there saving people.”

Rigidity crumbling, Steve’s shoulders fall and his head hangs, but he remains silent, face turned away. Eddie continues to try and reach him, “And I’m sorry for leaving for so long, that was really messed up of me and I shouldn’t have done it.”

“Why did you?” Steve’s voice is tired.

The one thing Eddie can’t do, absolutely could never forgive himself for in this moment, is to make Steve feel estranged from the one refuge he has while adrift in time. He needs stability and friendship, not Eddie pouring all his confusing mix of emotions and desires onto him.

He answers with a half-truth and hopes that it’s enough: “I thought I had messed up our friendship the other night and I freaked out a little. And then I got all up in my head and kept running in the typical Eddie Munson way. I shouldn’t have,” he repeats, remorse thick in his throat.

“Friendship?” Steve asks quietly. The branches above them rustle, but no bird takes flight.

“Yeah, man,” Eddie tries to reassure him. “You know coming home to you is the best part of my day. I don’t ever want you to think you’re unwelcome. I came back and the place was empty, and I was gutted.” He hesitates before saying it, the truth almost too raw. “It’s not home unless you’re there.”

Steve remains still and silent for one pregnant pause, before nodding to himself like he’s come to a decision. He slowly turns to face Eddie, the tight wariness starting to soften. “I missed you,” he says plainly. “You’ll just give me that look if I try to say anything about you not being obliged to stay with me at home, but just let me know next time. I worry.”

Tracing the smudges under Steve’s eyes, finally seeing the lines etched into his face that he hadn’t allowed himself to initially find, Eddie suspects that in the usual Steve Harrington way that he is underselling his concern. He carefully steps forward, taking Steve into his embrace who hugs him back immediately, resting his head on Eddie’s shoulders.

“I won’t do it again,” Eddie promises.

 

 

Notes:

Jeff is Eddie's best friend in this fic and would absolutely do whatever needs to be done if Eddie was in danger from Wayne or some random angry dude 🫂

meanwhile, I'll never stop giggling at Eddie almost wiping jizz on his face as he freaks out in a bathroom 😂

Chapter 13: What I Am

Summary:

Last chapter, the boys wrestling on the couch had Eddie running, leaving Steve behind at the trailer for almost a week until he returned and culminating in a fight over Steve leaving the trailer for walks in the woods. Eddie chased Steve when he left the trailer and apologised for his behaviour.

This chapter, tensions continue to build until Eddie is confused by an accusation he never thought to hear in his lifetime.

After making amends in the woods of Forrest Hills, Eddie had expected life to return to normal, more or less. Yet with their reconciliation came a tentative sort of peace that felt like a unsteady bridge ready to fall beneath his feet.

Steve hadn’t said anything outright. He was outwardly cheery even, but Eddie keeps flashing back to Slippery Steve in the kitchen, eyes not quite meeting and avoiding being too physically close to Eddie.

Steve is on one of his walks when he brings it up with Wayne, the two of them savouring a brief warm break in the weather on the porch couch. Eddie scratching at a mosquito bite and Wayne enjoying his Winstons. Every now and then Wayne glances towards Catherine’s place, but she’s not home yet.

“Do you think Steve is being weird lately?” Eddie asks, staring at the border between the trailer park and the woods. The trees seem closed off and unwelcoming today, a forest guarding its wild creatures.

Wayne expels a swirl of smoke, leaning back to place his Zippo lighter on the side table with a clack. “You mean with his walks? It’s good for him. I told Steve to bring back some pine or oak, and I’ll teach him to carve figures out of the thicker branches.” It’s been a long time since Eddie has seen Wayne whittling; it warms his heart that his uncle is looking out for Steve in his own way.

“Thought he was agoraphobic for a while there,” Wayne continues, contemplating the cherry at the tip of his cigarette pensively.

Eddie eyes him sceptically, “Where’d you even learn that word?”

“I’m not an idiot, Eds,” Wayne responds mildly before the corner of his mouth ticks up. “And Catherine asked me about him, mentioned it as a possibility. She likes you two; doesn’t want Steve to suffer if he’s going through something.”

“She’s a good woman,” Eddie says, still stuck on those trees.

“That she is. And he’s been a bit quiet lately, but nothing I’m worried about. You two made up, right?”

“Yeah,” Eddie sighs. “And we did, we truly did, but I wonder if I broke something.”

“Just give him time, Eds. He’ll talk about it when he’s ready.” Wayne ashes the cigarette, “Did you apologise?”

“Yeah.” As well as to Wayne later, who hadn’t been impressed with Eddie’s disappearing act. Nor with roping Catherine in as his impromptu messenger either.

“Well, that’s a good start.”

Steve returns later as the shadows of night are starting to stretch its fingers, the moon hanging low and illuminated in the background of the open trailer door. The frame thuds behind him as he pulls off his burrowed trucker cap, usually kept low as he moves in the open space between the trailer and the shelter of the woods. Above the brown bill of his hat a wavy slice of brown and white is circled by in bacon we trust.

Spearing his fingers through his bronze locks, he smiles at Eddie on the floor behind the coffee table, “Hey, you practising?”

Eddie lies down the orange and suturing needle beside the scalpel and cotton thread he’s using in place of the more expensive and medically appropriate silk. He’d been surprised to learn that he couldn’t just dig into an orange and have at it to practise, as he’d originally planned.

Instead, Catherine had taught him to slice and dissect the outer peel from the meat of the fruit, as if peeling skin away from muscle. Steve had turned an interesting shade of green watching Catherine talk him through it. Whenever Eddie practises, Steve will only look once he starts stitching the peel together. Apparently, after having seen his own skin being dug into by a needle, watching an orange get stitches is just fine.

“Yeah, look at this — I’m getting better,” Eddie proudly holds up the fruit, displaying a row of stitches far neater than his first attempts a month ago. He’s never been one much for sewing, but his new prowess is giving him ideas on how he might tailor his denim vest. So far, he’d kept to band pins and badges with rude sayings scrawled across them, but he could sacrifice some of his more worn shirts or check out Hawkins Records to see if they have any patches.

Steve inspects the orange. “Good work,” he says admiringly. “I’m just going to grab a shower and then I’ll see you in bed?”

A yawn suddenly overtakes Eddie, he glances at his watch; intent on improving the uniformity of the length and space of his stitches, he hadn’t realised how late it’d gotten. Steve laughs, “Yeah, I’ll see you there.”

Eddie flips him off, even as he nods and starts wiping down and packing up his gear. The one thing that has stayed reassuringly the same is how they continue to join in bed. Most nights end with Eddie facing the window and Steve curled behind him, a solid warmth giving and receiving comfort. With how unsettled Eddie has felt lately though, it’s a bittersweet sort of reassurance. Enough to cancel any morning wood he has; it’s just too sad and pathetic to jerk off while feeling despondent over an uneasiness that he can’t even confirm is real.

He can only be grateful for his lack of indecent desire when both he and Steve sleep in one morning only for Wayne to swing the bedroom door open with a bang. More sensitive to sound and movement, Steve had jolted upright from where he had been wrapped around Eddie’s back, blankets puddled around their feet from having kicked them off in the warm night. The swift retraction of Steve’s arm caused Eddie to awkwardly roll onto his face, squashing his nose and prompting him to somewhat stir.

“Eddie,” Wayne had barked, “get a move on.”

However, despite its sudden betrayal the pillow was soft and welcoming under him and Eddie decided to play possum. He’s pretty sure he heard Steve tell Wayne he’d get him up and, later, Eddie was just grateful he hadn’t flashed Steve and Wayne more than his boxer-clad ass.

The feeling infects him though, a rising sense that he’s the source of Steve’s discomfort. Eddie doesn’t disappear again, like he promised, but he does spend a little extra time with the guys. Noodling around on their guitars for a couple of hours in Jeff’s basement or study sessions with Randy who’s also doing senior year pre-calc.

The latter pays off too and he dances through the trailer door one afternoon. Spotting Steve walking out of the bedroom, he Cha-Cha Slides towards him. Without hesitation, Steve stops and reels him in with an invisible fishing rod. Eddie cackles, brandishing his maths test. “Guess who got a B minus, baby!”

Steve’s smile is broad as he takes the sheet of paper from him, on it his grade is big and fat and circled in red. But Eddie is going to ignore the usual implication of that colour on his grade because he got a goddamn B.

“Eddie, great! You got the function and graph questions right,” he notes proudly, already moving to pin it beneath a magnet on the fridge.

“Mm, hmm,” Eddie leans over to take an apple from the fruit bowl, biting into it with relish. “Thank God for Randy,” he confesses, “those domains had me on the ropes.”

Steve stays facing the big appliance, fiddling with the paper to make it square against the surface. “Oh yeah, he was a big help then?” he asks soft-spoken.

Eddie gazes lovingly at the red circle, he had worked hard to get that B — it’s satisfying to see the results. He responds absently while considering whether he needs to concentrate more on functions next time.

“Yeah, he says that he hates maths, but he’s really good at it. I tell him that it extends to his rolls too, like the guy has pulled a nat twenty more times than I like to think of. But he doesn’t believe me, says something about probabilities.”

Steve hums neutrally and leaves to get the clothes out of the dryer. The cloying humidity has rolled back through Hawkins and Steve refuses to even consider air drying, has become oddly stubborn about it like his reputation as a housekeeping god is on the line at the first hint of musty towel.

It’s not always just hanging out with one of the guys or another, sometimes they all come together even though Randy is more into weed and D&D and Gareth and Jeff are into music and D&D. One Wednesday night the three of them shoot the shit, Randy pulling out a joint that Jeff partakes in and Eddie declines, saying he needs to drive home.

The night rolls on later than Eddie realises, a debate unfolding amongst them as to whether level limits for classes other than humans are playing racism out in story form. Followed by a convoluted collaboration on juggling game balance against overpowered elves and dwarves. It staggers to a close however when Jeff thinks he hears his parents coming and paranoidly skunks out the basement in the cheap musk of his spray deodorant.

Eddie feels a twinge of guilt when he comes home to the dark trailer, he had promised to call when he’d be late, so he owes Steve an apology. Tip-toeing past the steady drone from Wayne, he creeps quietly into the bedroom. He can only see a sliver of the bed and floor from the slash of moonlight through their window.

“Steve?” He softly calls but there’s no answer from the lump in the bed. As he slips under the cover, Eddie can see that Steve is turned away onto his right side. He silently sighs, wishing that he’d realised the time so he could make it back for cuddles. When he wakes in the morning, Steve is already out of bed; his side of the mattress is cold to Eddie’s touch and, as he leaves the room, Wayne informs him that Steve has left for an early walk.

Eddie tells himself that he’ll apologise later, but in the excitement of Hellfire that night he momentarily forgets it as he sweeps into the trailer. The thrill of the game is still coursing through him, which is only electrified higher when he spots Steve at the kitchen sink washing dishes.

“Oh my God in Christ — Steve! Let me tell you about the campaign tonight, the tears, the jeers, the almighty conquerors.” Steve turns off the faucet, a tight smile on his face as Eddie pretends to wipe a tear from the corner of his eyes. “I’ve never been so proud of my sheepies.”

Steve turns and picks up the dishrag, applying himself to his task while Eddie regales him with the sheer audacity of those boys. The bravery and the teamwork – oh, the fucking group coming together had been magnificent.

“And then fucking Randy,” Eddie says breathlessly, nearly knocking over the fruit bowl as he broadly gestures with both arms. “Pulls out his carpet of flying and uses it to sneak behind the motherfucker! His mage is going to look so badass covered in a wyvern skin cloak, especially as it ripples behind him on his magic carpet ride.” He sings the last words joyfully; he’s so glad that he took on Randy’s suggestion and set them up to find it in last week’s loot.

Steve smacks the wet plate into the drying rack with a sharp clack. “Of course,” he mutters under his breath. At the sharp tone, Eddie falters, realising that he’s read the room all wrong. Looking at Steve’s clenched jaw and the tight set to his shoulders, it’s suddenly obvious that Steve’s not indulging Eddie as usual by allowing him to share the excitement of his day. Rather, Steve radiates an icy anger.

“Is something wrong?” Eddie tentatively asks.

Frost dripping from every word, Steve scoffs as he leans a hip against the counter, arms crossing over his chest, “Why would you think that?”

“You seem angry,” Eddie says cautiously into the brittle atmosphere. “Is this about last night? Because you’re right, I should have called.”

Steve narrows his eyes. “No, not at all. But maybe you can coordinate with your uncle so I’m not the middleman for your sexcapades.”

“What? Who?” Eddie asks, bewildered. “What?” he repeats, his mind-melting out of his ears at hearing the bizarre use of sexcapades coming out of Steve’s mouth.

Steve’s breath whistles through his teeth and he abruptly bends over, swinging the cupboard door open and shut again to slam a box of condoms on the counter between him and Eddie. A neon green silhouette of a Roman soldier is painted under the bold text type of extended pleasure. Eddie blushes, his cheeks radiating so hot that he’s sure his face is bathed in a cherry-red glow.

Steve’s lips pinch in displeasure as he watches Eddie, “Wayne included this in the grocery shopping today. Made sure I knew that it was for you. You know,” he continues sarcastically, “maybe we can organise my walks for nighttime and you can finally bring Randy around. Clearly, I’m getting in the way of something if even Wayne knows about it.”

Eddie’s mouth drops before he screeches, “What? No, I’m not doing anything that needs condoms with Randy. Where’d you even get that idea?”

Steve unclenches his teeth, brow furrowing further as he squints at Eddie in accusation. “Oh, I don’t know,” he says scathingly, “Maybe because I came back in March and you’re giggling in his lap. Perhaps because you’ve up and disappeared lately while also coming home reeking of another guy’s cologne. In the meantime, your uncle is in the background practically holding up a placard while he chants no glove no love.” Steve lists these items like it’s a shopping list he’s prepared: familiar, obvious, and oft-repeated.

Eddie blinks at the sheer wrongness of Steve’s words. “No! Steve, no.” He stands up to grab the box and throws it out of sight into a kitchen drawer. “I’m not doing anything with Randy.” Under his breath, Eddie mutters of all people. Louder he says, “I wouldn’t want to do anything with someone like Randy.”

His standards may be high these days since it pretty much equals Steve Harrington, but pale blonde boys soaked in weed and a repressed love for mathematics are hardly his type.

Steve draws in a shocked breath, eyes widening. “Oh shit, I misread this, didn’t I?”

“Uh, yeah. Completely.” Eddie exhales a relieved breath. He doesn’t know what Wayne was thinking but whatever it was he’s out of his mind. Eddie will pin him down later once this misunderstanding with Steve is resolved.

Yet Steve obviously feels differently because he paces out of the kitchen, running his hands through his hair and mumbling something that Eddie can’t hear. Finally, he flips upright to look at Eddie, a torn expression on his face. “You’re not gay, are you.”

“Say what?” Eddie exclaims, brain screeching to a halt like the abrupt silence after a sudden, unexpected scream.

Steve backs away, almost smacking against the wall. He shakes his head, frazzled in a way that Eddie has never seen on Steve before. “Christ. I just. I figured with the handkerchief and you’re always looking when I… I thought you at least…” Steve closes his eyes as if plagued by a sudden memory. “I’m so sorry, man. No wonder you freaked out when I was all up in your shit.”

Eddie’s mouth hangs open in astonishment; he is lost for words. Flabbergasted. Baffled. In a state of dumbstruck shock. He is in a small dingy in the middle of the ocean with no oar and no guiding light, rapidly approaching a rocky shore. Eddie has been called all sorts of nasty things over the years, but no one has ever accused him of being straight.

He’s certainly never been in a situation where he’s had to defend his queerness when it is usually assumed. Never been given the option to claim the words for himself. But this is his chance, he realises. Say it, his brain yells. Eddie can finally take charge of the narrative and be in control of his own story. Say it, it continues to scream like a blaring klaxon.

Instead, the words stick in his throat like a chicken bone, sharp edges wedged diagonally and cutting off his airway. He is twelve years old staring up at a towering man who refuses to touch him anymore because he’s a dirty queer. Pack your shit, you don’t have a home here any longer.

Steve’s eyes flicker over Eddie’s sallow complexion and the cold sweat gathering at his brow, his face falling further. “Shit. I’m going to go for a walk, you… you deserve your own space.” Eddie watches numbly as Steve pulls on his boots. He doesn’t bother to lace them, only looking at Eddie mournfully, eyes distraught. “I’m so sorry, Eddie. I’ll see you later.”

Steve turns, practically running out of the trailer along with any chance of Eddie saying Yes. Yes, I am gay. He doesn’t return until the morning, avoiding Eddie’s gaze as he moves towards the bathroom.

After that night the distance between Steve and him widens; what was an uncertain pothole becomes a gaping chasm. Steve takes more walks, spends more time at them too. Often leaving after he’s cleaned the dinner dishes and not returning until Eddie is ostensibly asleep in bed.

But he’s always awake.

Unable to sleep until he hears the creak of Steve slipping into their room. Careful to not disturb Eddie as he slides into bed, turning on his side to face the wall.

I am gay becomes a chant in Eddie’s head.

It eats away at him in class, staring blankly down at his notes.

It boils in his gut during gym, looking away from a younger version of the man perplexing him at home.

It unfailingly sticks in his throat every time he walks through the trailer door.

He’s just never had to say it, is the thing. Wayne knew from the beginning; the hateful words Pop had left him with, as he’d abandoned Eddie on his doorstep, making it clear what he’d found under Eddie’s mattress. Jeff knows, but it wasn’t from conversation. Other people have known if he’s to take the sneering insults thrown at him to heart and, one memorable autumn, when someone had scrawled it in bold black marker on his locker. Even Steve had known, not that he had fully explained how he’d come to that conclusion. But he did.

Eddie keeps imagining himself saying the words. Bewitched plays in the background at night and Eddie imagines turning and saying it in between Endora waving her hand and Darren falling to the floor. He takes Wayne’s plate from Steve’s hand and imagines telling him as their fingers graze, Steve’s flinch so small Eddie’s not sure if he imagined that too. He lies in bed, stuck in the distance Steve had once closed and now has put back in place, and imagines whispering his not-so-secret to him.

It's one of those nights and the words are boiling, practically scolding to the top of his throat. Ready to pour out like magma. They lay separately abed in the dark room; the wind outside has picked up and Eddie can hear the Anderson’s weathervane smacking in the approaching storm. It’s a rhythmic sound that would usually drive him nuts, but tonight it becomes the metronome to the increasing pressure of Say it. Say it. Say it.

Steve shifts slightly on his side, moving his right arm to cradle under his head. Eddie remembers cradling Steve’s face, offering him solace, silently promising to be his soft place to land. Even though he hadn’t heard a responding answer at the time, he knows that Steve would extend the same protection to him in a heartbeat. The man who puts his body between children and dangerous monsters would spring forward to take any hit aimed at Eddie’s way.

It’s not only who he is, at the core of what makes Steve Steve, but it’s there in every careful gesture he now makes around Eddie, trying to show him respect and give him space even though he’s misread the situation. It’s there as he tells Eddie that he may not have seen that far into the future, but he knows that Eddie’s will be bright because he believes that deeply in the goodness of him, in his desire and potential to save the world one scrape at a time.

“Steve,” he whispers, his pulse beating wildly in his neck.

“Mmm?” Steve responds, not sounding sleepy at all. As if had been lying there thinking too.

Eddie takes his God-given ability to run and for once uses it to jump headfirst towards the right direction, “I think I should tell you that I am gay.”

The air is pregnant with what Eddie can only imagine is confusion on Steve’s part. He rolls over onto his opposite side, facing Eddie who is curled up too. Face-to-face, Eddie can see the careful glint in Steve’s eyes and the serious set to his mouth. “You’re gay,” Steve clarifies.

Eddie takes a deep breath, licking his lips. He did it once, he can do it again. “Yes,” he swallows and says it like he means it, “I’m gay.” The pressure of Steve’s silence builds in his chest, rising like popping candy until released in a breathless giggle. Steve’s face immediately has a wary cast to it like he thinks that Eddie is messing with him.

“No, no, wait,” Eddie says around another giggle. He presses his hot face into the pillow before emerging, trying to straighten his expression. “I meant it, sorry. I just got nervous and sometimes I giggle when I’m nervous.”

“I know,” Steve says quietly, “it’s okay.”

“Okay?” Eddie swallows. “Like okay that I’m giggling or okay that I’m… gay.” There he goes, three times in a row. He thinks it’s getting easier; what had been a dry, rough brick is being smoothed away into a skipping stone. White and precious, made for tender touches and youthful love.

Steve reaches out slowly and gently places his hand over Eddie’s, which had rested on the mattress between him. The touch warm and reassuring as he tenderly squeezes his fingers. “Both.”

Eddie feels a stinging pinch between his nose and he swallows so hard that the sound is audible in the dark room. Steve’s face, full of compassion, starts to swim as tears fill Eddie’s eyes. “Okay,” he rasps. “That’s good. Would suck if it wasn’t.”

Steve watches him, a gentle empathy crossing his expression. “Eddie, can I hug you?”

Eddie nods jerkily, “That sounds really nice right now.”

Shifting quietly, Steve pulls Eddie’s now blubbering face into his chest and wraps his arms around him securely, rocking him from side to side. The strength of Steve’s embrace makes him feel safe like he’s protecting him from the nasty words of his classmates, like a bulwark against the disgust on his father’s face. Eddie allows himself to cry in the refuge of Steve’s arms as he mourns a boy who was never given the option to safely say this is me without it leading to pain.

He cries until the tears run dry and snot is thick in his nose, but his head is clear for what feels like a long time. A part of Eddie has slotted into place with his confession. Grabbing onto his courage and declaring himself has opened up a space inside, a place usually cramped and ugly, filled with a slumbering beast fuelled by envy and injustice. The creature is still there, but it has room to simply exist now, rather than being squeezed and agitated by despair and doubt.

Steve presses a hard kiss to the top of his head; his hand has kept a rhythmic caress against Eddie’s back since he first pulled him into his embrace. “It’s okay, you did good. You did so good.” The words fill him with a brightness that Eddie basks in, sure that it makes the tarnished copper turn golden for a brief, shining moment.

Eddie draws back, wiping his eyes before resting his chin on the hands he’s folded on Steve’s chest, “Thank you. You’re the first person I ever said that to.”

“Ah,” Steve’s face is soft and understanding, “you were really brave, I’m proud of you.”

Eddie looks shyly down, scratching at the demon printed on Steve’s Dio shirt, its crimson arms spread to show wrists broken free from silver manacles. “I would make a joke right now, but it was. Hard, that is. I don’t know why, it’s not like I thought you were going to recoil in disgust or call me names. I knew you’d have my back.”

“Yeah?” Steve asks, a pleased tug at his lips. “Glad I could meet the bare minimum then.”

Eddie snorts, the sound unattractive with the amount of mucus still clogging his sinuses. Steve snickers in response and Eddie lightly slaps him in return. “No, it was important to me and you treated it with respect; that means a lot.”

A contemplative expression settles across Steve’s face, his eyes serious as he lightly rolls his lips and looks back at Eddie. Eddie sees in his eyes the exact moment that he makes his decision. “It would be hypocritical of me if I hadn’t,” Steve says slowly, with significance.

Eddie frowns, not understanding how Steve could be a hypocrite about Eddie’s confession.

“I am too,” Steve clarifies, his arms tighten around him but he thinks it was involuntary by the distracted look on his face.

Eddie blinks, flashing back to Steve scooping Nancy up in his arms from behind, the love and playfulness shining through so brightly that even Eddie could feel it from across the hallway. “No, you’re not,” he rebuts around clumsy lips, “you date girls.”

“First off,” Steve says mildly with a hint of reproach. “Just because you’ve only seen me with girls doesn’t mean you get to dictate my sexuality.”

“God, I sound like Robin,” he mutters under his breath.

More loudly he continues, “And no, I’m not one way in particular, I just like who I like. Yeah, it’s always been easier with girls.” Steve’s face twists like he’s bitten into a lemon, “Easier to meet expectations, easier to bring them home; but I think it was somewhere between wanting to hold hands with Thomas D. on the playground and the third time Tommy and I made out drunk just for ‘laughs’ that I figured out it wasn’t just. You know, girls.”

“So you’re gay,” Eddie needs to clarify this, needs to make sure there is no room for misunderstandings.

Steve hums, wiggling his head a little as he considers it. “I like the term queer, personally. It gives me a nice umbrella to play under rather than labelling me one thing or another. But yeah, I’m not strictly straight.”

Eddie snorts, the inelegant sound ripped through him at one thought.

Steve eyes him doubtfully and Eddie laughs, shaking his head. “No, it’s not at you. It’s just — poor Tommy. You know he likes you, right? I mean obviously you do if you’ve made out with him.”

His mouth dropping open, Steve trips over his words. “No. No, he doesn’t. He just wanted to practise, and I liked it so…” Steve stops, eyes blanking as he obviously replays years’ worth of less-than-heterosexual interactions.

Eddie tuts playfully, “You shouldn’t assume someone’s sexuality, Stevie.”

Steve’s eyes narrow and he glares down at Eddie, still propped on his chest with a clear smile. “At least I didn’t do it when someone’s coming out to me.” Eddie winces, “Sorry, that wasn’t cool of me. Especially after you were so chill at my reveal.”

Steve sighs, running a hand over Eddie’s hair; he wants to nuzzle into it like a pet. “If it helps, I talked a lot of this out with Robin a while back. I didn’t have the words for it then either, and I was probably a lot less chill than you. But the more I talked the more I understood myself.”

He nods, that makes sense. Even in the small slice he’s taken tonight, Eddie’s begun to feel steadier about this part of himself. Steve smiles at him in understanding, “You don’t have to get it right every time, Eddie. You just have to try, that’s all.”

Eddie’s throat thickens and his nod is a little jerky, eyes once more becoming watery, but Steve doesn’t say anything. He only slides a comforting hand down Eddie’s hair again; Eddie takes the chance this time to nuzzle into his palm. Enjoying the warmth and care in his touch.

Steve chuckles, “You’re like a cat.”

“Meow,” Eddie drawls dryly even as he pushes his head demandingly into Steve’s palm.

Steve’s smile sobers slightly. “And the thing about Randy: I’m sorry. It’s none of my business who you decide to be with.” A flash of something dark and strained passes through his eyes, “And even though I said it really terribly, I did mean it in the end. You deserve to be able to just hang out with your boyfriend or bring him around to Wayne. Now that I’m spending more time out of the house, we could organise something.” He grimaces, “But, uh, maybe not in the bed we share. I know it’s an all-around weird situation, but just not that.”

Eddie squeezes his eyes tight, burying his face in Steve’s chest. This again.

“Steve,” he groans. “Steve-o. Sugar. Babycakes. I don’t have a boyfriend.” He can almost hear Steve’s mouth open. “Nor,” he quickly adds before the idiot can stick his foot further in it, “do I want to go out with Randy Mullins. He is not who I like.”

Under him, Steve’s chest expands and retracts in a quick, faltering breath. “Who do you like, then?”

Eddie sighs tiredly, between working up the bravery to come out and spending a good portion of the past half hour crying in Steve’s arms, he’s exhausted. He’s not sure he has the emotional bandwidth to discuss his desire for the man whose arms remain wrapped around him.

Still, taking his courage in hand and running towards something had felt pretty damn liberating. He can do one more small thing, Eddie decides. One skip of that smooth, white stone that he has honed and crafted tonight. Eddie looks up, meeting Steve’s eyes head-on and trying to reach through to him, “Not Randy Mullins.”

Steve’s eyes flicker and he swallows. His mouth opens and shuts for a moment before he nods, a stuttered thing. “Okay,” he says shakily.

“Okay?” Eddie asks, praying that this is one thing that won’t be misunderstood.

“Okay,” Steve smiles, eyes crinkling.

A yawn overtakes Eddie. He tries to press it into Steve’s chest but he’s pretty sure that he just made the least attractive face to the boy he sort of confessed to just now. Steve’s smile deepens and he gently extracts Eddie, turning him to face the window and scooting behind him. Curled around like lovers, though still a respectful distance between them.

“This okay?” Steve breathes into his neck.

The lids of his eyes closing heavily, Eddie hears the breaking rain patter softly against the trailer walls. “Perfect,” he murmurs before falling heavily into a welcoming darkness.

 

 

Notes:

well my lovelies, with What I Am we are officially past the first third of Copper Boy. how are you enjoying it so far?

Chapter 14: Beyond the Line

Summary:

Last chapter, spurred by jealousy Steve accused Eddie of dating Randy only to be mistakenly horrified at his misunderstanding, suddenly thinking that Eddie is straight. But Eddie took back his narrative and, for the first time, talked about his queerness. The boys reconciled and Eddie strongly hinted to Steve that it's not Randy, but Steve, that he likes.

This chapter, Wayne is told off by Eddie about the condoms, the boys talk about what they want from each other, and Steve will always catch Eddie.

A delicate finger moves over Eddie’s forehead and above his closed eyes, mapping the bridge with tender affection. He feels the catch of a callous when the touch slides gently down the slope of his nose as if the lines and curves of his face are being committed to memory.

The movement however is just that side of too gentle and it tickles him, making him twitch his nose and squint over at Steve’s serene face. “Too light,” Eddie grumbles.

Steve laughs quietly even as his eyes flash, “Need a firmer touch then?” He increases the pressure of his finger to teasingly trail down to Eddie’s cupid bow. Eddie squirms under the covers and presses a fleeting kiss to Steve’s finger in response; a devil rises in him, and he flicks out his tongue at the last moment, tasting the salty flesh caressing him.

The look in Steve’s eyes deepens, his breath momentarily hitching but he draws his hand away to rest between them. Last night’s rain had spent the lingering grey clouds and the glow of the returned sun now highlights Steve’s square jaw, the dusting of stubble giving him an appealingly rougher look. In the bed, the two of them are curled towards each other like their very own ouroboros; no ending or beginning, only joined in one long loop.

“How are you feeling?” Steve asks, calmer eyes resting on him now.

Eddie takes stock of his body and the slight wheeze that still sounds from one nostril, “Like my eyes are puffy and my nose is blocked.”

“You did have a pretty fierce snore on this morning,” Steve mildly agrees with a teasing tone.

Eddie playfully pouts in mock displeasure and is pleased to see Steve’s gaze drop, but eventually, he admits, “I feel good. Like I ditched a weight I didn’t even know I was carrying.”

An expression of pride flickers across Steve’s face and it lights a corresponding warmth in Eddie’s chest, only enflamed higher by his next words. “I said it last night, but you did well. I know all the shame and fear that comes with talking about all the things we’re not supposed to. Not allowed to,” Steve adds a touch bitterly, “but you slam dunked it.”

Eddie blushes at the praise. To distract himself he pokes at Steve, “Did you just use a sports metaphor not only for the complicated and complex process of coming out but also first thing in the morning? Sweetheart,” he tsks in mock disappointment, “we’ve talked about this.”

Steve rolls his eyes. “No, we haven’t and just last week you told me to throw caution to the hobgoblins when that meat looked borderline off.”

“And their god of war blessed us with delicious meatloaf.”

Steve reaches forward and tugs a chunk of Eddie’s hair, “I blessed you with that meal.”

“That you did,” Eddie agrees solemnly, mirth dancing through his words and widening his smile. He adjusts his head on the pillow, settling into a comfier position. “It’s hard to think of you having to hide something. How did you come out?”

Steve sighs, a shadow crossing over his face. “Well, it’s not like I’m loud and proud across Hawkins if that’s what you mean. Once you’ve gone up against real-life monsters it’s hard to work up much fear about Johnny-dickhead at the shops, but I’m still sensible about courting danger. Especially if it’s going to put Robin or the kids in the firing path.”

His lips twist, “My parents don’t know, which I don’t care about. The kids don’t either, which I will care about eventually, so I’ll have to work towards that.”

Eddie can’t help the snort that escapes, “How many children are in your life?”

Steve huffs out a self-deprecating laugh. “Too many. But Robin knows and we made some friends outside of Hawkins, that’s helped. But really it was me and Robin on that bathroom floor, spilling our guts figuratively and literally. It was the best and worst birthday I’ve ever had.”

Eddie will come back to the coming out, he will. But now he has to know, “And when is the mighty event?”

“Why?” Steve asks suspiciously.

“It’s not a hard question, Stevie,” Eddie says with exasperation. “I know my friends’ birthdays and they know mine, which is March 1st by the way, so start thinking about my present—” Steve snickers. “—so why shouldn’t I know yours?”

Steve rolls his eyes, “July 4th.”

Eddie’s mouth drops open, “You really are the all-American boy. But fantastic, you get all the fireworks without having to pay for it.”

Steve lets out a doubting sound, “More like having a birthday on Christmas, it sort of gets lost amongst the celebrations.”

Squinting, Eddie is filled with a familiar suspicion, “Please tell me you normally celebrate your birthday?”

“Usually there’s a gathering with important contacts so not so much with my family,” Steve’s shrug is far too casual for Eddie’s liking. “Tommy knew that I wasn’t a fan so he never pushed it.”

“Did you wish that he'd pushed it?” Eddie asks sombrely.

Steve shrugs again, gaze fixed at a point past Eddie’s ear. “I have a feeling that Robin’s not going to let me get away with it this year, but that first time we—” He stops, rolling his lips in a familiar gesture of restraint. “It just didn’t happen,” he concludes lamely, eyes flicking back to Eddie. “It is what it is.”

“But in one birthday you got a best friend and to come out? Explains why it’s in your top ten.” Eddie tries not to let his frustration bleed into his tone; Steve will only think that it’s directed at him, but it isn’t.

It’s hard sometimes, catching a glimpse of Present Steve at school or about town and knowing that he is likely alone and lonely. It makes him want to reach out, give him a friendly ear at the very least, but he’s not a friend yet and he’s trying to abide by that part of the timeline. One thing is for sure: Eddie doesn’t know when Robin comes into Steve’s life, but he is fiercely glad for it.

“Top three, at least,” Steve rebuts, clearly trying to lighten Eddie’s mood.

He shakes it off, returning to the original matter at hand as he had promised himself. “And you felt lighter too, afterwards?” Eddie prompts.

Steve stops, mulling over his words and eyes distant as he recollects his past. “It was like I had packed up a part of myself years ago, taped shut a box around it and left it to rot in the basement. And the feeling that came after, it wasn’t immediate. It wasn’t like I told Robin I had a crush on a dude and immediately felt like I got my queer card.”

Eddie ruthlessly buries the twinge of jealousy at the idea of Steve crushing on another man because down that road leads to all sorts of questions. Like, did he ever act on it? Is there some guy in the future waiting and pining for the perfection that is Steve to come back to him? Eddie will go mad if he dwells on it.

Steve continues, oblivious to Eddie’s brief but violent war with himself. “But then Robin and I kept talking; it was like remembering the box and opening it up again. And inside was a littler version of me. Just this scrawny kid who was afraid and I was able to hug him and tell him that it’ll be okay. He’s going to have a bunch of smart-asses in his back pocket and on his shoulder a best friend he’ll never be able to get rid of. I’d have family,” Steve concludes, devastatingly simple.

Perhaps it’s a small bite of that jealousy coming back, but Eddie thinks back to and some friends outside of Hawkins. “And are they it?” Eddie asks in an arch tone.

Steve shrugs indifferently. “I’ve had my fun,” he admits. “Nothing serious, but I didn’t want to get bogged down in my head so I decided to just jump in. Sink or swim, you know. What better way to figure stuff out than to try and see what works for me?”

Fondness rises like warm bread in Eddie, nourishing and good. “You’re such a jock,” he teases.

Steve’s eyes flicker with wariness, “Is that a problem?”

Eddie winks, “I’ve always known of your unfortunate athletic background, baby.”

“No,” Steve says seriously, “the other stuff, about my sexual history.”

Eddie shakes his head. He may feel ridiculous twinges about invisible men who may or may not be pining after his Steve, but he doesn’t begrudge him the right to find himself and have fun in the process. “No, of course not. Whatever you’ve done before, it’s none of my business.”

Steve nibbles on his lip before asking, “And now?”

Eddie can feel his lips stretching over his teeth with how broad his smile becomes, “I’d like it to be, now.”

“So, I didn’t misread last night?” Steve’s eyes shine hopefully.

“No,” Eddie reassures him around a burst of happiness, frenetic energy filling him, foolishly urging him to press his face into the pillow and squeal like a middle-schooler in front of their crush. He resists with the barest of restraint, but the reminder that he’s not far off of the image sobers Eddie slightly. “But, uh, my… history is a little different.”

“Eddie,” Steve says softly, “whatever’s happened in the past, I don’t care about it as long as you were safe and happy.”

“Oh, I was definitely safe,” Eddie mutters into his hair, having drawn a large chunk in front of his face to hide behind.

“What did you say?” Steve extends a finger to draw the hair to the side, Eddie peeks out the dark gap like a mouse poking its nose through a crack in the wall.

Eddie huffs out a breath, pumping himself up to just say it. “I’ve not. Done much of anything with anyone else, that is. So there’s that.”

“But you’re so hot?” Steve frowns in disbelief, which is adorable and flattering and Eddie chooses not to trot out his list of weird body parts because that would reject the precious gift of Steve Harrington, beautiful, sun-kissed, golden boy, thinking that pale weirdo Eddie Munson is hot.

“There’s never really been anyone I wanted to do the bigger stuff with,” Eddie explains. “Like, I’d think someone was cute or something. Even enjoyed the visual delights of the occasional shirts vs skins game,” Eddie teasingly leers at Steve, which raises a rewarding dust of colour across his cheekbones. “But guys were either hot and no fun. Or fun but the chemistry wasn’t there. So, no. I’ve not done much of anything with anyone beyond a little making-out.”

“Okay,” Steve nods slowly and encouragingly. “And now?” he echoes.

Eddie wonders whether it’s Steve’s deeper experience that has him so intent on establishing clear boundaries or whether it’s just the care he obviously holds for Eddie. It makes him warm either way. But it makes him squirm a little too, the idea of Steve taking charge.

He can’t know what Eddie is thinking, but Steve’s eyes darken at whatever he sees. The heaviness of it prickles under Eddie’s sensitive skin, raising goosebumps at the nape of his neck.

“Now,” Eddie says a little huskily, “I have a hot guy in my bed who I have a lot of fun with; I’d like to take it from there.”

“That can be arranged,” Steve's lips spread in a knowing smirk that has Eddie’s toes curling in anticipation and he weighs how badly he wants to lean over and kiss Steve against the very bad morning breath he has after a night of crying. He moans, turning to fall dramatically over onto his back, arm splayed across his face in despair, “You have no idea how much I want to touch you right now, but I really need a shower.”

He hears a rustle followed by the creak of the mattress as Steve gets out of bed. Turning to look, he watches Steve slide his shirt off, throwing it at Eddie’s chest with a burning look.

Eddie’s breath stops, captivated by all the warm skin on display, the curves and lines of his muscles that subtly flex under the skin of his torso. Steve’s smirks deepens. “Dibs,” he says and struts out of the bedroom, likely knowing that Eddie is watching every second of that biteable ass bounce away.

Eddie burrows his head into his arm again with a heartfelt moan; Steve is going to kill him by the end of all this, he just knows it.

He gives himself a few moments to calm down before rolling out of bed himself, shambling barefoot into the kitchen. Wayne is dressed, sitting in the armchair with his newspaper and cup of joe, they both nod to each other in amiable silence. Wayne because the caffeine probably hasn’t kicked in yet and Eddie because he’s still lost in the wonderment that Steve is figuratively in his bed now, not just in a weird roommate situation but as something far dirtier if Eddie gets his way.

Pouring a cup of coffee into his mug, Eddie thinks that based on the look Steve had shot him earlier he can call it a safe bet. He absently fingers the rough whittling Steve had made of his BMW sitting on the counter, the wheels a little too boxy to look right, but generally recognisable. Imagines Steve's hands on him instead; the idea sends a shiver down Eddie's spine, the urge to touch itching at his fingertips.

Placing two slices of bread in the toaster, he opens the cutlery drawer to grab a knife when he remembers the item that led to all this. He opens and closes two drawers before he finds the incriminating black and neon green box.

Even though he can hear the pounding of the water in the bathroom, Eddie glances over his shoulder to check that Steve is nowhere in sight. He scuttles over to Wayne, hands falling to his hips in a way that he thinks he may have picked up from Steve.

“Why’d you do it, old man?”

Wayne raises his head with a mild rise of his brow, the creases of his high forehead seem to tell Eddie that his uncle is once more weathering the vagaries of youth.

“The other week — why’d you buy the Trojans,” he clarifies, feeling like it should be obvious despite the vagueness of his opener.

“Eddie,” Wayne says, his deep voice matter of fact. “We live in a time of a big health scare; you have to do the responsible thing and suit up.”

“Oh my god,” Eddie mutters under his breath. “No, why did you think I needed them? Did you say something to Steve about Randy? I thought you barely knew him.”

Wayne squints blankly up at him before frowning in disapproval, “You better tell me right now that you’re not stepping out on Steve.”

Eddie looks up at the sky, asking for divine patience. Buddha. Allah. Someone guide him through the minefield that is his uncle’s protective nature. “Let me get this right, you bought condoms because you thought Steve and I were together? Like together.”

Wayne nods, “I’m not so old my eyesight’s given way yet, Eds.”

“We weren’t though when you bought those,” Eddie moans into his palms, pressing the meat of them into his eye sockets, splotchy fireworks bearing witness to his pain.

Wayne smiles knowingly, “Not then, huh.” With a satisfied rustle, he turns back to his paper. The distant sound of the pipes closing signals the end of Steve’s shower.

Eddie drops his hands. “I thought he was straight,” he confesses.

Wayne dips the corner of his paper again, staring at Eddie with a furrowed brow for so long that he starts to shift uneasily on his feet. “Eds,” Wayne begins, “I never said this to you because I’ve didn't believe it to be true. Grades don’t make the man, and you’re the smartest boy when it comes to your stories and music, but this has to be said: you’re an idiot.”

Eddie groans, dropping onto the couch in embarrassment. Steve knew Eddie was gay. Wayne knew Steve wasn’t straight. Does everyone have a functioning gaydar but him?

He looks over at Wayne and sees that his eyes are averted, lips pressed together so hard they’re almost white. Eddie thinks he’s choosing his next words of chastisement until he realises that Wayne’s holding onto his mirth by a thin thread.

Steve exits the bathroom, hair damp and adorned in jeans and his Van Halen shirt, the printed VH atop a multicoloured, neon rainbow. Wayne takes one look at the arc of colours so reminiscent of the flag and loses it, letting out a loud, unrestrained bellow of laughter that radiates through the trailer.

Steve squeezes his locks with the bath towel, smile unsure but game as he asks, “Did I do something?”

Wayne’s laughter, which had started to fade into chuckles erupts again at Steve’s words, the paper in his hands crinkling as he bends over in amusement. Eddie sits on the edge of his seat, mortified and burning red. He’s buying his uncle fake dog shit this Christmas, see if he ever gets a cool novelty mug from his formerly loving nephew ever again.

Wayne sobers slightly but still chuckles. “Yes, probably,” he snickers into his fist.

“That’s it!” Eddie declares, striding into the kitchen to grab his dry toast and mug of undoctored coffee. He makes sure to slam close the drawer with the condoms still conspicuously hidden in it before escaping into the sanctuary of his bedroom.

Steve doesn’t follow immediately. But as he hears his bark of laughter ring in the air shortly afterwards, Eddie decides that he’ll be buying both of them fake dog shit for Christmas this year.

 

---

 

Steve’s head is heavy in his lap, staring up at him beseechingly. His wide hazel eyes framed by lashes so long that he looks like a Disney princess welcoming a gaggle of woodland creatures. The weight is welcome to Eddie, grounding in a way, but the feeling of having Steve willing to come back into his personal space again feels far more valuable. “Please.”

“No. I’m following Taigiel’s thirst for vengeance through the frozen plains of the tundra. He was betrayed. Like someone I know.”

He’s not. He’s barely seeing the words what with the distraction of Steve’s head resting right above Eddie’s dick; but Steve had walked in from talking with Wayne, taken one look at Eddie’s mutinous face and burst into laughter so hard that he had to walk out again to get himself under control.

By the time Eddie finished his shower, Steve was contritely sitting on the bed waiting for him. Eddie had sniffed and settled in with his Dragon magazine.

Steve’s lower lip drops, the slick pink of it enough to draw Eddie’s traitorous gaze. “But I want you to come for a walk with me, I’ll show you all the nice spots.”

Eddie hums absently like he’s forgotten all about him, “You’ve never taken me before.”

“There could be squirrels, you like small animals.”

He feels himself bending as Steve continues to twist his rubber arm. Nevertheless. “I could just wait for bins night, bound to be a racoon or two.”

“Yeah, Wayne said you tried to adopt one when you were thirteen,” Steve smirks up at him.

Eddie scowls, “Not doing much to stop the accusations of betrayal there, buttercup.”

“Ah-huh!” Steve jumps up, pulling on his socks while standing crouched over. Eddie never understands why he doesn’t put them on while sitting. “Come on, then.”

Eddie looks at him in bewilderment, “When did I say I was going?”

Grinning over his shoulder, Steve says, “You called me buttercup, that means yes.”

Eddie scowls again even as he places the magazine on the bedside table, a female slave dressed very similar to Leia in her gold bikini glares up at him in accusation. Just call him Gumby. “Okay, but only the best trees are going to cut it.”

Steve blows a raspberry at him for the lame pun but promises: “I’ll give you the best I’ve got, baby.”

Eddie rolls his eyes but follows Steve to pull on his Reeboks. Steve stuffs his hair under the in bacon we trust trucker hat and grins before grabbing Eddie’s hand, pulling him behind him from out of the trailer and towards the woods.

He’s watched Steve walk out beyond the tree marker before, at first feeling a small hollow gnawing at his gut while watching his back become smaller in the distance. But as Steve returned every time, and always looking more settled and at peace, Eddie had come to appreciate the woods as another element of refuge for him.

In the open space between the trailer and the tree line, Steve’s stride had been quick as if he fears that even a glimpse of his body outside of their home is going to spark some change in the timeline, but once they cross the threshold Steve’s gait slows. The tension and haste drops away and his grip on Eddie’s hand shifts, moving so that their fingers are intertwined and pulling him closer as they walk with their arms lightly brushing.

It's peaceful amongst the maple and birch trees with the dappled light rippling playfully across the forest floor. The rain from last night has left the air crisp while nurturing the deep earthy scent of fresh dirt and damp moss.

Every inhalation feels like a washing out of the old, scrubbing down the formerly cramped space within him. Steve points to a puddle at the base of a bare blackberry bush; a small blue jay dips its head in and out of the water, vigorously shaking with spray erupting from around its body. It’s adorable and Eddie smiles.

“This is nice,” he admits.

Steve squeezes his hand and leads him onwards, “I always wanted to share it with you.” He pauses, “That sounds weird, doesn’t it? Like this is my woods, even though it’s your backyard.”

“No,” Eddie shakes his head gently, “my closest connection to nature is the bench I deal at; I like the idea of it all in theory, but I usually end up with my pants full of ants and bitten to all hell by mosquitoes. I’ve also been known to trip on air, so a woodland ground littered with sticks and rocks is bound to take me down eventually.”

Steve laughs, pulling a vibrant green leaf off a birch tree to fiddle with it in his free hand. “Like the time you rammed nose first into the gym wall?”

Eddie gapes. “You saw that? No one saw that.”

“It was a bit hard to miss, Eddie,” Steve says wryly, “you had bright red blood streaming down your face. To be honest, I was going to offer to take you to the nurse’s office, but you ran out so fast that I left you to it.

A blush of embarrassment spreads across his face, “So everyone saw that.”

Steve draws Eddie to a stop, brushing a knuckle down his hot cheeks, “No, I’m pretty sure that I was the only one looking.”

Eddie searches Steve’s eyes, finding affection and a touch of heat that causes the back of his neck to prickle. “Yeah, like something you see?”

Steve steps forward, which makes Eddie inexplicably feel the need to move back. He retreats a fraction and Steve’s eyes narrow. “Eddie,” he says prowling closer and Eddie backs away with a larger movement.

“Yeah, Steve?” Eddie asks breathlessly, feeling his body tense, muscles almost quivering with the tension filling them.

“You have ten seconds,” Steve says deeply, his words a rumble Eddie can almost feel in his chest. Electric tension crackles in the air, sparking the pounding of Eddie’s heartbeat, each thud growing louder, faster, and more insistent. He stands frozen in the mounting pressure until Steve starts to count.

“Nine, eight…”

The dam breaks and Eddie darts away, the tall trees that surround them blurring as a surge of adrenalin propels his legs across the ground with reckless speed. He can’t hear anything over the pulse pounding in his head, but he imagines the heavy tread of Steve’s steps behind him, a powerful thumping that matches the heat in his blood.

The thrill of pursuit fizzes through him, filling Eddie with radiant exultation, laughter breathlessly spilling from his open mouth. His flight is dizzying anticipation and playful freedom.

Just as Eddie giddily thinks that perhaps he is too fast, even for Steve, he is tackled from behind; Steve wrapping a quick arm around his middle, the strong band redirecting his flight forward to spin him around in mid-air and back down onto the ground again.

Steve’s breath pants into Eddie’s hair making Eddie's fingers and toes curl, “Got you.”

Eddie wiggles like he’s trying to get away, causing Steve to laugh breathlessly. “None of that,” he commands, spinning Eddie to back him up against a broad tree trunk. Strands of Steve’s bronze hair have fallen over his face, his cheeks ruddy with exertion, and excitement high in his expression. Eddie wants to lick him all over.

“You still trying to get away from me, huh?” Steve says, voice dropping to gravel as he runs his eyes over Eddie’s panting mouth and heaving chest.

“Why? Worried you can’t catch me?” Eddie lightly taunts.

Steve’s eyes turn dark, the hint of heat in his gaze flickering higher, reaching the heights of wildfire. Eddie shivers in the thrill of prey tempting predator that crackles through his body. The tension only twists tighter as Steve leans in with slow deliberation, he draws the tip of his strong nose firmly across Eddie’s cheek, his breath hot in Eddie’s ear, “I think I’d always be able to find you, Eddie. No matter where you are.”

Eddie’s knees almost give way, and he is incredibly grateful for the strong maple tree propping him up from behind. As if sensing his sudden weakness, Steve’s hands come up to grip Eddie’s hips, pressing him further back into the rough bark of the trunk. He thinks that Steve could pin his hands, splay them like Jesus on the cross and he would happily give his body over like a pagan worshipping the old gods.

Instead, the world falls away beneath him, momentarily disorienting Eddie as Steve cups his backside and lifts him with a grunt, Eddie swiftly wraps his legs around his body, the wide stretch of his thighs already filling him with a lewd thrill. Steve palms his ass feverishly, “Do you want me to catch you, Eddie?” He asks, staring up into Eddie’s eyes, the question heavy and full of portent.

Eddie licks his lips and Steve’s gaze drops. “Always,” he solemnly promises.

A broken sound erupts from Steve before he presses Eddie harder against the tree trunk, moving an unyielding hand to grip the back of Eddie’s nape and draw him down to capture his mouth. Leaving behind all light testings of boundaries, a carefulness that would have driven Eddie mad, Steve takes his lips in a forceful union, demanding and ravenous. Drawing them into a fever of slick, open waves threatening to drown the other in their embrace.

Eddie barely holds onto Steve, hungrily moaning when he draws Eddie’s tongue into the hot cavern of his mouth, sucking on it in a way that makes him feel almost slutty with how desperately he needs to move in Steve’s arms, compelled to show him how fervently he would follow into those choppy swells. Steve must know, he must because he bucks suddenly, grinding into him with a desperation that draws a spreading wetness to the front of Eddie’s boxers, losing himself to a wretched pleasure not quite within his grasp.

Steve gasps, drawing back and chest heaving like he has broken free from the watery depths, “Shit, we have to stop.”

Eddie whines: Steve’s mouth shouldn’t be doing anything but attacking with lips and tongue and teeth. He chases him, but Steve draws his head to the side, burying into the crook of Eddie’s neck. “I don’t want our first time to be a five-second fuck against a tree, Eddie.”

But Steve’s neck is right there, an alluring expanse of skin and Eddie licks it, the flat plane of his tongue sweeping across the rich, earthy taste of Steve, swallowing it, absorbing it deep into the salty waters of his body. Steve shudders, his hand at the back of Eddie’s neck tightening, pulling him back. He draws Eddie’s face in close, resting his forehead against his, eyes burning but in control, “Not right now, baby. Just give me some time, I want to make this right.”

The building composure in Steve’s gaze cools Eddie’s ardour somewhat, naturally following his lead. Eddie’s pout is only partly feigned this time, “I’m sure it wouldn’t be five seconds.” Steve allows him to stretch slightly forward and nibble his cheek, just a light worrying of the meat between Eddie’s teeth. “Maybe, but I’d like to give you more than this,” Steve rumbles under his ministrations.

Eddie sighs in acceptance and Steve reluctantly pulls away further, carefully dropping his feet back onto solid ground. Eddie wobbles a little on his rubbery knees and Steve holds him upright until he gains his footing. They both resolutely ignore the tenting in their jeans, but Eddie does enjoy watching Steve adjust himself. A pool of spit builds in his mouth that he swallows innocently after Steve’s warning look.

Eddie sighs again, taking Steve’s hand and leading him in a random direction. “I guess that’s what comes from being with a romantic.” He snags a leaf from the maple tree Steve had held him against, running his fingers over its lines before stuffing it in his pocket.

“What?” Steve says, sounding almost disgruntled. “I’m not a romantic. You just deserve to have a little…” He fades off, a chagrined expression crossing his face.

“Romance?” Eddie grins.

Steve huffs, but a smile spreads across his face as he tugs Eddie in the opposite direction, “Come on, it’s this way.”

 

 

Notes:

Robin and Steve had a lot of time between Starcourt and Vecna to be young and free, and find out who they are. for the most part they visited places outside of Hawkins and there was lots of dancing and lots of snogging

Eddie snagging the leaf from the tree at the end is a part of something that I had to drop out of the text. if you're interested in what it's about, let me know in the comments and I'll explain further xx

Chapter 15: Fright Night

Summary:

Last chapter, Eddie discovered that everyone has a functioning gaydar but himself, including Wayne. Steve and Eddie talked about, respectively, their sexual/dating experience and inexperience, and it all ended in a thrilling chase and first kiss in the woods.

This chapter, Eddie convinces Steve to spend one night out of the trailer and the two boys go on a date.

The subtle rustle of pages turning is the only sound in the trailer, a soothing rhythm echoed in the measured stroking of Steve’s fingers through Eddie’s hair. Steve lays lounged across the couch, folded magazine in one hand while Eddie sits on the brown and white carpet, head pillowed against the plush muscle of Steve’s thigh and reading one of Catherine’s medical textbooks.

The human body really can get filthy, he reflects. It’s sort of cool that people have worked out ways to see the invisible, but he also now understands why she keeps emphasising that he needs to wash his hands.

It's getting harder to keep his focus though while Steve’s fingers absently find their way through the strands of his long hair. The words in front of Eddie become unfocused as his eyes soften, lids shuttering close until a relaxed sigh escapes from the depths of his chest. He might just start purring and become the cat that Steve keeps crediting him as being.

But it’s just so nice. Eddie wants to put a more complicated label on it than that simply because he likes the feel of description in his mouth, but Steve’s gentle yet firm, persistent touches leave Eddie often feeling loose-limbed and nice.

And Steve has been persistent. Casually and never in an intrusive or unwanted way; rather, Eddie often luxuriates in the attention. But the affection Steve had shown before in nonchalantly holding onto his hand or pressing a warm palm to his back as he moved past has kicked up a notch. Like he had been restraining himself.

Now his physical affection overflows in little strokes of his fingers across Eddie’s neck when he walks past, dragging his palms over Eddie’s hips as they stand together, or drawing Eddie’s legs into his lap to play with the little curls of hair at the base of his ankle. Never with the expectation of more, but simply as a demonstration of the warmth and affection that clearly powers Steve’s heart and hands. However, more often than not, Steve’s attention leaves Eddie squirming in his seat until he’s worked his way into his lap, kissing him heatedly from above.

While they’ve certainly earned a mature rating they’ve not done much more than getting wound up as they rub up against each other. Steve’s resolution in the woods somehow developing into let’s give Eddie time to work up to the big stuff. But what actually has Eddie beating off twice a day in the bathroom and wondering how big a sign he has to give Steve that they need to take it up a level.

It doesn’t help that Wayne’s around half the time either. Their bed innocently creaking as they settle each evening in a way that haunts Eddie; the stupidly imaginative part of his brain vividly paints the image of his uncle in the next room, eyes wide and traumatised as he has no choice but to hear him and Steve going at it. The cold shudder of the thought has any hint of arousal draining away.

And the living room is just as precarious. Eddie had Steve where he’d wanted just last night, nibbling on his neck on the couch and grinding his thigh against the hardness in his jeans, Steve’s eyes just this side of glassy that Eddie’s sure he could work into a loss of control, when they’d heard the rumble of Wayne’s truck outside. Grudgingly they had pulled apart, Eddie heading into their bedroom to make himself decent, and Steve to calm down in the kitchen, turning on the stovetop that he had hastily shut off after Eddie jumped him.

He hears the magazine crinkle before Steve says, “Hey, when this is released on video, we should hire it. I think you’d like it.” Eddie reluctantly opens his eyes to spot the recommended movie section at the back of Steve’s TV Guide. A small square shows the picture of a ghostly creature looming over a house covered in shadows, Fright Night printed above it with the t’s in the shape of vampire stakes.

“I like vampires,” he agrees languidly, but spotting the opening dates an idea begins to form.

“It’s fun,” Steve says, drawing the magazine away. “Sort of campy, like it plays with a lot of the things you’d expect from old horror movies.” He snaps his finger in memory, “Like it references itself — meta.”

“Robin?” Eddie asks knowingly. Steve had mentioned her love for cinema and also his noble sacrifice in watching double VHS for her. Now, he grins sheepishly, “Yeah, but I really did like watching it; I think you would too.”

“What if,” Eddie starts cautiously, “we pick a night that is usually pretty empty of moviegoers and we hit the drive-in? It’s already out, we could do it this week.”

Steve’s face twists with regret, “Eddie, no. Even the woods are pushing it.”

Eddie moves up onto his knees, pressing himself over Steve’s torso, eyes wide and earnest, “Come on. You hide in the back of the van and once the movie starts no one’s going to be looking over at us. Especially if I pull it around to the back, the doors will shelter us from any looky-loos.”

Steve nibbles his lip, clearly torn. “It would be nice to get out, just once.” Eddie lights up, squirming in excitement. “But just once,” he warns seriously.

Eddie nods solemnly and Steve’s stern face relents, giving way to a soft expression as he draws Eddie’s head closer with a hand tenderly cupping the back of his head. Pressing a kiss to his forehead, he murmurs, “You’re always looking out for me.”

Eddie blushes, he’s only suggesting a movie not taking the guy out to Enzos or anything. He sighs wistfully as he settles back into his seat, Enzos or any romantic date night is probably out of the question for Hawkins. He’s heard that there are places in the bigger cities that are more open, but it’s not happening here any time soon.

He thinks about it that afternoon and it’s not like he can make the van match the ambience of a candlelit dinner, but on the day he clears out the usual debris and stores soft blankets and pillows inside for them to recline on. It’s not perfect, but it’ll have to do.

Steve sees it later and hums an approving noise as he clambers into the back, making Eddie glow with a subtle gratification. The dark veil of night has fallen and the crickets are almost deafening, but he knows that Steve is likely reassured by the shadows helping to conceal him. Nevertheless, as Eddie starts the van, Steve speaks from behind the passenger seat. “You have to drive carefully,” he warns.

Eddie rolls his eyes while pushing Steve’s 1984 tape into the stereo, “I will.”

“Cause I can’t have Hopper or Callahan see me in the back of your van. Just pretend like I have a concussion or something.” Eddie laughs gently in memory, looking over the seats to Steve’s worried expression. “You caught that, huh?

“It was very different from your usual squeal around the corner,” Steve grimaces.

Eddie rolls his eyes again, carefully pulling off the gravel and onto the path, “And you did have a concussion.”

“Po-tae-toe, po-tah-ta.” Eddie can almost hear Steve’s sulky expression; it makes him grin and he turns up Jump just for his guy. He looks back a minute later and is amused to see Steve’s pout has disappeared as he enthusiastically sings along with the lyrics.

Eddie sticks to the speed limit and resists running over any old ladies at the stop signs. Steve thanks him dryly for the latter when he points it out. The ticket server doesn’t seem interested in checking the back, which only gives Eddie ideas for filling the van with his friends at another time. But overall, he says to Steve as he reverses, the giant screen behind them still black, this has been a success.

“Just wait here,” Eddie pats down his pocket to make sure he’s got his wallet, “I’ll go get popcorn.” He hears a rustling sound before Steve’s muffled voice comes through the van windows, “Okay, but don’t get ice cream, I got Wayne to get us a treat.”

Eddie shakes his head fondly, heading to the brightly lit service area where a scattering of people are lining up or sitting at the open-air benches. It looks like a bug zapper luring in the springtime insects what with the rest of the lot mostly cast in darkness. But as he looks around at the spread-out cars, he’s satisfied that he hadn’t been lying to Steve and that it’s unlikely anyone will be close enough to look into the van.

When he nears the counter there’s only one guy waiting for the server to come back with his purchase, a Hawkins High Tiger jacket slung over his back and blonde hair shining under the fluorescent lights. Eddie likes to keep clear of all jocks but one for the most part, so he’s annoyed at his limbs when he trips on air and accidentally jostles the guy. He immediately backs up, “Sorry. Sorry, that was my bad. Grace of a drunk elephant.”

Jason Carver glares absently over his shoulder like he can smell the trash even if he hasn’t spotted it yet. Once he sees that it’s Eddie though, his nose hitches up and lips curl. “Oh, it’s you. Any tables you want to jump on?”

Christ on a stick, it was one time and he’d been reciting Hamlet. Surely this stuck-up little princeling could appreciate that, at the very least. “Excuse me, my lord,” Eddie bows sarcastically at the prick, “I didn’t realise I was in the presence of royalty, should I trail behind at the required eleven paces.”

Jason frowns like he doesn’t get it, which doesn’t surprise Eddie. What almost does is when his eyes flick over Eddie’s shoulder as he looks for something, “You have a date?”

Excuse him, golden boy Steve Harrington called Eddie hot and he channels that satisfaction into ignoring the asshole so he can buy their treats and get back to said date. “Look dude, I could tell you to eat a bag of dicks, but I’m better than that. Let’s just get our shit and depart like the natural enemies of the school ecosystem that we are.”

“That’s a no.” Jason scoffs in amusement at his apparent wit and Eddie’s had enough: he’d apologised, he hadn’t kicked him in the shins when Jason had insulted his masterly performance, and now he thinks that he’s one-upped Eddie.

He takes in the clean-shaven, neat appearance of this Sunday school boy and closes his fingers to make devil’s horns, waving them in front of his forehead and sticking out his tongue in an obscene waggle. “You’re right my liege, I’ve come here for research. How does one raise the undead? Only time and Hawkin’s Drive-Through will tell.” He cackles, widening his eyes and stepping into Jason’s space.

Jason backs up, scowling at Eddie and reaches behind him to grab the large popcorn and drink that had been placed there while they talked. “You’re such a freak, no wonder you can’t get a date.”

Eddie rolls his eyes as Jason stomps away, letting his hands fall. At the side of his vision, he sees movement: Andy McLaughlin, clad similarly to Jason with neat hair and varsity jacket, is refilling his Coke at the free top-up and squinting over at Eddie. He figures Andy’s probably here with Jason and wonders whether they brought girlfriends or if this is a Steve and Tommy situation all over again. After Steve, Eddie isn’t assuming anyone’s sexuality anymore.

Andy’s still contemplating him with a pensive expression, so Eddie says with a touch of the exasperation that ripples through him, “You didn’t actually believe that did you?” Eddie may not think much of any Hawkins jock, but Andy’s never had that same self-righteousness that seems to permeate the very air around Jason.

“You shouldn’t do that around him,” Andy says slowly, releasing the button. A hissing sound follows as the tap closes. “He gets really wound up about religious stuff; you know, god and the devil and all that.”

Eddie rolls his eyes for small-town America, “Are you telling me that he thinks I’m a devil worshipper now? You do realise how batshit insane that is, right? If I had that sort of power under my fingertips, I wouldn’t put up with half the shit I do from you guys.”

Andy grimaces, “I imagine a few of us would find our heads suddenly in a swirly for one.”

Eddie grins: oh ho, this guy might have a sense of humour after all. “You have to be more imaginative than that. I’d at least make you stand in the middle of the cafeteria and confess your worst, most dark secrets. Nice and loud for the rest of us plebs.”

Ander shudders, but a hint of a smile plays around the edges of his mouth, “You don’t know what you’d be unlocking, dude. The things that happen at Benny’s after a game.”

Eddie laughs lightly; maybe Steve isn’t the exception to the rule after all. “Okay, thanks, man. I’ll take that under advisement. The thing about Jason and also how to really stick it to the Tigers if I suddenly acquire magic superpowers.”

Andy snickers and Eddie wonders whether he should be going in the opposite direction, try to cultivate the devil-worshipper persona. It might keep peens like Jason off his back, too scared to cross the line and interact with the devil’s minion. But for now, he has his boy waiting in the van, and he’s not going to jeopardise Steve’s safety.

Andy nods amiably at him as he leaves and Eddie is struck again by what an ignorant prick Jason really is, thinking Eddie’s weird and alone. Half of that is true, sure; but if he only knew that Eddie had scored the best piece of ass that Hawkins has to offer. Probably not the bit about it being another dude though, that’d get the little pecker pulling out the pitchfork and flaming torches.

Eddie briefly wonders about it, as he heads back to the van with their popcorn, drink, and M&Ms for gooey melting shenanigans. Steve had said he wasn’t out and proud in Hawkins but nor did he hide who he is. When all this time fuckery has passed, would he want to not hide who he is with Eddie?

The way that he’d talked about his found family, Eddie thinks that Steve would want them to know that they’re together. Steve’s too open with Wayne for Eddie to think he’s going to hide him like a secret and he’d really like to tell his own friends that he has someone waiting at home. It’s a far-off fantasy since Eddie’s not sure when he’ll be ready to come out as gay, but he could at least introduce them. Possibly have Steve integrate into the group even.

He thinks Jeff would like Steve’s dry humour. Gareth would finally have an outlet to discuss the value of introducing synth into metal. He’s not sure what he’d have in common with Randy, but by the subtle play of displeasure on Steve’s face whenever he’s mentioned, Eddie doesn’t think he’d be gunning for best friends anyway. He should nip it in the bud really, as a responsible adult person capable of a healthy relationship. But after wanting Steve for so long, those little signs of jealousy give him a zip of satisfaction and Steve sees him grin every time, so he knows what Eddie’s doing anyway.

He looks around the lot before pulling open the van doors. Steve sits cross-legged behind them atop the pile of blankets and pillows. “It’s safe,” Eddie reassures him, “and the area is pretty empty, except for asshole jocks.”

Steve frowns and is about to open his mouth before Eddie realises what that sounded like. He laughs, “No, not you, sweetheart. Just one of the Tigers thinking he’s hot shit at the concession stand.”

“Who was it?” Steve asks with a frown, but at Eddie’s words he pales slightly.

“Jason Carver.” Eddie sits next to him, putting the snacks to the side to take his hand. “Hey, it’s okay. There’s no way he’s coming back round; usually, he wouldn’t touch me with a ten-foot pole, but I sort of tripped and bumped into him. It was my fault.”

Steve rallies, Eddie is relieved to see, holding out a hand for the drink, which he sips pensively. They’d come early in case the plan went sideways so the screen remains blank for the moment, the tinny sounds of Hawkin’s local radio station playing in a faraway car. There’s enough darkness to see the twinkle of stars in the distance. Eddie nudges Steve with his elbow, “Come on, I was promised ice cream.”

Steve grins even as he curses, “Shit. They were already half-melted by the time we got here too. I should have pulled them out earlier, sorry.” Steve rustles with the bag, pulling out spoons and finally turning triumphantly with two cartons of ice cream. “Ta-dah. Popcorn and ice cream are a movie must, pick one.”

Playing along, Eddie gravely considers both containers while tapping his forefinger against his chin. He takes so long acting out his deliberation that Steve calls his name laughingly, “Come on, you asshole. Pick one before my hands drop off from the cold.”

Eddie chuckles, taking the obvious choice from Steve’s hand, “Butterscotch me thinks.” He leans over and presses a quick kiss against the warmth of Steve’s cheek, the slight scratch of his freshly shaved jaw tickling Eddie’s lips.

Steve hands over the tub along with a spoon from their kitchen, popping the lid off of the remaining choice, he offers, “We can share if you like, not the first time we’ve swapped spit.” He winks in a goofy manner that has Eddie groaning.

For a moment, Eddie indulges in thoughts of Steve leaning over into his space, personally spoon-feeding him a tab of ice cream. Taking it back only to lick the remnants off with his tongue, sliding the tip around like he’s imagining that it’s Eddie’s cock. Eddie shifts in his seat, telling himself to calm the fuck down; they’ve not even started the movie yet, Christ.

Despite the temptation, he still has to decline Steve’s offer. “Thanks, but I’m allergic to chocolate.”

Steve blinks rapidly, looking down at the rich swirl of chocolate dotted with chunks of marshmallows and nuts like it’s betrayed him. “So… you can’t eat rocky road. Like at all?”

“Not unless I want to break out into hives,” Eddie confirms. “Wayne has an epi-pen at home, but it shouldn’t get to that. But no. No rocky road, no classic chocolate, no triple chocolate, or chocolate brownies — all of which I’ve been assured is nirvana and I’m totally missing out on.”

Steve eyes the sweating tub in Eddie’s hands suspiciously, “And butterscotch?”

“No allergies,” Eddie hedges, looking swiftly away.

“But do you like it, normally?” Steve insists.

Eddie digs up a large scoop to shove it in his mouth, turning a disgusting smile to Steve as a distraction. He just gives him a flat look in return and Eddie swallows, laughing. “Okay, it’s not my favourite. But it’s fine. I like it, sweetheart. Nothing if not for the surprise; I like surprises.”

Steve nods to himself with a thoughtful frown, “Just no rocky road or butterscotch.”

“No probably not,” Eddie confirms, “Not unless I’m under duress.”

This seems to crack Steve up and he bursts into laughter, giggling as he looks between Eddie and the ice cream melting in his lap. Eddie chuckles with him, can’t help but laugh along at the cheer on Steve’s face, even if he doesn’t quite get the joke.

Finally, Steve wipes a wayward tear from the corner of his eye and puts his uneaten tub on the ground outside.

“What are you doing?” Eddie asks, eyeing it.

Steve takes the spoon and butterscotch out of his hand, tossing the spoon aside and placing the ice cream next to the rocky road. He comes back, drawing Eddie closer with a hand at the back of his nape, “Well, I can’t kiss you if I have chocolate, so it’s been banned from the van.” He shifts his hands to gently cup Eddie’s face, meeting his lips in a gentle graze that speaks of a sweetness to rival the now-banished snacks.

“We’re too cool for them anyways,” Eddie murmurs, pressing back more firmly.

Steve bites Eddie’s lip, drawing a gasp from him as the sensation shoots down his spine. “That’s a punishable offence, baby.”

 

 

Notes:

anyone who read my fic, In the Darkest Corner, may be surprised to see Andy's little cameo being surprisingly judgement free, but then this is a fic about all the little choices and changes that comes through the opportunity of time travel. and so, his interactions with Eddie may just give him a chance to be a better person 💚💫💚

Chapter 16: Mine

Summary:

Last chapter, Eddie has a short confrontation with Alex Carver and a suprisingly civil conversation with his teammate, Andy, during date night at the drive-through.

This chapter, Steve and Eddie are too busy in the back of the van to watch tonight's movie.

Notes:

this is the smut chapter, that's it. just pretty much smut. :) if it's not your bag you can read the last couple of paragraphs from this sentence to get the general idea ("Steve presses forward suddenly, releasing his possessive grip...")

cw: see the tags, lovelies. and I'll trust that if you don't like it then you're experienced or smart enough to skip or opt out <3

Eddie hums in pleasure in the middle of the van, pressing forward with a confident touch and licking past Steve’s lips like he’s already found a sweet replacement for their melted treats. He draws his legs over to straddle Steve, who automatically cups Eddie’s ass, pulling him in closer and grinding up against his heat.

Anticipation begins to build in the atmosphere and Eddie loses himself in the rich, velvety swirl of Steve’s mouth, time dripping syrupy slow as the two embrace. By the time the cartoon popcorn on the now playing screen instructs them to tune in through the radio band, Eddie’s lips are tingling and the rest of him isn’t far behind either.

Steve pulls back, his mouth a dewy, petal pink, and Eddie flashes to his earlier fantasy of Steve and the spoon. His breath hitches and he sways back into his space, falling forward as if inexorably drawn by a rope. Steve swallows, pulling back slightly. “You should turn on the stereo,” he says, voice full of gravel. The tinny sound of trailers playing across the lot sounds distant, another world Eddie has no interest in.

“Steve,” he says in a low voice, stretching forward to nibble at his bottom lip. A shuddered breath escapes him. “Wayne’s not here and I’d like to do more than watch the trailers.”

“More?” Steve exhales, breath catching as Eddie slides his hands under Steve’s shirt to caress his skin, threading his fingers through the arrow of hair below his belly button.

“More,” Eddie practically purrs, pressing his weight decidedly down on the steadily growing bulge under his ass. Steve’s stomach flinches under Eddie’s questing hands as they playfully tug at the edges of his belt.

Electricity crackles in the air while Steve’s gaze sharpens on Eddie. A quick flash of the screen behind them momentarily has his eyes flickering away, but they soon return with a sly heat. “But baby,” Steve says wickedly, “you already paid for your ticket.” Eddie swallows hard even as his heart starts to pound, uncertain but very interested in where this is going.

Steve smiles knowingly. “Wait here,” he commands and wriggles out from under Eddie to flick on the stereo, finding the theatre’s station. The sounds of a teen sloppily making out with his girlfriend fill the van, the wide screen panning before an open bedroom window.

Steve looks over his shoulder, a rough type of pleasure filling his expression when he sees that Eddie has followed his instructions, staying stock still on his knees and waiting for him to come back. He shuffles down, stacking the harder pillows until Steve’s made a sturdy wall that he can recline against, tugging Eddie around with his back against his chest, nestled into the hard heat between his hips and caged by thick thighs.

“Can you see the film, sweetheart?” Steve asks, breath hot in Eddie’s ear making him shiver along with the broad palms greedily running up and down Eddie’s jeans. The possessive movements coil the spring steadily tightening in his chest, pulling at his gut and building a thrumming heat in his groin.

The denim of his jeans constrains him cruelly against his growing hardness, and Steve’s big hands rubbing against the rough material almost make Eddie’s thighs look small in comparison. The contrast of it thrills him and he imagines Steve’s sports-roughened callouses catching on his bare skin, dragging in a subtle pain; the thought of it has him rocking back as his dick jerks hard in his pants.

Those fingers tighten; a sharp bite that brings Eddie’s attention back to Steve nudging at his cheek with a firm press of his jaw. “Eddie, baby. Are you watching the movie?” Eddie hazily looks up at the screen, he thinks the guy is writhing on top of his girlfriend, but he couldn't care less. “Sweetheart,” he gasps again at another squeeze; Steve starts to nibble at Eddie’s neck. “Who gives a fuck? Oh, right there.”

Steve smirks against the spot that has a direct line between Eddie’s neck and his dick. “You liked that? Well, you have to keep your eyes on the screen and tell me what’s going on. I’m a little busy right now, baby, help me out.” His sharp teeth scrape against sensitive skin and Eddie shivers as his arousal builds to a fire, almost blinding him but for his promise to Steve.

Eddie nods shakily, blinking back up at the bright lights in front of him: he can do that. As long as Steve keeps touching him, he’s sure that he can do anything. Steve makes a hungry sound against his skin and hitches up Eddie’s shirt to tug it over and off his head. His own quickly follows, the heat of his chest an inferno against Eddie’s back.

One heavy palm slides away from the precarious safety of Eddie’s pants to slide up the length of his torso, coming to rest delicately at the base of his throat. Eddie gasps at the hint of pressure, his dick throbbing at the barest idea of wanting more. Breath becoming shallow in anticipation, he leans forward, encouraging Steve to press harder, wanting him to bite into his skin in all ways.

The measured rhythm of Steve’s chest behind him stops, caught for a long second before a hard sigh is released. He presses close experimentally, not closing off Eddie’s airways so much as thumbs and fingers firmly bearing down on Eddie’s pulsing veins.

The feeling of being a restrained animal locks in around Eddie combined with a spreading trust that Steve has control over the keys to his cage. Like an unravelling marionette, the everyday strings that pull tightly at Eddie’s body dissolve, his body falling lax even as an underlying tension continues to drum through him, lighting through his veins with a crackling intensity.

At Eddie’s sighing surrender, Steve bucks reflexively, grinding up into him like he is compelled to; distantly he hears him curse around his heavy breathing, fingers clenching like Steve can’t help but press for more, demanding that Eddie give him more.

“Baby,” he hears Steve pant into his ear, “baby, are you still with me?”

He dreamily hums back, more concerned with getting Steve to continue moving. Eddie encloses his hand against the palm on his neck, pushing down, relishing the heavy solidity on his windpipe and the accompanying loss of air. He curves the other over Steve’s neck, trying to pull him closer. Urging him to do more.

Steve’s throat clicks as he roughly swallows, “Eddie, honey, I need you to do something for me, all right. You have to tell me that you’re okay.” Eddie moans, wishing there was more touching and fewer words. “Steve,” he barely avoids from whining his name. “I’m good, keep going.”

Steve’s voice roughens into gravel, his lips brushing against the curve of Eddie’s ear, “Okay, then you’re going to have to convince me. I’ll touch you, but only if you tell me what’s happening up on the screen. Come on, baby, be good for me.”

The coil tightens again, pulling Eddie’s distracted eyes up to the bright lights of the film. Steve’s encouragement tightens his focus. Eddie’s normally firm grip on the beast of envy and injustice inside him purrs at the changes; allowed to roam in the safety of Steve’s arms and instructions, giving Eddie a soaring freedom.

He wets his lips, trusting in the strength of the man wrapped around him, “They’re, uh, he’s watching another guy through his—” The sound of Eddie’s zipper being slowly lowered conspicuously fills the air.

“Through where, baby? Come on, you can do it,” Steve’s voice is cajoling, encouraging Eddie in a way that tightens his anticipation, helping him draw on reserves he didn’t know he had. All built for Steve, always for Steve. “He’s— he’s watching the other guy through his window,” he manages around his heaving chest.

Eddie hisses as Steve rewards him by pulling out his dick, pushing his pants and boxers under his ass. Eddie shuffles up to help and Steve’s fingers circle at the base of his hard shaft, squeezing soundly and sending a jolt of pride through him at having convinced Steve to finally touch him.

Steve pauses, hand clasped loosely around him while his little finger roughly brushes through the curls around his dick. Eddie shudders, swallowing and continues like he promised, “He’s—”

He stutters as Steve starts a slow, confident stroke upwards. “He’s watching the other guy in his bedroom, he’s got a naked chick in front— front—” Steve presses into the slit at the top of his head, encouraging a creamy bead forward and drawing away to smear the slick that feels like it’s pouring out of Eddie’s cock.

Steve pauses with him and Eddie doggedly continues, holding onto the edges pulling at him by a bare thread. “He’s gonna bite her, the guy is watching and she’s looking right back and him and oh—”

Eddie shudders as Steve resumes his steady rhythm, “Good boy, you’re doing so good.” Eddie moans as the words ripple through his body, a diffuse pleasure urging him to continue earning Steve’s praise.

The slick sound of Steve’s hand is just barely audible under the electronic strum of the soundtrack. The actor desperately flees into his bedroom and Steve stretches his other hand to cup Eddie’s balls, running his fingers down and knuckling just under to cause a deep bolt of pleasure to spiral up his spine.

He moans, head falling back on Steve’s broad shoulders and feels a grin against his skin before Steve licks up his neck, swallowing him down. Eddie’s toes curl. “Keep talking,” Steve murmurs darkly and Eddie shakily nods. The thrumming builds into a throbbing pulse, becoming stronger and thicker with every pounding of his heartbeat.

Eddie shudders around it, drawing in desperate air so that he can continue. “The vampire. He’s got him pinned against the wall, he’s pushing down on him, he’s going to— to—”

Steve sharply skims his teeth against Eddie's neck while squeezing firmly at the hollow of his windpipe. Eddie’s mouth falls open as he desperately struggles for air and the biting touch of Steve’s mouth radiates like a razor through him. Body arching at the exquisite pain, the coil within Eddie snaps, vision whitening and throat closing tight as his orgasm violently rips through him.

Gasping for breath and chest heaving, Eddie cries out in acute pleasure, his moans eked out into a desperate whine. Steve works him through his pulsing ecstasy, grinding against his back and breathing heavily, yet still encouraging Eddie in a low croon, “So good, baby. You’re doing so good.”

He hums sympathetically at Eddie’s sobs as he works over his sensitive dick, “I know. Just a little more, sweetheart.” He jerks in his arms, unable to take anymore, and Steve reluctantly releases him, gently tucking his softening cock down even as his clean hand continues to feverishly stroke up and down Eddie’s torso.

Oxygen floods back into Eddie’s system and a calming wave washes over him, the blurred haze of the van and parking lot regaining its sharp edges as he blinks, dazed and overwhelmed, faintly surprised at the strength of his reaction.

He becomes aware of Steve’s hands still feverishly palming him, touching and stroking any bare skin that he can lay claim to. But when Eddie looks back up in his eyes, despite the dark heat practically rolling off of him in waves, Steve retains a sliver of control.

It makes Eddie shiver, the power of it and it makes him salivate too: he wants his mouth on Steve, wants to push him down and take him into the warmth of his mouth and make him see stars like he’d done to Eddie. But when he thinks of shifting, he becomes aware of how very boneless he is, butter-soft and jelly-limbed.

He grins loopily up at Steve, “I want to do something with your bone, but I have none in me at the moment.”

Steve’s hands slow, the small circles he had been making with his hard dick against Eddie’s back likewise calming down. His lips twitch and a thread of amusement winds through his voice, “Okay, I think that’s it for now.”

Eddie squints up at him, the realisation that tonight is going to be all about Eddie sobering him a little. Steve takes care of him all the time and he deserves to be taken care of in return. Chagrin fills him for a moment until a wicked idea of his own pops into his head.

He smirks up at Steve’s suddenly cautious eyes, leaning his head back even as he draws Steve forward with an outreached palm against the back of his shoulder. He stretches, nibbling on the lobe of Steve’s ear in a way that has him shuddering and stroking his hands down the bare skin of his torso again. Eddie grins, whispering hotly, “Use me.”

He'd worried that he may have been unclear but by how Steve stiffens, he thinks he’s gotten the point across. Eddie shifts, pawing his way forward onto his hands and knees, but one arm is still hooked behind him, bringing Steve forward with him.

Steve hurriedly shifts his hands to Eddie's waist and gently guides him to lay face down, blanket under him and head pillowed on his arms with the lean length of Steve’s body pressed against him nearly head to toe. He hovers for a moment before Eddie turns his head to the side, catching his gaze while he presses his ass back, suggestively rubbing against Steve’s rigid length.

“Fuck,” Steve snarls, swiftly drawing back and the quick sounds of his belt clinking above Eddie. His boxers and jeans are tugged roughly from the middle of his thighs to well below his shins, but the still air feels reverent before two broad hands cup the sides of his ass, slowly kneading them worshipfully before pulling them apart. A thumb rubs against the delicate ridges of his hole, just enough to have Eddie moan quietly, almost twitching again.

A soft spitting sound echoes in the heat of the van before Eddie feels the warm splash of it between his cheeks. Steve lowers himself, shifting with him the smell of sweat and sex thick in the air as he settles one flexing forearm by Eddie’s head while the warmth of his body covers him like a blanket. Eddie feels his frame fall lax again, the weight of Steve folding him into a safe, secure place.

He can hear the rough sound of Steve’s harsh breaths before he rocks forward, slotting his cock against the crack of his ass and spreading his own leaking spend to create a slippery mess. The hungry movements of his hips, pressing and rubbing against his sensitive opening have Eddie sighing in pleasure; the feel of being useful, of being used, taking him away into a liquid sort of contentment, overflowing with satisfaction and pride.

He smiles a Cheshire grin and pushes back lightly, teasingly. Steve curses again, hip thrusting forward, strong and sure, jolting Eddie’s body in a timeless rhythm. “Eddie, baby. Look how good you’re taking it,” Steve groans, falling forward with one hand propping him up and the other tangling with Eddie’s fingers.

Eddie happily contemplates them, considers the small dusting of hair between his knuckles and the strength of his tendons and brings them to him, sucking Steve’s two middle fingers into the warm cavern of his mouth. Steve hisses above him like he’d swallowed his cock, he presses his forehead down, buried in Eddie’s neck, the sweat of his brow sliding between them. “Suck baby,” he hoarsely says, while pushing firmly down onto the velvet of Eddie’s tongue, “show me what you’d do with my cock in your mouth.”

Eddie moans, feeling surrounded above and now from within. Hallowing his cheeks he concentrates on laving the thick fingers inside him with devotion, swallowing the salt and musk, taking it inside himself to hold forever.

“Eddie,” Steve cries, moving faster now, the heat in the van and between their bodies creating a slick slide, a dirty roll of his hips ticking in time with the hot panting of his breath on Eddie’s neck. Eddie looks over his shoulder, catching the fathomlessly dark stare of Steve as he watches Eddie obediently take and worship the intrusion, the control he holds onto so dearly unravelling as neatly as the words that start to spill from his mouth, “You’re a dream, baby. Sweetheart, fuck, look at you. Look at your mouth.”

He tugs his fingers down again, causing Eddie to compulsively swallow, lips stretching. Hips thrusting, Steve continues feverishly, talking like he’ll die if he doesn’t say it, “Wide and full of life, words always spilling out of it, love always at the tip of it. I can never be alone when that mouth is around, Eddie. And they look wrecked baby, all wet and red.” The words of praise fill him as surely as the sun rising at dawn and Eddie’s eyes flutter in pleasure, moaning and vibrating around him.

Steve curses again, driving forward with breathless urgency, fucking against Eddie wildly until he lets out a hoarse, broken sound. Calling out his name, Steve moans roughly, the splash of his come spilling into the hollows of Eddie’s ass, grinding down and spreading the mess wetly in his aftershocks until falling forward onto his elbows, resting heavily against Eddie as trembling quakes run sporadically through him.

Eddin grins around the fingers still in his mouth, sucking up the mess with a last slurp and kissing the tips goodbye. Steve chuckles, blindly running his thumb over Eddie’s bottom lip before sliding over to his side, running his hand down Eddie’s spine but leaving the cold to hit his back. The shock of it on the mess of his ass has Eddie momentarily faltering. It feels a little gross; he wonders if it looks gross as he buries his head back into his arms.

Steve must see the tightening in his shoulders because he runs a gentle hand over them again, rolling closer to stroke from the nape of his neck to his tailbone. He leans in, kissing his shoulder once, then twice, dotting his spine with affection. “You’re so beautiful, Eddie,” he murmurs into his skin. Running a warm hand over the globes of Eddie’s ass before running the still-wet fingers through the crack.

Eddie shudders at how sensitive he feels and he looks back to see Steve’s intense concentration as he spreads his seed over Eddie’s skin in whirling patterns. “I wish you could see how pretty you look,” he murmurs, looking back up to Eddie. “Do you wish you could see?”

Eddie shakes his head, but the adoration on Steve’s face makes whatever had started to tighten release. “No. Just as long as you like it,” he says softly.

Steve leans forward suddenly, releasing his possessive grip to press a hard but chaste kiss against Eddie’s lips. “I do. You were so beautiful honey, and so good for me.” His eyes burn with a tempered desire and it helps to settle Eddie, making him grounded again. Steve presses another kiss to his cooling forehead, “You always look after me,” he says.

Eddie smiles wryly. “I just let you rub up on me is all,” he muses, feeling a little more clearheaded, “really, I made you do all the work.”

Steve hums appreciatively, pulling back to grab a thin blanket and wipe Eddie down. “I liked it.” Eddie rolls his head to watch him, intrigued at this glimpse into Steve’s desires. “I like making you feel good,” he admits. “I like that you let me.” A shade passes over Steve’s face, but he remains silent as he concentrates on his task.

Eddie shuffles onto his back and Steve helps pull his boxers and jeans up, both of them laughing at the struggle. Before Steve can sit upright, Eddie slings his arms over his shoulders, bringing him down and over him again, but this time face to face. He presses a tender kiss against his lips, and Steve automatically presses back with a smile. “You made me feel great,” Eddie says, “ten out of ten, would do it again. I may have to have the van enshrined somewhere because it is surely a place of worship now.”

Steve’s face lightens and he chuckles before nudging back into Eddie’s neck, dotting kisses against the blossoming bruises he had created earlier. “You’re such a dork.”

“But your dork,” Eddie says, his smile stretching broadly across his face.

Steve pauses before passionately pressing more kisses against his skin, making his way up to Eddie’s lips. His eyes are wide and open like a spring garden, brimming with abundance and life.

“Mine,” Steve reverently agrees.

 

 

Notes:

I am apparently unable to resist adding sweetness even when it's a chapter 99% full of smut

Chapter 17: The End Credits

Summary:

Last chapter, it was the movie night at the drive-through; the movie did not, in fact, get watched; and the boys had such a good time at the back of the van that Eddie declared it needed to be enshrined for future worship.

This chapter, they discuss some of the unexpected delights Eddie had discovered while they were together as well as an insight into past hurts for Steve.

Eddie contentedly yawns, stretching his arms above his head, the tips of his fingers running under the van roof as his joints pop. “I don’t want to drive home,” he complains for the hell of it.

Over the theatre’s radio band, a synth-wave tune pulses along with an attempt at eerie melodies, the title of the film repeated as a cheerful bop while the credits roll. His long hair flies backwards as his t-shirt hits him in the face. “Better than listening to this music,” Steve smirks, throwing the discarded spoons into his plastic bag.

Eddie pretends that the shirt has hit him hard and he careens—as much as one can while sitting on their butt—to fall heavily into Steve’s lap. Steve lets out an oof at the weight of his head, but Eddie sticks his tongue out. “Get used to the synth sensation of Fright Night, sweetheart, because we’re going to have to rent it again.”

Steve’s chuckles rumble through him. They had stirred apart earlier only to find that the film was already wrapping up, but Eddie thinks that tonight is more than worth the price of the ticket. He grins at making Steve laugh, continuing, “Though I’m not sure I’m ever going to be able to look at a vampire again without popping a boner, so thanks I guess?”

A thick finger slides its way down the middle of Eddie’s forehead, making his eyelashes flutter close at the calming sensation until it bops him on the nose. His eyes fly open, miffed as Steve smiles down at him. “You’re very agreeable after sex.”

Eddie’s sure that his eyes are bright and full of stars right now, doesn’t think he could contain them even if he tried. But he thinks he sees the same reflection in Steve’s gaze too, and it steadies something in him. The usual thrumming of his heart and mind settled by the anchor of Steve’s eyes on his face and hands on his chest.

“Is that my best feature then?” he asks impishly, recalling Steve’s fevered appreciation for his mouth earlier.

Steve slips his fingers down Eddie’s bare chest to briefly tickle his sides; he squeals, wiggling away until Steve stops, firmly running his palms down his skin to soothe away the sensitivity of his skin.

“No, that’s your eyes.”

Eddie blinks, screwing up his face. “What? That’s what you chose. Couldn’t you have picked my di—”

Steve clamps his hand over Eddie’s second best feature, the monster, amusement dancing across his face. “Your eyes,” he starts with slow deliberation, “are honest.”

Unimpressed with where this is going, Eddie simply raises his brows sceptically. Stave moves his fingers away, swiping the delicate skin under his lower lashes. It feels as tender as a butterfly’s kiss. “I know when you’re angry. I know if you’re happy. And I know when I do something that turns you on.”

Eddie’s breath catches at the sombreness of Steve’s voice, watching as his face twists a little in a reflective sadness. “I’m always worried, Eddie, that I’m too much or too little.”

Eddie frowns, an anger starting to stir in his gut. “No, baby,” Steve draws his fingers down, swiping his thumb over his cheekbones in comfort. “I don’t mean it to hurt you, I just… It makes me feel safe. That I can look at you and, for the most part, you’ll let me know where I stand.”

A tendril of doubt winds through him as Eddie wonders how much Steve truly sees. “What about before, when we— you know…” He waves his hand between them while trying to find the right words.

Outside, the end credits fade, leaving the screen and area around them in darkness. The sound of a lone car sedately driving past tells them that the parking lot is likely empty now.

Steve purses his lips thoughtfully, “When I thought you were telling me that you were straight and I ran for the hills?”

Eddie nods, watching self-deprecation fill Steve’s features, “I’m not sure if that encompasses it all, but yeah. We weren’t on the same page for a while there.”

“I was sad,” he admits, gaze intent on Eddie’s face. “In the forest, when you said you only wanted to be friends.”

Eddie’s eyes widen as he realises how Steve had taken his attempt at reassurance. “I was trying to make sure you didn’t feel weird in the one refuge you have while you’re here,” he says with regret.

“I’ve realised that now,” Steve’s thumb continues to stroke against Eddie softly, eyes still focused. “But I thought maybe you found me attractive, but that was it.” He sees the spark of hesitation and raises a haughty eyebrow, “You’re not subtle, Eddie. Do you really think I need to bend over for every speck on the floor; I vacuum near daily.”

Eddie blushes before deciding to style it out, “Well, I was clearly picking up what you were putting down.” Steve bops him on the nose again, but this time in retaliation.

“And then not only do I think that all you want is to be buddies, but I got jealous too.” His eyes shimmer with a hint of worry like Eddie’s going to retroactively dress him down for his possessive reaction. “I know you yack it up about Randy now, but all I could think back then was that here’s this guy I’m head over heels for and he’s out being macked on by some asshole who probably doesn’t even know his favourite dish.”

“Green pancakes,” Eddie interrupts because occasionally he is self-destructive and he’s enjoying Steve’s confession far too much to be seemly. Each word making the embers inside his chest glow brighter, encouraging the flicker of a coming flame.

“And,” Steve continues, eyeing him reprovingly until Eddie mimes zipping his lips shut,  “you didn’t even like or trust him enough to mention him to Wayne, so how good a guy could he be? How could I trust that he was treating you right? That you were safe.”

Eddie’s insides melt, warm and liquid, and leaving him just slightly confused about what he did so right in a past life to have someone like Steve care this deeply for him.

“But then Wayne…” Steve trails off, looking away as if he is frustrated with himself and picking at the edge of a blanket.

“Bought the Box of Doom,” Eddie concludes softly, tugging Steve’s restless hand into his to kiss the palm in apology. “I’m here, sweetheart. I’m yours.”

Steve cups his jaw, “Yeah, you are, aren’t you?” He says and Eddie’s breath catches, struck clear through by the wonderment shimmering across his eyes. Whoever knew that pale abandoned weirdo Eddie Munson would ever do anything to inspire a look like that.

“So, I got jealous,” Steve confirms, chagrined. “Jealous and a little out of my mind, and amidst all that confusion I misread what you were saying. Suddenly you running off after that time on the couch wasn’t just that you wanted nothing more than to be friends, but it was also me taking advantage of a situation you had no interest in.”

His face twists, “I felt like scum, to be honest.”

And that just won’t do, not in Eddie’s book or his heart; he propels up, twisting so he’s kneeling in front of Steve, hands heavy on his shoulders. “I’m sorry,” Eddie says sincerely, “I never wanted you to feel that way. Ever. I just…”

“Freaked out?” Steve asks.

“It’s what I do,” he admits with a half-smile aimed at his peculiarities.

Steve hums doubtfully, a frown starting to pull at his features, but Eddie doesn’t want to address his unfortunate ability to run and quickly asks about the other ember burning bright in his heart, “Head over heels, huh?”

A hint of a smile tugs at Steve’s lips but worry still sits on him like a heavy cloud and Eddie hears the echo of too much, too little. Yet, Steve doesn’t shy away from saying it and his courage in the face of his own fears fills Eddie with a fierce pride, ballooning out of him, pressing adoration keenly against his skin. “Yeah, ass over tit even,” he says.

The balloon pops in amusement and Eddie laughs, head falling back before he giddily springs forward, tackling Steve onto his back to bury his face between Steve’s tits, as it were, and blows a loud raspberry into his hirsute chest.

Steve giggles at the sensation and joy fills Eddie at the sound, fizzing like soda pop and he either has to squeal loudly or bite lest the top blow. He chooses the latter and Steve laughs as he dully chomps on his pec. “You are such a feral little cat,” Steve says with breathless amusement.

Eddie pushes back up, “Are you calling me a pu—” Steve stops him for the second time that night with a hand to the mouth and Eddie falls obediently silent, dropping into his palm in a nuzzling gesture since he’s already been accused of feline tendencies.

“You like that, huh?”

Eddie raises his eyebrows above his half-hidden face and Steve releases his mouth, eyes darkening slightly as he clarifies, “Before, when I told you what to do.” He slides his hand to press firmly down on what must be a magnificent bruise forming on his neck. Eddie shudders delightfully. “And some pain too?” Steve adds, expression pleased.

“Just a little,” Eddie says, a smile spreading at the appreciation on Steve’s face. “Like don’t whip me or anything, but a hard squeeze or bite, pressing down does it too. Holding me down is really, really nice,” he adds thoughtfully, struck once more on how the word says so little about that pleasant space he enters when Steve covers him in the weight of both his body and attention.

“Oh, we are definitely going to have to talk this through. And set up a communication system as well.” Steve’s gaze is almost hooded, and his voice is on the edge of gravelly again.

“A what?” Eddie asks confused, mind conjuring images of walkie-talkies and secret military ciphers.

“Like traffic light colours or tapping even,” Steve patiently explains. “It’ll help me check in whenever we’re having the type of fun where I want to make sure you’re still into it and happy: green is good, keep going; orange is slow down or let’s talk; and red is stop, no questions, no problems in asking for it, just stop.”

Eddie frowns, almost upset on Steve’s behalf. Out of anyone he’s ever known Steve is almost paranoidly set on making sure he’s clear on Eddie’s boundaries. “You’d never hurt me, Steve. It seems like a lot of fuss when I can just tell you no.”

“And you should if you ever need to,” Steve says, before sighing. “Just indulge me. Please? It’s not only for you, okay? It means that I can touch you and be confident that I know where you’re at. You were a little spacey back there.”

“Is that bad?” Eddie asks warily, not really wanting to find out that he’s more of a freak than the usual Hawkins brand.

Steve shakes his head enthusiastically, eyes flashing in arousal. “It was one of the hottest things I’d ever seen in my life. I nearly creamed my pants,” he promises, and Eddie feels a wash of relief. He preens a little, smiling back into Steve’s chest, “So, we can do it again?”

“Absolutely. But I’ll only touch the other stuff if you agree to a system, and to talking it out more, so I know what you’re into. I don’t want to assume it. Or what I’m into too,” he adds suddenly. “It’s not just about you. You might ask me to pee on you or something while giving me head and I have to tell you, baby, that’s a hard limit for me. No bueno.”

Eddie blows another raspberry onto his skin, “Did you even pass Spanish?”

“C plus all the way, honey pie.”

“Okay, you’re safe and I promise,” Eddie chuckles before squinting playfully at Steve, “though that sounds like a lot of hard-earned knowledge.”

“I told you I tried a few things out,” Steve shrugs with a mysterious smile, running a warm palm over Eddie’s hair. He pauses, “And…”

“And?” Eddie prompts.

“It’ll help me too if you tell me that you liked it.”

Eddie watches, amazed, as Steve—Steve-I-have-an-entire-sex-system-to-tell-me-how-hard-to-bite-you-and-I-casually-drop-watersports-into-the-conversation—blushes. He eyes Eddie warily like he’s afraid of being judged, but he mimes carefully zipping his lips again, waiting for him to continue.

Steve sighs, looking out into the dark drive-through, the twinkle of distant stars more present with the theatre lights switched off. “It’s not like I want to go into my history or anything…” Eddie leans in further, even more intrigued.

“But there was someone—before—that was really into pain and that in itself wasn’t bad, I like figuring out what makes people feel good and giving it to them. But I always sort of felt afterwards like I had been doing something wrong to them. Like I was bad. And it made me skittish about it all for a while there.”

Steve pauses to check whether Eddie’s still with him and he nods, trying to look supportive because he is but also sort of fascinated by getting this insight into Steve’s world.

“It wasn’t until I came across more, you know, experienced people that I realised that the responsibility goes both ways. So now I just… need to be told afterwards that I did good too. That I didn’t hurt you in any way that you didn’t want and that you enjoyed yourself.

"Not,” Steve adds hastily, “like I need you to tell me that I’m a sex god or even say something every time we fool around. But if I’m touching you in ways that technically hurt you I just want to know afterwards that you liked what happened, is all.”

“It’s trust, isn’t it,” Eddie suddenly understands, remembering the relief he’d felt at metaphorically handing the keys to his cage over to Steve, confident that he’d catch him if he stumbled and fell. “It’s for us both and because I was able to trust in your control, no matter how spacey I got. That’s what made it so good.”

Steve’s eyes warm and he strokes Eddie’s hair again as if rewarding him for passing a hard test, “See, you’re so smart, honey. That took me ages to figure out. It was Robin conking me on the head and talking it out with others that finally got me to work out why I felt so wrong.”

Eddie bites his lip as a stray thought worms its way nervously through him, “And it’s not a lot of work? I joked about it, but I really did just fucking lay there through most of it.”

Steve hums, looking up at the roof of the van as he tries to find the right words. His hands lower and sweep across the planes of Eddie’s back, absently offering comfort, before turning to him. “You enjoyed me telling you that you’d done a good job during it, right?” Steve guesses, and while Eddie might quibble over the term good job like Steve’s about to smack him on the ass after a successful ball game he does nod in agreement.

“It was like, if I stayed focused and kept describing what was happening on the screen, then I earned your hands on me. That I deserved to be touched by you. It felt pretty fucking great, to be honest.”

Steve’s eyes shine and Eddie realises that he’d honestly, if inadvertently fulfilled his earlier request by telling Steve that his actions had been welcome and good, and filled Eddie with a pleasure that he wants repeated.

His confidence rises a smidge: this may end up being something completely within his skill set after all because Eddie’s sure that he can compliment Steve until the cows come home. He has a lot of material to work with.

“I suppose I’m on the other side of the coin: I feel accomplished, but differently? Having you in my arms alone is sexy and really gets me going, but you letting me take care of you while you’re vulnerable…”

Steve’s eyes are sincere and full of affection, a rosy gold seeping through his words and voice. Eddie’s heart turns over, a hard thud that shakes the ground under him.

“It’s a gift, Eddie,” Steve continues, unaware of Eddie’s suddenly shaky equilibrium. “I don’t know if you realise it yet, but you’ve given me this beautiful present that only I get to enjoy.”

The shadows make themselves known again, crossing over Steve’s face like clouds falling in from a swift wind. “That is, I hope—” He frowns, muttering to himself, “this is harder than I remember.”

“What?” Eddie asks, feeling almost grave in his need for Steve to complete his sentence. He needs to be sure about whatever it is that Steve is hinting at because he can’t bear the thought that there’s anything between them that would make sadness spill like a terrible rain in this man.

Steve rolls his lips, a gesture usually made when he’s unsure about whether to say what he needs to. “I just realised that I assumed I’ll be the only one who gets to enjoy this. You said you hadn’t done much with others, but we never really discussed more than me being a hot guy in your bed that you can have some fun with.”

His eyes move between Eddie’s, fear flickering at the back and Eddie presses forward, hating that the emotion dare show itself in Steve, hating that he may have done anything to make Steve think he’d want anyone other than his golden boy.

“Steve,” he says seriously, holding his jaw and not letting him look away, “it’s only you. Never anyone else. You’re it for me.” His lashes flutter and Eddie’s not sure if he’s imagining the anxiety that continues to flicker deep within Steve, so he takes a figurative step back and deliberately tries to relax the tightness that has taken hold of his muscles.

He waggles his eyebrows, tapping lightly against Steve’s lips, “I know you’re not a big fan of labels, but be my boyfriend? You pretty much are in everything but name at this point, but I’d like to make it official.”

A whoosh of air rushes over Eddie’s finger like Steve had been holding his breath. But he smiles gingerly at Eddie. “I’d like that label,” he says, eyes bright once more, luminous in the dark of the van, sparkling through the cocoon they’d made for just the two of them.

The tension that had taken over his body dissolves and Eddie holds onto the moment, tucks it into his heart to pull out later and stare at it again, over and over until it becomes a worn photo in time, soft and glowing. Because Steve is looking at Eddie like he plucked the moon from the sky, just for him. Like Eddie is a precious being, gold and shiny and pure and it makes something hard inside him crack. Give clean away, leaving warm molten metal inside to reform into whatever creation he wants from it.

He opens his mouth to say something, needing to share how Steve makes him better, makes him want to be and do better, but is broken out of his newfound focus when a fist bangs on the side of the van, rattling the metal walls.

“Hey assholes,” a man’s voice shouts, “we need to lock the lot, get moving.”

Their eyes fly to each other in shock before giving way to giggles, Steve burying his face in his hands to stifle the sound, but Eddie suspects that any hope of pretending there was only one person in the van was probably shattered by its earlier rocking.

He snickers, deciding not to share that last part and scrambles to the front, pulling his shirt on and starting the engine with a rumble.

Steve settles behind the passenger seat again, humming along to I’ll Wait after he flips the radio over to cassette mode. A smattering of clouds sit far out on the horizon, but otherwise, Eddie enjoys the clear canvas of the night sky as he navigates them through the quiet streets. The air is sweet and dew-kissed, blowing his hair behind him as if he is flying high above.

The weightlessness stays with him as they settle into bed later, curling into each other and blocking out the world. It buoys him through his classes and is propelled higher when watching his boyfriend and uncle laugh together over Mork’s antics. It has him giggling as Steve makes him practise tapping green, orange, and red. And it fuels the fire that continues to melt that warm, molten metal inside him that Eddie is still shaping, forming it into a budding work of promise and potential.

 

 

Notes:

so guys, what I learned through writing this is that an alloy of copper and gold is in fact what we call rose gold. the colour that was *everywhere* a couple of years back and, coincidentally enough, my favourite metal to wear

also, Steve bopping Eddie on the nose is dedicated to The Great Tumblr Booping of April Fools 2024🐾😄

Chapter 18: Landslide

Summary:

Last chapter, Eddie and Steve discuss how control and vulnerability is something they desire in the bedroom, while Eddie asked Steve to be his boyfriend.

This chapter, Eddie is shocked to discover the consequences of his past actions have come back to haunt him.

Eddie stares at Miss Kelly in shock, the sound of the ceiling fan strikes an unfaltering beat above them. He feels time unwind unnaturally slowly, the light shining through the window into the counsellor’s office peculiar and intrusively cheery.

"Why wasn't I told earlier?" Eddie asks around clumsy lips; his entire body has been struck dumb, flayed open so suddenly and violently that the pain hasn't had time to reach his exposed nerves.

Her strong brows crease delicately, sympathy shimmering through her dark, almond eyes, "You were doing so well all of a sudden, Eddie. You were clearly putting in a lot of effort and it was paying off," she adds earnestly like the compliment will soothe the spreading sting, the sharpness of it needling away the numbness one stab at a time.

Miss Kelly rustles the papers in front of her on her ash wood desk, knocking the back of her hand against the sparkling container that holds a fistful of fluffy, colourful pens. She pulls out Eddie's transcript and in front of him he can see the consequences of his avoidance from fall through winter.

She's right: he may have been on the cusp of turning around his grades this past term, but he'd tanked hard enough early on that he'd thwarted his later hard work.

A mild surprise ticks at the back of his brain that she'd thought he could bring it around at all really. It lights a memory.

"This is why you kept trying to schedule meetings with me," Eddie says hollowly. She hums in affirmation and Eddie is once more struck by his ability to fuck up his life by giving into his instinct to run.

Because he'd had an inkling, hadn't he? A terrible growing feeling that struck absent notes of dread and shame if he lingered too long on the thought: I'm failing again.

Because if he didn't look at it, didn't acknowledge what was happening, then the year would proceed on as normal, he would scrape by and he would walk the stage, Wayne proud in the audience. Just keep the blinkers on and run forward, book it, but don't think too hard or the wall made of paper-thin cards will topple over.

What is Wayne going to think?

What is Steve going to think?

It was only two days ago that he’d asked Steve to be his boyfriend, and now he's instantly become a loser. The image of them standing together, terrible disappointment saturating their faces causes the bile in his stomach to churn, tip side to side as if a storm is tossing a dinghy in vast waters. The one thing he had promised to Wayne was to get his diploma.

Miss Kelly starts talking about options: taking the GED or entering a vocational program, even connecting him to local employers, which is pretty generous of her really, Eddie thinks as he gradually rises out of his paralysis. But he doesn’t want a minimum-wage job; he doesn’t want to work at the plant when he’s fifty, back bent and bringing in just enough, praying that the boiler doesn’t conk out during winter.

He looks past the curls on her head, the rays of light creating a suffused nimbus around her as she pulls out pamphlets. He’d never gotten around to getting the information packs for nursing school, reasoning that once he knew his grades that he’d be able to make his decisions then.

But now he has no decision to make, not one that he likes anyway. Because any decision feels like more failure, like falling down further into the pit, a shovel in his hands and preparing to dig further.

He thinks of Steve lying supine on the couch, thoughtful as he told Eddie that there is always a choice. He didn’t have to eat if he was hungry; break the cycle. But Eddie is starving. He’s been given a glimpse of so much more and he is hungry to take his chance for a better future.

“Let me take it again,” Eddie says loudly and abruptly.

Miss Kelly stops pointing to the inside of a glossy page, frowning and understandably unable to follow Eddie’s thoughts because even he acknowledges, in the desperation of this moment, that what he’s thinking is a little crazy.

“Let me do senior year again,” he asks. No, pleads.

Dismay fills her expression, and she opens her mouth with an added dollop of pity, but this time laced with the anguish of please don’t make me say it. But he will because he needs to fight for this, he will battle and brawl for the future he has resolved to see materialise.

“I know what I did,” Eddie says earnestly, leaning forward, all his focus on convincing this woman that he is worth another shot. “I fu— messed up. I really did, and it was because I was afraid and I wasn’t sure what I was doing and, to be honest, I didn’t want to be here.”

“Be that as it may, Eddie, that doesn’t mean you can simply keep coming back to high school.” She folds the pamphlet back up, stacking three together, obviously getting ready to shove them into his hands and shove Eddie out of her hands. He feels for her, he does. But he needs this more.

“You’re right,” he agrees, appealing to her better side. “But there’s no legal restriction, right?” She shakes her head with a subtle scepticism. “And I’m still technically a teenager, I will be for most of the next school year too.”

“Yes,” she admits with a sigh, leaning back into her chair, it bends back slightly at the pressure. “You will, but Eddie, it’s also putting in the resources too; I’ll be asking every one of your teachers to take on a student who has shown no sign of wanting to pass their class.”

“I’ll be just one more body in the room,” he says in an eleventh-hour plea, pulling out his last and desperate card, “and you said it, you saw a big improvement. It’s because I want something now and I can’t get it without a diploma. You saw. Look!”

He points at his transcript where the past term positively glows compared to the earlier year. “I can do it when I want to. And I really, really want to get my diploma, I have a plan and everything.”

He may not have the steps down pat, but Eddie knows that he wants to be a nurse. He knows he wants to go home to Steve after a shift and tell him how he saved the world one scrape at a time that day.

She wavers, looking down at his finger stabbing at the paper before sighing heavily, but Eddie fancies he hears acceptance in it. He crosses his toes, the terrible hope twisting through his limbs seizing his lungs and making it impossible to breathe.

“I’ll speak to Principal Higgins,” Miss Kelly says finally.

Eddie wheezes: he did it.

“He may say no,” she warns.

Eddie nods desperately, swinging his head up and down. It’s shameless of him, but he’ll do what he needs to do to make this happen, so he asks, “Please go to bat for me.”

Her eyes soften.

“I’ll make this worth your while,” he vows. “You’ll look back on this moment in years to come and say I gave that kid a chance and I was right to do it. I’m going to make something of my life, I promise.”

The fan above them continues its beat, gently ruffling Miss Kelly’s blouse but the sunshine no longer seems to pour so harshly from the outside. She smiles cautiously, “I hope so, Eddie. I want you to have the best possible chance of success in your life, and if you’re willing to fight for it then all the better.”

Being over the age limit, he doesn’t need Wayne as his guardian to sign off on his report cards or the notification of his failure to complete. He hadn’t last year either and the only motivation to tell Wayne had been that his uncle is a smart man, and he hadn’t wanted to put him in the position to have to ask Eddie what was going on as everyone else walked the stage while Eddie hid in his bedroom.

He thanks Miss Kelly, profusely and with great vigour. Genuinely because she is taking a risk when she doesn’t need to: her reputation as a logical woman and professional counsellor on the line by asking the teachers and principal to take in Eddie Munson for the third time.

But also because a faintly calculating part of him wants to impart to her that her next actions will determine his future, a potential saviour with cold judgment in one hand or liberating grace in the other.

“Why not the GED?” she asks as he turns the knob on the door, the colourful bodies of students flowing past the frosted window.

He thinks about it carefully before responding, wanting to show her the same respect she’s given him. “I think I need the structure, weirdly enough,” Eddie admits, meeting her gaze with a rueful shrug. “I’ve railed against the system so much…” and he holds to that, he does. The school system is set up to edge out anyone who doesn’t think in the exact same way as the majority, alienating the outsiders and stamping down hard on creativity.

“But having a set time I need to roll out of bed, get to class, make myself listen,” he adds with humour, “it helps.” He can feel the shadow cross his face even as he says, “I just get overwhelmed sometimes and I run rather than stop and do something about it.”

“Okay,” Miss Kelly nods carefully, an open-hearted shrewdness running through her eyes. Eddie is reminded that she does this for a living and is practised at wrangling recalcitrant students. “Maybe next year we can sit down, set some plans in place. Even meet up every now and then to make sure that you’re keeping on top of everything.”

“That’d be good,” Eddie agrees and is only mildly surprised to realise that he means it. He nods to her in thanks one last time before leaving, there’s no point in attending any of the wrap-up classes for the final week and he’s got to prepare himself to go home.

But he does mean it, an appreciation filling his chest as he turns the key in the van, turning the corner onto the main road even as he heads to the quarry rather than straight home.

Continues to ponder it in the front seat while parked, looking out onto the green waters surrounded by ashy rocks. The dreamy lilt from the stereo lends an edge of unreality to the empty landscape Eddie absently contemplates.

He lets the smoke of the cigarette between his fingers fill his lungs, expanding in a familiar, measured rhythm of inhale, pause, exhale. It’s not quite the ten-second countdown he makes when angry, but it’s comforting and the nicotine soothes the anxious buzzing in his brain.

Wayne had taught him the breathing exercise when he’d been skinny and angry, blindly lashing out. He likes to imagine these days that it was the one conversation that had turned him around, the one line where Wayne told Eddie that he was kinder, better than his violent, irresponsible father. But it’d been so many talks, Eddie thinks, ashing the cigarette through the open window.

It had taken Wayne time and patience to get through to his younger self, to penetrate the fog and rewire a lot of the ideas he’d come to rely on as an unbending truth: Eddie was bad, he was useless, he deserved to feel those ways, deserved to be abandoned because all fathers love their children so the broken, jagged fault line must fracture through Eddie, not Bobby Munson.

The cassette playing softly shifts into the more upbeat track of World Turning and Eddie leans forward, pressing the rewind button to replay Landslide.

In her velvet rough voice Stevie Nicks croons I’ve been afraid of changing / ‘cause I’ve built my life around you. His free hand, resting on the curve of the steering wheel clenches, knuckles turning white. Furious with himself because he’s still letting it happen: he keeps treating his life like it’s disposable.

Disappointed because no matter how he has tried to fill his life with good friends and good family — diving into the games and stories and music that make him happy, there’s still a part of his brain trying to pull him down into the mire that he'd once thought he deserved.

Because that’s the thing: he doesn’t believe it anymore. It’s his father that is the fuck-up, not Eddie.

What grown adult can’t show compassion and kindness to a child, even if they couldn’t love them? It’s Bobby Munson who is broken not Eddie, but there is that poisonous tendril that still twines around his ankles every now and then, tripping him when he’s not looking. Causing him to stumble abruptly and violently like smashing his nose into a brick wall.

Stevie laments that she’s getting older and Eddie shatters. The fault line he thought he had filled with the rich soil of good friends, good family, good life breaking apart once more, exposing the rough, barren earth underneath it, only fit to mine for fragile, tarnished copper.

Tears run down his face, building to the edge of his jaw to fall away at the shudders that run through his body. The fragile, soft metal of it is nothing compared to the iron of his uncle, the gold of the boy waiting for him back at home.

He cries. Great, heaving sobs that wrack his frame, exposing his vulnerable insides like an umbrella flipped about from violent winds. With shaking hands, he rewinds the tape once more, needing to hear her say it again, needs to hear the grief that matches his own. Yet her voice fades even as it rises into the chorus and Eddie’s tears eventually fade too, his body wrung out and dry, unable to sustain the storm that had consumed him and leaving him almost numb, staring blankly at the damaged rubble of the quarry.

This time, when Stevie Nicks sings that even children get older the words catch in Eddie’s brain, a soft wool snagged on a callous.

He is not that child anymore, he thinks tiredly, he has gotten older. He’s seen his reflection in the snow-covered hills, the body stuck on the frozen peak and ice wrapped around his feet; all of it planting him in the past. But a landslide has brought him tumbling down from that hill; he stands now on new land, fresh earth that he can build on. Maybe the fracture will always be there, but Eddie is more than one jagged crevice.

He has another chance; the reminder of it steadying the feet under him. He is not dead, nor is he irredeemable; life keeps moving and with it inevitable change. Change means risk, but it also means possibility. Prospects that he can transform into a rich, full life and the fracture will always be there but he will get bigger, Eddie decides, despair giving way to a tentative hope: he can grow tall and strong and when that fracture shakes and rumbles he will step over it, leaving it to crumble alone.

For now though, he reflects as he turns the key to start the van, the engine turning over with a rough rumble, he really needs a nap. He wants to curl up under the comforting heat of the blankets and have the weight of Steve wrap around him, ground him and keep him from floating away to the top of that icy hill again.

The drive passes in a blur, the green and greys of the roadside slipping past in a manner that tells Eddie he may be too tired to safely drive. But he reaches the gravel outside the trailer in one piece and feels the muscles at the back of his neck unclench; the need to rest his head is almost overwhelming. He thinks he’ll tell Steve later, just ask him to hold him for now because he doesn’t have the energy to explain it all.

The screen door slaps behind Eddie as he enters the living area; Steve pops up from behind the kitchen cupboards with a green screwdriver in hand. He has an easy smile on his face, an air of satisfaction that often surrounds him when he’s cleaned or fixed something about the house.

He rounds the counter to approach Eddie who still stands by the door; seeing Steve gives him a deep sense of relief that he hadn’t realised he had been waiting on.

“Hey babe,” Steve starts cheerfully, “I finally got to that hinge—” He falters, frowning as he takes in Eddie’s bloodshot eyes and red nose, the sadness that still hangs around him like a shroud. “Baby, what happ—”

The screwdriver soundlessly bounces on the carpet as Steve blinks out of existence. One moment there and the next gone. No rippling like a TV flashback or a portal for Heinlen’s Bob, just complete absence like he never existed.

Eddie stumbles to the couch, letting the weakness in his knees give way to collapse on the seat, elbows on his thighs to support his heavy head and palms buried into aching eyes.

He doesn’t know how long he sits there, concentrating on his breathing—inhale, pause, exhale—before he hears the squeak and bang of the screen door. His uncle’s heavy tread approaches Eddie.

“Eds?” Wayne’s deep voice rumbles above him. “What’s wrong?”

Eddie contemplates the darkness before answering with the least important fact first, “I’m not getting my diploma this year.”

The couch dips next to him, Wayne leaning his body to wrap an arm around Eddie’s shoulder, bringing him into the warmth of his body and the familiarity of tabacco and the leather notes of his faded aftershave. Eddie takes a deep breath, almost shuddering but his voice remains clear, “Steve’s left too.”

Wayne’s arm tightens, his voice hardening, “He left you?” Suddenly Eddie realises what that sounded like.

“Not on purpose,” he says flatly, what little resources he has rapidly fading. “Never on purpose. But he’s gone for now.”

Wayne sighs, the tension that had briefly tightened his muscles giving way and he drapes his other arm around Eddie, pulling him into his embrace, steady and rock solid as ever. Softly he reassures him, “He always comes back, son.”

Eddie just nods, holding onto that hope. Unable to even touch what ifs. For a long time after that, he stays hidden within his uncle’s sturdy and stalwart protection.

 

 

Notes:

I think that we sometimes believe we have no choice but to pick ourselves up, dust off our knees and keep going. but making that choice takes bravery, and continuing to make that choice requires perseverance

and so, this chapter is for anyone that's stumbled and fallen, but chosen to stand back up xx

Chapter 19: Corporate Sea Shanty

Summary:

Last chapter, Eddie found out he failed to graduate again, but he negotiated the opportunity to do senior year for the third time. Confronting how he had sabotaged himself, Eddie finds some measure of peace before Steve blipped out of time once more.

This chapter, it's the summer of '85 and Eddie misses Steve fiercely, making it all the more harder when he comes across Scoops Steve from the present.

Summer 1985

Eddie bets that Steve’s a big fan of Summer of ’69. He privately wagers on it while wiping the beads of sweat off his brow, tempted to stick his head out the van’s window as he barrels down River Road.

The lyrics are meaningful, a deep reflection on the broken dreams and regrets of naive, innocent youth. But it’s also just really a catchy tune and he can almost see the bronze of his head happily banging in the empty seat next to him.

He can also imagine, if Eddie puts his mind to it, the disdain in Steve’s voice as he complains about the lack of proper air conditioning in the van, while the back of his own bare thighs stick uncomfortably to the vinyl of the van’s seats.

All the better to see you with my dear, Eddie pretends to leer at the imaginary Steve in his head.

He sighs at himself. It's been six weeks since he saw his time travelling boyfriend blip out of the trailer; between that and the goddamn heat, he's officially going crazy.

Despite his cutoff jeans and cut-up shirt that hangs low down the sides of his torso, Eddie’s not sure that as Hawkins reaches the end of its first month of summer that the town hasn’t in fact descended to nestle itself amongst Satan’s balls.

Maybe that’s who the big bad is in Steve’s future: Satan descends, pissed off at little old Hawkins for poking where it shouldn’t.

Eddie groans: he is going crazy.

Making a traitorous decision he flicks on his indicator and heads in the opposite direction, resolutely ignoring Wayne’s disappointed face hovering at the back of his mind. Or, at least how he imagines it’d look if his uncle hadn’t made a point to swallow his disappointment lately. Hiding behind an impassive face that first time as Eddie confessed his sins, explaining that he won’t walk the stage this year either. It’s about as close to a God-fearing Catholic as he’ll ever get, Eddie figures.

Wayne’s lack of expression had likely also hidden his scepticism while Eddie outlined his plans to repeat senior year for the third time. It’s not that Wayne doesn’t love him or want to believe in him, Eddie knows. But after two years of failing to get his diploma, he understands why Wayne may not allow himself to believe that Eddie will do it next year either.

But he will. He knows he can do it and he is invested now in a way that he hasn’t been since art time during fourth grade. Nothing is going to stop Eddie Munson from graduating in the spring of 1986, it’s going to be his year.

Traffic thickens as he joins the slew of other Hawkins residents who’ve likely had the same brainwave as Eddie. The roads had been bare when heading back from Reefer Ricks to top up his goodies. While summer raged and so too did the parties of bored, pent-up teenagers, Eddie had been making bank. He’s visited a couple to sell at but also made the rounds amongst his regulars.

Eddie still doesn’t like strangers coming to the trailer, but he’s permitted friends of friends to come during the work week. They’re practically vouched for, and Wayne won’t be there, so all the better. But he’s sitting comfortably on enough cash to put some away for school or emergency utilities, if it comes down to it, and give himself a little treat.

A devil sits on his shoulder as he pulls up into the vast parking lot, the stretch of asphalt almost rivalling the massive, new mall soaring above him. On his other is a miniature Wayne, salt and pepper whiskers grown to resemble a Marxist bushiness, puffing on a mahogany pipe and condemning the capitalist class who are deliberately and with maliciousness driving Hawkins’ small businesses to ruin.

Eddie slams the van door shut and promises to rent Rocky tonight from Family Video. Patronising local business for his favourite film has miniature Wayne reluctantly falling silent, puffing away at his tobacco.

One step past the electronic doors of Starcourt Mall and the sensation hits him like a blessed waterfall: a shimmering curtain of airconditioned air that purges Eddie of all evils, cleansing his soul and clearing his skin — he is reborn a new man. He stands with arms spread, taking in the rainbow of colours sparkling across his newfound promised land, the thunderous cacophony like water crashing onto rocks and the taste of pure, crisp air on his tongue.

That is until an older lady in a pastel pink tracksuit smacks into him while staring at a display in the opposite direction. “Watch it,” she scowls before sniffing to her friend in her matching turquoise suit; they powerwalk away into the crowd.

Like fragile glass smashed to the hard ground, the mirage shatters.

The gentle rainbow transforms into a mix of riotous colours puked up to grab the smallest of attention spans, the melody of life unfolding into the roar of too many people and stores trying to outcompete each other with their musical soundscapes. Eddie sighs mournfully, he heard there’s a Sam Goody here, maybe they’ll have a bigger selection than Hawkins Records.

The light bop that is supposed to be the rock music of Dire Straits playing over the store’s speakers has him rolling his eyes, as does the neon pink and blue lighting, but Goody’s has a deep container of patches that Eddie is delighted to find. Iron Maiden’s not his favourite but he can’t resist the round patch of their mascot, snickering to himself at an Eddie wearing the Eddie. He also snatches up a woven VH with a neon rainbow embroidered behind it; Steve’s going to pop a non-existent stitch when he sees this bad boy sewn onto his denim vest.

Eddie had decided that his summer is going to be distractingly productive. Part of that had been paying attention to cultivating business, squirrelling away money for his future education. Another part had been preparing for the year ahead.

He had made himself sit down and actually read The Great Gatsby this time rather than skim through it, sure in his prediction that it’d be on Mr Bower’s syllabus again. Randy had agreed to help him in a month or so to strengthen his math skills and Jeff is willing to lend a hand with biology since he’ll be in senior year this time too. Other than the latter, which he’d chosen to bolster for his record to send in for nursing school applications, his game plan is to take the exact same classes as last year and muscle his way into passing through sheer momentum.

But it is the denim vest that has become his summer baby, his golden child. A little reward after doing his work. So far, he’d retrimmed the jagged cut-out armholes, sewing a cool little zigzag onto the edges. He’s waiting until he has enough patches before deciding where each would sit but had started sewing one of the two inside pockets already.

However, the pièce de resistance are the two patterns he’d personally designed and sewn onto the bottom of the button plackets at the edge of his vest. It had taken him two weeks to practise the stitching on spare material and then finally embroider it onto the denim.

If his vest is closed, the left side at the bottom of the placket shows a small, grey cocoon breaking open with a spindly black leg emerging. Underneath it on the right side, and shown when Eddie wears the vest undone, is a butterfly, its wings spread in glorious flight in a burst of orange and black.

Eddie can almost hear Steve’s snort of laughter when he finally gets to show him. Or he’ll tear up, Eddie thinks with a private smile as he turns away from paying for his new treasures. Steve can be surprisingly sensitive to the small things; it’s what makes him the romantic that he pretends not to be.

Eddie stuffs his free hand into his pocket while seemingly contemplating an Independence Day display; the red, white, and blue decorations violently competing for his attention. But in actuality, mulling on the first of Steve’s visits when he’d caught a quick glimpse of the pain showing on his face as he’d walked away from Dustin. How surprised Eddie would have been then to know the extent of the deep river of emotion and self-imposed responsibility that runs under the carefree surface that Steve likes to project.

Might have helped him to navigate the slippery little sucker better when he’d had a concussion though. But the bimmer had been a dream to drive, he thinks as he passes an ice cream store.

The reminder of a nice airconditioned car versus the hot box of steel and vinyl he’s heading towards convinces Eddie that Scoops Ahoy will be his last stop before he leaves to hire Rocky. Fright Night came out last week and Eddie’s tempted to rent it while Steve’s away, since he’s not sure he’ll ever be able to get past the first third of the movie again without jumping him.

The patriotic colours of the display next door have exploded in the little store, becoming an almost overwhelming ambience of nautical-themed shanty tunes, floor and wall colours and decals decorations, and—by the unfortunately clad girl behind the counter—sailor uniforms. The swinging of her dark blonde hair matches her efficient moves as she turns between slinging ice cream and collecting payment.

Her face screws up in annoyance as Eddie walks in. He hopes it’s not personal as she turns her back on the waiting customers, yelling for Gus to get his butt out here. She looks vaguely familiar; he thinks she’s from band, but music class is one of the few that he’s a fairly cooperative student in so hopefully she doesn’t have completely bad memories of him.

He feels for her; having to be stuck in the jaunty hell of the muzak piping in over the burst of laughter and over-excited chatter in the full booths behind him would drive him crazy too. The speakers trill with a particularly soulless melody as her coworker walks out from the back with a giant tub of ice cream to replace the—Eddie squints—USS Butterscotch.

Really delving deep into the nautical motif, he thinks with a sneer for corporate America.

Glancing up, Eddie feels all the blood in his face drain to his feet because for a moment—for the briefest, tiniest second—a burst of knee-weakening relief had exploded through him that Steve is back. For some reason, striding through the saloon doors of an ice cream store to do so, but he is here.

But then Eddie takes in his uncertain expression as he stares back at him. The first thing Steve must have seen walking through the doors is Eddie’s sneer because he’s faltered, taking a half step back and looking at him like he doesn’t know what to say. His startlement lasts only for a moment before any hint of friendly welcome falls away behind a shuttered expression.

The look is so wrong on Steve’s face that it forces Eddie to look away from those usually warm and affectionate hazel eyes and the familiar, strong bridge of his nose, to take in the blue and white sailors’ outfit that he wears, complete with a dixie cup hat dandily perched over his bouffant hair.

The relief shrivels and falls meanly at his feet, the wet splat of his heart striking the ground almost audible. Eddie swallows his disappointment and quickly looks away, staring blindly up at the menu backlit by fluorescents to take a moment and collect himself: this is Present Steve, not his Steve. Not someone he can kiss and welcome back like the returning sailor that he currently resembles.

It’s been easy to avoid Present Steve since school ended. But this glimpse of the man that he misses as keenly as a cut-off limb, appearing before him after over a month without him, feels cruel.

It makes that jagged crevice rumble.

He swallows the emotion down, hard. Pushing it into the acid of his stomach to be consumed and safely dispersed into his bloodstream, because there is absolutely nothing Eddie can do that’s going to make him feel better about this. He’s going to get his ice cream and get out.

Blankly yet mind still chanting Steve Steve Steve, he joins the line. Forgets to even pretend to pick a flavour, too busy weighing the likelihood that he’ll be served by band chick and trying to work out whether it’ll be better or worse if that’s not the case.

The three girls in front of him burst into laughter, all bright clothes and hair at heights to rival Steve’s. He blinks as they scamper away in a cloud of perfume, leaving him standing in front of Steve, consternation plain on his face.

Ah, Eddie wonders whether he would rather be flirting with the babes that just left. Steve had been clear that in the year before he travelled back in time, he’d had his fair share of fun.

Eddie’s stomach twists at the thought. Which is unfair to him. Because he’d had no problem with his Steve telling him about his past, but having to observe it in real time feels vastly different. Watching Steve’s eyes narrow suspiciously the twist becomes a knot, the tendons in his body pulling it tight, filling and rising in his torso like a pressure cooker.

Eddie struggles to think of what he should say to someone who is so heartbreakingly familiar, but out of reach. Someone who doesn’t even really know him yet. High school, he grasps onto the thought like a drowning swimmer. They still have that in common.

He styles out the tension filling him with a wide smile, casually resting an arm on the sticky counter and instantly regretting it. “Ah, King Steve, you’ve left the wild halls of Hawkins, but you’re still charming the ladies.”

If anything, Steve’s demeanour closes off further, his voice positively coated in ice. “What can I get you, Munson?”

Eddie panics, he hasn’t seen Steve this cold since he’d slammed a box of condoms down on their kitchen counter. His smile freezes in place, refusing to drop and show the deep disappointment filling him and likely making him look like a complete and utter loon. Desperately Eddie searches the freezer until inspiration strikes.

He shifts, peeling his arm off the counter to spread his palms down and lean into the sliver of space that separates them, grinning with wide eyes. “Well, sweetheart, I’ll have what can only be described as an ice cream’s favourite movie…”

He pauses dramatically, the wild urge to giggle filling his throat but he pushes it down into the rising anxiety in his chest and waggles his eyebrows, inviting Steve into the joke. But Steve’s frowning, an adorable little crinkle of his brow, and Eddie’s not sure if it’s in confusion or because Eddie has completely lost his mind.

“I don’t know, what is an ice cream’s favourite movie?” Steve asks slowly, his eyebrow raising with a hint of amused condescension.

Eddie points to the dark chocolatey swirl dotted with marshmallows and nuts, “Rocky Road, of course!” He hears the echo of his words seconds after he’s said it and wishes that he’d just brutally drown in the ice cream treat instead.

The tension that had been violently boiling in his body finally releases into a stream of giggles. Steve blinks at his outburst and Eddie slaps a hand over his mouth, horrified. But this only makes the situation even more ridiculous to him and he bursts into honest laughter this time. And Steve must be just as confused by his outburst because his gaze is locked on Eddie’s lips in what Eddie can only imagine is mortification for his former classmate.

He vaguely hears a girl’s voice call his name to their left and he sees that band chick has already scooped a single scoop of rocky road for Eddie. “Dollar twenty five,” she demands impatiently, flicking an enigmatic look at Steve.

Eddie can’t look at him because he’s pretty sure he’s going to burst into giggles again if he does and he’s not sure he’ll survive the humiliation. He nods eagerly, digging into his pocket and pulling out the wallet that he should have prepared before approaching the counter. He hears someone sigh behind him, and Eddie swiftly pulls out the required change and dumps it in her waiting palm, swiping the cone from the other.

Except that in his haste, the cone nearly tilts over, tipping in slow motion and about to splat onto the raised glass display case. It doesn’t by the bare grace of Steve, who springs into action and jumps forward to stabilise it, wrapping his fist around Eddie’s. The skin of his hand is a scalding heat and Eddie’s stupid, awful traitor of a mouth falls open again, “What can I say,” he winks into Steve’s increasingly amused face, “I’ve a got a soft spot for ice cream puns — they really churn my day around.”

Steve’s practically holding his hand now, the both of them meeting in the middle with their arms raised like a cathedral peak. He slowly smirks at Eddie, “We all scream for ice cream.”

Steve's thumb moves in what might be described as a caress against his hand and all of a sudden it’s Eddie’s Steve standing in front of him, possibly, maybe flirting with him and he needs to back away right now because Eddie's half a second from flirting back and that is not allowed.

He scrambles away, the ice cream cone nearly flying to hit him in the forehead, but he stops it at the last minute with a half laugh, “Yup, that’s it. Anyway! Thanks!” Steve’s mouth starts to open but Eddie pivots on the spot and books it, not quite at a run but certainly above a scurry.

It’s not until he’s halfway across the mall that Eddie’s thudding heart starts to slow. He looks down at the rivers of ice cream about to fall about his wrist and throws it into a nearby trashcan, not even able to enjoy his ill-gotten gains since it’s chocolate.

He runs his clean hand over his face in a rough gesture designed to slap him out of the fugue state of panic that had taken over him: that was a fucking disaster.

 

 

Notes:

this was one of my first drafted scenes and it only took (checks notes) 19 chapters to get here 😅

Chapter 20: The Rocky Sequel

Summary:

Last chapter, panicked by the unexpected appearance of Present Steve, Eddie embarassed himself with deeply unfunny puns while ordering ice cream he couldn't even eat.

This chapter, worried that he had upset the timeline by scaring Steve off, Eddie resolves to do better and gets to meet Steve's Robin in the process.

Eddie stares blankly at the bulky television; cross-legged behind the coffee table while the needle and thread between his fingers remain unused in the hands resting slackly in his lap. Wayne sits comfortably settled in the corner armchair while Eye of the Tiger triumphantly sounds through the trailer.

Oblivious to the boxers on the screen, Eddie mentally replays the amusement that had steadily filled Steve’s face over the Scoops’ counter, the bitchy little condescension that Eddie's missed along with the sweetness that is just as much a part of him.

But he’s also stuck on one other thought: what if Eddie shoved his big fat foot in his mouth only to take it out and stomp it on a butterfly?

What if Steve thinks he’s this weird little guy now, some sort of gremlin freak who scurries in and out of ice cream stores? A person to avoid at all costs.

Maybe that hadn’t been the hint of flirting over the glass counter, but Steve subtly trying to guide him bodily away via thumb, an instinctive push born of deep discomfort at the tiny, little guy being weird—so weird—in front of him.

Eddie should have worn his leather jacket, dying of heat stroke be damned. Then at least he would have been a weird big guy. He can embrace being the oddball, but only when he’s the one pushing the narrative. Who wants to be a gremlin full of deeply unfunny puns and little?

He groans, head falling back in dismay as he realises that he hadn’t even been wearing his rings or bracelets either. The sticky heat had put him off from wearing even the slim weights.

He’d been unfunny, little, and without even a hint of coolness about him.

Steve is definitely going to avoid him in the future.

“Eddie, what the hell are you doing over there?”

Hands bunched in his hair as they fruitlessly tug, Eddie turns his head towards his uncle who’s frowning down at him in concern. In the background, the crowd cheers as Apollo dances around Rocky. “We need to move to Hawaii.”

A woman dressed and painted head-to-toe in silver passes serenely past the boxing ring, flashing the number for the next round before the duelling boxers continue to grapple against each other. Wayne’s eyes flick to the screen for a moment, distracted before settling back on Eddie who is packing up his new sewing kit. “Say again?”

Eddie nods decisively, this is the plan. “Hawaii, it’s full of…” He waves a hand in the air, wildly trying to remember something about the state. “Coconuts, right? You love macaroons. You’ll be rolling in them, Uncle Wayne. Coconuts as far as the eye can see.”

Wayne eyes him for a moment, eyes flickering over him as if deciding whether this is a breakdown that he needs to take part in. Apparently, he passes muster because Wayne simply nods before turning back to the screen, “Okay, get on that then.”

Eddie scowls, slinking away into his bedroom. The sound of Stallone crying out for Adrian at his back. He carefully hangs his denim vest over the chair and stores the kit next to his paint pots on the desk. His eye catches on the shallow bowl he keeps his jewellery in and a plan begins to form.

It’s the next day at noon—not morning as he’d been half-convinced to start—that Eddie puts his strategy in place. He’s wearing a similar outfit to yesterday, still casual cut-off jeans and a cut-up shirt, strategically leaving glimpses of his skin through the clothes.

He knows that Steve likes his chest and hips, and loves running his hands down the sides of his torso, so the extra dip to the arm holes is only to Eddie’s advantage. And the same outfit is going to sell that he’s not desperate. He’s going to look effortlessly cool with his silver chunky rings and black leather bracelets.

He opts for a lot of the thinner bands bunched together for the latter because he’s not sure he’ll survive the sensory hell of sticky clammy heat combined with wide leather straps. And decides on no eyeliner, despite the temptation; otherwise, he’ll look like a racoon by the time he makes it from the van to inside the mall.

Slipping on his rings and eyeing the waves of his long dark hair, Eddie mulls on his next move: down is metal but a loose bun will show off his neck.

Thinking of Steve’s preoccupation with his neck at the back of the van, Eddie draws up his hair. Pulling a few tendrils down to frame his face and suggestively cascade down his neck, he reminds himself that this has nothing to do with attracting Steve. This is just a strategic redo so that he won’t avoid him in the future.

Eddie’s about to walk out of the trailer when he darts back one last time, scooping up the black, patterned bandana he’d forgotten. Stuffing it triumphantly into his right back pocket, so it casually spills out of his jeans, Eddie thinks that there’s nothing little about a metal dude wearing bone-white skulls.

He reminds himself again as he takes in the crowd on the escalator, nodding in satisfaction that the lunch rush seems to have died down as he’d planned. There’s no point in arriving just to see Steve for two point five seconds only to then be shuffled out for the next customer. The idea is to keep the timeline on track.

Steve said that they become friendly later on and that’s not going to happen if his future-past-self avoids Eddie because ew no that weird little guy gave me a hard time when I was just trying to make a buck.

Eddie is clearly mixed up with what happens in the future. He can tell by the way that Steve sometimes avoids ending certain sentences, and the fact that the time portal is in Eddie’s trailer is fairly condemning. So, he has to get the timeline back onto its original path and make sure that Steve still has access to Eddie’s place in the future.

Striding confidently into Scoops, he repeats his plan to himself: he’s going to slide in and be a bit cooler, a little less manic, and slide back out, ice cream in hand with his dignity and image as a friendly, approachable guy intact.

The nautical theme is just as nauseating today as is the endless shanty melody, and the same girl from earlier stands behind the counter. Except for a young couple dopily sharing a strawberry milkshake in one booth the store is empty and she’s leaning over the bench, elbows propping her up and filing away at her silver-polished nails.

Like Eddie, she’s also wearing leather and silver bracelets with slimmer, more feminine versions of his own rings. He takes in the whole outfit that he’d been too distracted to see yesterday: despite the unfortunate sailor’s uniform, it’s clear that the lady has style.

She doesn’t look up as he approaches, but he can see the nametag pinned to the side of her upper right arm. An unusual spot, but he can respect the unconventionality of it. He politely checks it this time only to grin when he reads her name.

A frisson of delight bursts through him: Steve has found his Robin!

Present Steve finally has the platonic soulmate that’ll sit on his shoulder. Eddie wonders how long they’ve known each other by this point; wants to sort of ask her about her experience working with him and share the little Steve-isms that make him so cute. He clears his throat, still grinning widely.

Robin shifts, casually resting back on one foot and cynically eyes him. “Sorry, didn’t see you there.” Her voice is flat and uninterested.

Eddie’s smile drops slightly; okay, maybe she has periphery issues.

Before he can respond, she speaks again in a dry voice, “Here for round two, Eddie?” Oh, she knows his name too, which is embarrassing since he’s been referring to her as the girl from band. Now that he thinks about it, she’d been the one to call him over for his rocky road while he’d steadily leaked his brains from his ears yesterday.

Swallowing crow, he lightly responds with a friendly smile back in place. “Just here to patronise this fine dairy establishment.” He flicks a look towards the open window between the front and the backroom but doesn’t see any movement. “Now that you mention it though, is he here?”

Robin’s smirk is slow and edged with an enigmatic sharpness, “Why, you want to tell him he’s pathetic too?”

Eddie recoils, shocked, “What? No! Why would I do that?”

She hums, eyes shrewd as her head tilts to the side in contemplation. “Well. For all the rumours about the Harrigton charm, his game really sucks. Which probably wouldn’t be too sad, if it weren’t for the snide little giggles he keeps getting from the chicks he’s hitting on.”

Robin leans forward as if Eddie’s her confidant, waiting to breathelessly dish on all the ways he dislikes Steve too. “To be honest, I think he should give it a rest for his pride alone.” Her eyes are watchful.

Heat prickles under Eddie’s skin and he decides that this can’t be Robin, eyeing her right back. The name is a coincidence because perfect, platonic soulmate Robin would absolutely see the Harrington charm. Steve practically oozes it! The real one would be too smart to miss it. She would hype him up and play wingwoman, not tear him down behind his back.

The warmth of it fuels the glare he shoots at her, “Maybe it’s just that the chicks can’t see what’s valuable in front of their snooty eyes.” Eddie drums his fingers against the counter, no longer interested in this conversation and glances at the backroom again. Still no sign of Steve.

An unreadable expression crosses not-Steve’s-Robin’s face and she carefully says, “True, he’s not as much of a snob as I thought he’d be.”

Eddie glances at her, attention tepidly renewed. “Yes, and he’s funny too.”

“In a dorky sort of sense,” she concedes, the frost in her bearing slowly melting away. “Like he lets the kids he babysits run all over him, but in a nice way.”

Eddie perks up, “He’s been babysitting?” So, Present Steve at least has his back pocket full of the little smart-asses by this point. He’s relieved; outside of high school, Steve is getting his found family together.

The corner of her mouth tugs in a subtle twitch and she looks away with pursed lips for a moment before turning back, “Yeah, you know them or something?”

Eddie shakes his head, though he does theoretically know the one. “Nah, he just mentioned them once.” Which is technically true. Confessing to taking a plate to the head for a bunch of rugrats sounds like premium babysitting services. Should come with hazard pay he muses even as he steps back.

“Well, I’ll just get out of your hair…”

Robin coughs, a quick moment that disguises her mouth with a spread hand. “You don’t want some ice cream?” she asks, voice strained. Eddie blinks, looking to the display case to his left, abruptly remembering that it’s not normal for Eddie Munson to seek out Steve Harrington in June of 1985 and that his only sensible reason to be here is for ice cream.

He quickly looks back up, suddenly registering the amusement dancing in her blue eyes and that the strain in her voice had been to hold back from laughing at him. Mouth dropping even as he hastily tries to come up with an excuse, Eddie backs up another few steps before slamming into the solid wall behind him.

Except it’s a solid, warm wall with scolding hot hands that reach out to grab Eddie’s upper arms, holding him against the lean heat of Present Steve, “Woah, Munson. You’ll knock out the little kiddies if you keep running around like that.”

Eddie’s face flushes as Steve’s deep rumble caresses his ears, his breath ruffling the loose curls that lay on his neck. The other boy’s chin is almost hooked over Eddie’s shoulder with how close he stands next to him.

The position is reminiscent of their time in the van, but the smell of his cologne is wrong and the juxtaposition has Eddie’s body locking up. “Sorry,” he practically squeaks and immediately wants to throw his head against the wall.

Be cool, he reminds himself. Weird is fine, but not like little gremlin weird.

He clears his throat and twirls around dramatically, back immediately feeling cold. Stepping closer to the counter, Eddie waves a wide arm towards the display with a crooked grin and a waggle of his eyebrows, “I was simply overwhelmed by the absolute array, the splendorous spread of options to delight the tongue.”

Robin snickers behind him and he’s not sure if it’s in amusement with him or at him so he pretends she’s not there.

Steve seems to have his own tongue firmly in cheek as he hums in agreement, “Wouldn’t want you overwhelmed, care to set sail on this ocean of flavour with me?” He gives a goofy little half bow that has Eddie’s heart flipping into a ridiculous somersault and moves behind the counter.

Reaching over he snags an apron and deftly ties the white strings around his hips, causing a little bulge of his stomach to flex in between. Eddie definitely doesn’t lick his lips, but it’s a near thing when Steve then picks up his ice cream scooper and twirls it like a gunslinger about to face off in the Wild West.

Eyes dropping to the short polyester pants that emphasise the long length of his legs, capped in white tube socks again, Eddie despairs. It’s like gym class all over. He’s ready to howl at the moon and Steve’s barely done anything but stand there looking delicious.

“Well, Munson,” Steve interrupts his libidinous thoughts, eyes gleaming, “what flavour will make you go mmmm?”

He nearly chokes on the sound of Steve moaning like Eddie has his hands on him on the couch back home.

Not to be outdone he quickly thinks on his reply because, damn it, Eddie can only choke on his horniness so much before he will have to take himself out back to be shot like a lame horse. Wait. Steve as a gunslinger, riding Eddie, that’s actually—

“Munson?” Eddie blinks and looks up at two pairs of eyes: one remains drenched in amusement and the other a familiar hazel that starts to shade over with concern. Steve slams his scoop back into his holster and leans away, hooking a hand into the back pocket of his shorts. His tone is a shade more distant, not unfriendly but closer to the cooler attitude of yesterday.

Eddie clears his throat once more, “Sorry, was thinking about a man with a horse, you know how it is.”

Steve cocks his head in confusion and Eddie hastens to add, “Or not. Probably not.” He casts a distracted eye over the flavours, wondering if he sounds like he has a cold coming on with all his throat clearing, and grabs onto the first familiar words, “USS Butterscotch, just one scoop, thanks.”

“Sure.” With easy movements, Steve swipes a cone and digs out a round of butterscotch—sans the scooper twirl to Eddie’s disappointment—and then adds another on top. He passes over the cone, smile returning. “Dollar twenty five.”

Eddie takes the cone, the tips of his fingers brushing against Steve’s, “That’s the cost of one scoop, not two, Steve.”

Steve’s smile broadens, all teeth and charm, “Well, Eddie, consider it a gift in the interest of shattering old social constructs now that I’m out of high school.” He immediately winces, eyes cutting away in embarrassment, “I didn’t mean to—” he stumbles, clearly trying to avoid finishing with: —say now that you failed high school again, like a freak.

Eddie’s own smile has gone tight, pulled down with the weight of the dismay that fills him. It’s hard to bask in being close to Steve when feeling like such a loser. You’re not, he hears Future Steve say. But he probably looks like one to the present version, he thinks with a silent sigh. He politely hands over the change, “No problem, thanks for the scoop.”

Discouraged, Eddie finds it easier now to give a relaxed smile and casual salute as he leaves. He doesn’t dare look over at Robin to see whether amusement has given way to pity and exits, far less concerned with his dignity than when he had entered.

The escalator carries Eddie to the ground floor as he sadly licks the weird chemically sweet ice cream. He doesn’t have it in him to bin the snack after Steve made a gift out of it.

A burst of laughter sounds from the group of middle schoolers that he sidesteps, one of them yelling insults at her passing brother. Their mirth has him suddenly flashing to Steve dissolving into a fit of giggles in the van, staring down at two containers — one full of rocky road and the other butterscotch.

“Son of a bitch,” he curses loudly and a passing woman scatters away from him, eyes wide in her shocked face. “That considerate fucker.” Eddie stares down at the melting ice cream, the creamy-white and golden swirl evidence of this moment in time having already happened.

Meaning that Eddie had always stopped by Scoops on that first visit, and this second time too.

What does this imply about Eddie’s choices versus inevitability in current events? He’d rationalised the visit today because he didn’t want to mess up the timeline by having Steve avoid him in the future. Was he always destined to come here? Had that Eddie stopped by a second time because he liked ice cream so much? Or was he fated to like Steve at some point anyway, and had returned to make a better impression after also embarrassing himself the first time?

The lack of concrete answers makes Eddie's head spin a little, but it’s as he watches a trail of the cold treat drip from the edges of his fist, landing with a delicate splat against the polished floors that he remembers Steve’s last words to him behind the counter.

Eddie throws the melted cone into a nearby trashcan, striding towards the boiling heat outside. Steve knew Eddie was going to fail senior year a second time and hadn’t said a damned thing.

 

 

Chapter 21: Grief and Loyalty

Summary:

Last chapter, Eddie met a protective Robin, got distracted by horny thoughts about Steve at Scoops, and realised that Steve always knew he'd fail his second senior year.

This chapter, Eddie works through his anger as he keeps running into Present Steve before and after Independence Day.

Eddie stretches his torso over the black vinyl seats and snatches the Winstons out of the glove box. Slamming the door shut behind him, he leans against the side of his van, the steel a branding heat against his back and cups his hand to light the cigarette. The sun beats down on Starcourt’s parking lot mercilessly and the asphalt blisters his sneakers below him.

He takes a furious drag only to expel it in a swift exhalation. Can’t be bothered controlling his breathing because he is vexed, the polluted smoke of resentment filling every crevice of his body, building into a whirling wind of heat to match Hawkins’ scorching summer. A vortex that Eddie stands at the centre of asking why.

He knows that Steve needs to save the future or whatever but surely a diploma in Eddie’s hand isn’t going to distort the timeline to the point that the world ends. Eddie’s education is not world-ending material. It’s one small fucking thing and he could have done it. He knows it. Miss Kelly knows it. Wayne will know it by the end of next year. But the point is that Eddie had been capable of graduating this year if he’d only known that it was worthwhile.

Steve knew. He knew how much Eddie wanted to become a nurse. Had known he was set on it since March. And it may have been just a glimmer in the fall, but it had been an idea, a simmering possibility. And even if it hadn’t been, even if Steve wasn’t sure of where Eddie wanted to go, how hard is it to tell the guy putting you up that hey, heads up, it won’t kill the timeline so just so you know, you’ll fail senior year again unless you do something about it. One fucking sentence, Steve, Eddie seethes.

His jaw clenches so hard he can’t even make himself take another drag, the thin paper curling away, precariously close to burning his fingertips. Or is it because Steve thought he was so incapable of success, Eddie asks himself venomously, throwing the thought into the flames like spiteful kindling. Eddie Munson repeating senior year, can’t do much of anything but draw his stupid Hellfire characters in Click’s class.

An image flashes through his mind of Steve carefully pinning Eddie’s maths test to the fridge door, another of him proudly smiling at the neat row stitched across a butchered orange. But Eddie pushes it down, deliberately feeding the memories into the fire like the crunched-up paper of all the assignments he failed.

The fading ember of the cigarette bites at his fingers and Eddie curses, flinging the butt away. It lands by a dark green Buick, the sunlight sparking off the side mirrors and distracting him for a moment. Enough that he doesn’t see Steve round the other side of the van.

“Eddie,” he calls, nervously sticking his head around Eddie’s Chevy. The dixie cup is stuffed into the back of Steve’s polyester blue shorts and he wiggles his fingers in a short wave. Eddie sighs, Steve is the last person he wants to see right now. Not sure that he can swallow his irritation, even though this version has done nothing to earn Eddie’s anger.

He will though, Eddie thinks resentfully as he stares down at those familiar white Nikes. He wonders if the little smudge of Italy still stains the heels or whether Steve finally cleaned it off. If he doesn’t look up then his resentment won’t bore its way through to Steve; after all, he has honest eyes.

Eddie squeezes them shut, the image of Steve staring down at him with affection and devotion dancing behind the dark of his lids. The reminder cools the sides of his anger, allowing him to look up at Steve who shifts uneasily as their eyes meet.

“I’m sorry,” he blurts out suddenly.

Eddie blinks, the uncanny experience of Steve getting ahead of the apology that Eddie had wanted so fiercely a moment ago putting him further off balance. “Excuse me?” he asks, knowing that there’s no way that this Steve knows what he was thinking.

“For coming on too strong back there.” Eddie’s eyebrows raise reflexively at the word choice and Steve stammers, “Like trying to be too friendly too soon. I really didn’t mean to say anything about you and school either, I just thought it’d be a way to break the ice. Find some common ground, you know? We haven’t really talked since…” Steve spears his fingers through his hair and Eddie’s resolve softens at the familiar gesture.

“Since you were concussed,” he supplies with a half-smile at the memory, thinking of Steve hissing at him like a wet kitten on the toilet floors.

Steve squints suspiciously like he has an inkling of the amusement begrudgingly dripping through Eddie. It dowses the edges of the dangerous fire that had sparked through him earlier and he holds out the red and white pack of Winstons, “Want a smoke?”

Steve smiles, stepping forward and slipping a slim white stick out. Eddie hands him the purple translucent lighter, figuring it best that he keep out of Steve’s personal space for now. The echo of the spark rings between them, swiftly drowned out by the sound of a toddler giggling as she runs past, her pink tutu bobbing and indulgent parents keeping an eye out as they placidly trail after her.

Steve follows her stumbling progress, watching with an entertained smile even as he exhales a plume of smoke and taps the cigarette at the ground. He passes the pack back and Eddie takes it carefully, avoiding his fingers and stuffing the cardboard into the back pocket of his jeans. “Thanks,” Steve says, “yeah, uh, I thought you may have been pissed that I blew you off.”

Eddie shakes his head ruefully, remembering who he had been angry at and how he had vented it with an outstretched fist with keys clenched between his fingers. “Nah,” he says softly. “I could see you were busy around then.”

Steve half laughs, a tinge of bitterness bleeding through the sound. “Nothing like getting your heart stomped to put the blinkers on. Still, I should have said thank you or something. You went out of your way for me, and it was really nice of you.”

“Water under the bridge, Steve,” he waves a sympathetic hand. “Don’t worry, I forgot about it already.”

Steve blinks, turning to look down at the smoke curling above his pinched fingers. “Oh yeah, of course you did.” Eddie bites the inside of his cheek, suddenly knowing that Steve thinks that their meeting had meant nothing to him rather than it being Eddie trying to let him off the hook.

Steve draws a slow drag, exhaling again before looking back with a passive expression. “Anyway, I didn’t want you to be mad at me, so Robin took pity and let me come out to apologise.”

“You don’t have to,” Eddie blurts out, wincing at how loud he’d said it. “I mean, I wasn’t angry at you. I was pissed off, but it was at a friend. Someone else that is.” He leans forward and plucks the smoke out of Steve’s hand, irritatedly inhaling at the reminder even as Steve’s eyes widen in surprise.

“Maybe still are?” Steve says wryly with a light chuckle.

Eddie grimaces, the shamelessness of confessing his anger at Steve to an innocent Steve striking him, but he doesn’t want to blow him off either. “Maybe,” he mutters, staring out the shimmering wave of metal across the parking lot. He purses his lips and thinks fuck it. “He knew that something not very cool was going to happen and he didn’t give me a heads up.”

“What an asshole,” Steve offers, turning towards Eddie and leaning his shoulder against the side of the van. “You should dump him.” Eddie's mouth gapes at that Steve had guessed he meant his boyfriend.

Steve nervously scratches at the back of his neck, “I mean, uh, if he’s that bad of a friend, then dump him. He’s not worth your time.”

Eddie’s surprise fades but it’s swiftly replaced with indignation at Steve’s careless judgement. Despite being mad, he doesn’t want to break up. Can’t even fathom staring into Steve’s sad eyes and telling him to get lost. Eddie scowls, “He’s not that bad. He just should have told me something and chose not to.”

“But he’s not exactly a good friend either,” Steve protests, looking disgruntled and shaking his head. “If there’s one thing I’ve had time to do in the past year, it’s to think. And when the people closest to you drop you out of nowhere then how faithful are you supposed to be to the memories of that friendship?”

Eddie eyes him, momentarily distracted from his annoyance, “Tommy did a real number on you, huh.”

Steve sighs, the two creases between his brow furrowing and gaze turning inward as he looks past Eddie. “I thought being a good friend meant being there, doing anything to make sure that they’re happy. Even if that meant going against what felt right. Holding my tongue, at the very least.”

“That doesn’t sound very healthy,” Eddie extends cautiously.

Steve laughs unexpectedly, cutting his gaze back to Eddie, a hint of amusement glimmering at the back of his eyes and he plucks the cigarette back from Eddie’s fingers. “No, it probably wasn’t.”

He blows out a gust of smoke before passing it back. “And all it took was the rug being pulled out from under me. For Tommy and Carol to disappear on me virtually overnight to realise that whatever loyalty they had wasn’t strong enough to stand against me not doing exactly what they expected.”

Eddie nods, contemplatively looking down at the cherry glow in his hand.

“It’s what’s important,” Steve says suddenly.

“Loyalty?” Eddie guesses, intrigued to see the lines on Steve’s face settling into a familiar stubbornness.

He swiftly nods, “And maybe I got it mixed up at first, but loyalty means telling someone they’re being an asshole rather than holding your tongue. And it means talking it out or trying to do better. Not just cut and running when things get hard.”

“Cut and running?” A sinking feeling builds in Eddie’s stomach.

“I’ll never do that,” he says. “I may be a loser who can’t even get into my safety schools, but I’ll protect the people that matter.”

“And expect the same in return,” Eddie finishes.

Steve nods again, fire still in his eyes, “Shouldn’t that be, like, the bare minimum?”

Eddie blows out a resigned breath. Grinding the cigarette butt under the sole of his shoe, he stares at a miniature American flag flapping in the wind. It’s one of many attached to the cars stretched across the parking lot, dotting the landscape in anticipation of celebrating the fourth in the next few days. He still hasn’t gotten Steve a birthday present yet, he realises; he’d been distracted.

Been wrapped up in preparing for the year ahead, in keeping his thoughts busy so he didn’t get overwhelmed in his misery of missing Steve. And, in turn, has forgotten Steve pacing the trailer. Staring out the windows. Steve muttering to himself when he thought he was alone, sternly ordering himself not to be the asshole that kills everyone.

He’d said it all along, hadn’t he?

The first night as Steve fell into an exhausted slumber: But I don’t want you to get hurt either.

Steve slamming his fist down on his thighs in punishment: And I’m going to let her go through all that again.

The devastation on his face as he walked away from Dustin on day one.

Steve had understood it well before Eddie. He’d realised that he was condemning himself to an inescapable hell of his own choosing. A twisted paradox where Steve’s greatest achievement in this war will be a tortured inaction.

The twisting plumes of smoke that had swirled around Eddie in the centre of his vortex are blown away, leaving only a bitter blanket of ashes behind. This Steve talks about loyalty but what Eddie hears is protection.

At the core of Steve is always the soldier battling to protect his friends. Because he had said it: they’d gotten out alive. He hadn’t meant people in general because he’d said that others had died. No, he meant his people. His family. Steve is making sure that the timeline will continue exactly as it should to save Dustin and Robin and maybe Eddie too.

Eddie sighs, the tension in his gut dying along with the angry bees in his brain. Fruitlessly wishing life were easier, just somewhat. Enough that it didn’t require blood and sacrifice from the man that he loves. He scrubs a tired hand against his forehead, and what a time to admit to himself that what he feels for Steve is love.

Deep, abiding, he will wait for Steve as long as he needs to, love.

The ache in his heart is bittersweet, a beautiful sharpness that he rubs at.

“Eddie, you okay, man?”

He blinks, having forgotten that he wasn’t alone. Eddie turns his head against the metal of the van, looking at the dearly familiar face absent of the depth of emotion usually staring back at him. Concerned, gentle even, but achingly empty of the adoration that Eddie has come to expect as naturally as his next breath.

He smiles softly, a fondness settling in him for this younger version of his Steve. Tracing the furrow that he likes to stroke away, down to the constellation of stars dotted across his face, Eddie is filled with a tender warmth at the days ahead for this boy. He will face pain—such pain—but he’ll do it for love, for Dustin and Robin and maybe Eddie too.

“Why are you so good at this, Steve Harrington?” Eddie asks.

He tries to hide it, but Eddie sees him light up at the compliment. He sadly wonders when was the last time that someone told Steve that he did good. He hopes it happens again before Eddie finally says it in the back of the van, the night of the sky shielding them and love already present.

Steve bites his lip before cautiously smiling, “Like I said, I had a lot of time to think this year.”

Eddie takes his face in once more, a memory to keep him warm until Steve returns: the gentle curve of his smile, the barest hint of a crease at the corner of his hazel eyes, the bronze strands that fall lovingly around his strong jaw. He’ll take this snapshot and keep it like a locket next to his heart, and Eddie will wait until his Steve comes back to him again.

 

---

 

“Please no,” Gareth groans, clutching his stomach as they stumble out of the Graviton, he squints against the flashing neon lights surrounding the ride that looks like a descending UFO. “Not again or I’m making Thokk go rogue at every chance.”

Jeff eyes his green face, “Just don’t puke on me, man.” Randy is distracted, peering over where Eddie can distantly see the Hawkins cheerleading squad flipping and catching each other. He rolls his eyes, but the evil cackle of laughter from the Cave of Horrors catches his interest as they walk in the opposite direction.

“I need funnel cake,” Eddie declares and Gareth retches. “Come on,” he tugs the youngest Hellfire member along with an arm around his shoulder, “the sugar will help settle your stomach.” The boys navigate around a group of joyfully screaming children, the sparklers in their clenched hands creating bright swirling outlines in the night sky.

“I’m not sure that’s how it works,” Randy warns, catching up with them. “Hey, where’s Dougie anyway, wasn’t he supposed to join us?”

Eddie grins over Gareth’s curls, “The Doug—Man of all Dougs—has a date.” He wonders whether Dougie had brought his special new lady to the carnival tonight, the cheery music of the merry-go-round is inane, but he can’t deny the charm of the twinkling fairy lights crisscrossing across the park.

Jeff digs out his wallet as they join the line at the food stall, “And he calls himself The Freak.”

Randy shuffles back into the group, a frozen Coke suddenly in his hand, “He finally asked out Sarah.”

“No!” Eddie’s mouth drops before he shoves funnel cake into it. He talks around a mess of deep-fried dough and powdered sugar, “They better not break up, I’m not having personal relationships fuck up a campaign.”

“I vote we keep Sarah if they do,” Jeff shrugs with an amused glimmer at Eddie’s questioning look. “Her backstories are always good and Dougie never brings snacks.” Eddie opens his mouth to respond but is distracted by the sight of Chief Hopper, looking like Magnum PI complete with colourful shirt and banged-up face, sprinting towards the Hall of Mirrors.

He frowns, looking around for the disturbance but everyone continues normally: a man in plaid pants strolls by as he chomps into his hot dog; a child with a flag as a cape runs past while shrieking. Above them, the sharp ring of a rising firework precedes an ear-shattering boom; red, white and blue bursting like a patriotic dandelion blown away. Stopping, the boys tilt their heads up to enjoy the spectacle.

Eddie wonders where Steve is tonight. It’s July Fourth, his birthday. The day that Steve tries to avoid wanting to celebrate. No Tommy this year to ignore it with, but maybe not close enough with Robin yet to tell her either. He’s not quite sure of the timing since Steve is always so squirrely about it, but it’s possible that today is the day that he comes out as queer to his newly gained best friend.

Eddie sighs, making a silent wish on the radiant patterns whirling above them. Hoping with all his heart that Steve has someone by his side today.

He’d avoided counting down to the special occasion like he had with Christmas. A superstitious part of him convinced that the reason Steve hadn’t returned by the holidays was because Eddie had been so sure that he would appear. That Eddie’s devout wish to celebrate it with Steve had jinxed whatever it is that propels him through time.

So, July Fourth begins and ends without Eddie letting himself believe that Steve will return. He resisted getting a present beforehand—a definite jinx—and holds out for a week afterwards too. But it eats away at him: the idea that Steve maybe didn’t have anyone to celebrate his birthday with in the summer of ‘85. Makes Eddie want to shower him with affection and attention even more so; yet, he still holds out in the July heat a week again after that, before finally caving to buy Steve a present.

It's way past jinxing time and he wants to have something ready for him when he next appears. It’s the light in his loved ones’ faces that drives Eddie, the amusement or the appreciation, that special something that tells him they know that they’re precious to him. Of all places, it lands him at The Bookshelf on Main searching in the history section. The store is relatively busy since Dalton’s Booksellers had burned down with the rest of Starcourt Mall.

The news reported the death toll only last week, after it was finally doused and safe to shift amongst the rubble. Eddie had been sad to see that the Chief had been counted amongst them; he didn’t have any great affection for the guy who would likely arrest him as soon as look at him but having seen Hopper only hours before his death had shaken Eddie somewhat.

The whole affair had sobered any satisfaction Wayne or Eddie may have had at the mall monstrosity falling in on itself, but there is no denying that local businesses had gotten a much-needed shot in the arm from it.

He’s searching the frankly intimidating section when Steve’s voice sounds behind him. “Eddie, is that you?”

Eddie slides his hands into his pockets, so that he’s not tempted to reach out, and turns to face Present Steve. He’s close, enough that Eddie can smell the warm wood notes of the cologne that complements his natural musk and enough to appreciate the initial sight of him in the tight jeans and polo shirt combo. But also close enough to see that the left of Steve’s face looks like it’s been through a meat grinder again.

“Steve,” Eddie breathes, stepping forward before he knows it, cupping the unblemished side of his jaw gently. Steve’s eyes widen and he stills in his hands, frozen in the centre of the store while the soft strings of a classical piece of music plays faintly over the speakers.

Eddie stares at him, heart turning over in dread. His entire right eye socket and down to half his cheekbone is covered in the fading dark of healing bruises, the yellow and greens peeking through like a shifting nebula of gas and dust. Despite the lighter colours indicating that Steve is healing, his nose is swollen, and his lip has a rough split through it. “What happened to you?”

Steve is still surprised if his dropped mouth has anything to say about it and it’s not until Eddie takes in those long lashes fluttering that he realises that he’s touching Steve in an entirely overfamiliar and unexplainable way. He drops back, shoving his hand deep into his jean’s pockets. “Sorry. But, what the fuck?”

Steve grimaces, wincing when it makes the skin around his bruises stretch too fast. “Starcourt? I was there when it burned down, got trapped with a few people.”

Eddie breathes carefully around the heavy pressure building in his chest, “By any chance were you babysitting?”

“How did you know?” Steve’s head cocks in confusion and a hint of suspicion, the natural light streaming through the store windows glinting off the bronze woven through his hair.

Eddie can’t say: Well, Steve. I suspect that babysitting is code for fighting in a battle against demons from the infinite abyss. In a war that you apparently engage in fucking yearly. Can’t say it but wants to howl at Steve to stop throwing himself in front of whatever dangerous fuckery that continues to threaten his life. Immediately knows that if his kids were then then Steve was always going to push his body and soul in front of harm’s way.

He loosens his jaw and hopes that Steve hasn’t seen his fists clenching in his pockets, finally managing to say, “Your coworker? Robin? She mentioned that you were babysitting over the summer.”

Steve instantly relaxes, his brows unfurrowing, and Eddie wants to thwap him on the nose or something. Tell him not to take his word for it. Keep asking me, Eddie silently urges Steve since then he’ll have an excuse to take care of him. Because Steve is walking and talking but even standing still Eddie can see that he’s favouring his left side like he’s taken a hit to the ribs. Without an Eddie around had he even seen a nurse? It’s not like Miss Morgan's office is just a classroom away anymore.

“Was Robin there?” he abruptly asks.

Steve blinks like following Eddie’s train of thought is keeping him off balance. Or is it another concussion, Eddie worries. But his eyes are clear and he’s not squinting at the light or showing other signs of confusion. “She was,” Steve answers slowly. “Why?” his smile is awkward, “don’t tell me you ended up having a thing for her?”

Eddie rolls his eyes at the non sequitur and decides on a half-truth. “No, I’m just wondering if you got yourself another concussion, but I figure if you had a friend around you might have had yourself looked at.”

Steve’s face softens and his smile becomes more genuine. “I did,” he admits quietly, “get looked at, that is. How did you know that Robin insisted?”

Eddie glances away, absently noting the book in Steve’s hand, the relief that he had been cared for unlocking the cold in his joints even as he still feels sick at the way Steve’s slightly curled up on one side. Starcourt was two whole weeks ago, and he looks barely healed. He wants to put Steve’s head in his lap and stroke his fingers through his hair like he does when he has a headache coming on.

Eddie jerks his head towards the book instead, “What have you got there?” It’s a self-help book and on a plain white cover a bold blue font states On Death and Dying. Eddie’s entire body flashes cold. Is it one of the kids? Christ, did he lose one? Was Eddie’s visits at Scoops a butterfly after all and Steve fucking lost one of the kids?

Steve glances down at the glossy cover, lips flattening, “You remember that girl I told you about? Max?”

Eddie casts his mind back to the first time this Steve had ever really talked to him. “Billy’s sister? The one who took him down after he beat you.”

“Didn’t exactly beat me,” Steve mutters. Eddie makes a face at him and Steve relents to admit, “Billy died, at the mall.” Eddie feels a twinge of guilt at the relief that flows through him. “Oh shit, I’m sorry, Steve.”

Steve shrugs, clearly uncomfortable, “I didn’t exactly like the guy. Clearly…” He waves a hand over the bruises on his face where Eddie knows a scar still lies under them. “But I didn’t wish him dead, either. And if I’m feeling weird about it, I don’t even know how Max is dealing with it.” He sighs, turning around to lightly lean against the bookcase, the bell at the door rings faintly in the background. “I wasn’t even sure about getting this. It’s not like I can shove the book at her and that’ll, like, help anything.”

Mulling it over, Eddie thinks about the grief that still strikes through him for his younger self at times. The circumstances are different, but he suspects that being abandoned by an abusive fucker whether by choice or death has some crossover between it. He touches a light finger to Steve’s arm, bringing his attention to Eddie, not that he had ever looked away. “You remember what I told you that time.”

Steve doesn’t hesitate, “About checking in?” He registers Eddie’s surprise. “Hard to forget,” he murmurs, looking away briefly before cutting back to Eddie. “The same?”

Eddie shrugs, “I’m not an expert or anything but I know that when I was going through a hard time, my uncle just kept coming back and talking to me. No matter how angry I got.” Steve snorts even as a thoughtful expression falls over him, “Yeah, she sits in angry pretty well.”

“Maybe read the book yourself,” Eddie suggests. “Use it to think about what you might want to say to her.”

Steve shifts until he’s facing Eddie again, the top of the bookshelf sheltering them from the rest of the store. “You’re pretty wise, you know that?”

Eddie scoffs, amusement at being thought of anything that clever filing him. “No, that’s Uncle Wayne,” he explains to Steve. “I’m just trying to pass on the good stuff.”

“Well, you’re smart enough to listen. Smart enough to know when it’s right to pass on.” Steve’s eyes flicker over Eddie’s face, reminiscent of a similar expression at the base of the Harrington staircase, before firming in a decision that leaves Eddie clueless. “And you’re still kind.”

Eddie scratches at his warming cheek, the stubble rasping in the silence between them and a sadness welling inside of his heart. Because just as he had in that brief moment in Scoops, Eddie feels like he has his Steve in front of him again, and it hurts that he can’t step forward and press a kiss to those lips that he misses every night. Can’t make this run-down-looking boy in front of him take a stupid nap in their stupid bed.

He looks at the books behind them, trying to find a distraction before he offers to do just that. “Hey, you know anything about history?”

Eddie smiles as Steve brightens, pushing away from the wood at his back to look at the selection behind him. “Yeah, a bit. Why? Are you?”

Eddie waggles his head side to side, “Not hugely.”

Steve’s face falls and Eddie stifles a laugh, thinking of comparing Steve and Robin to kids who decide to be best friends based on their favourite milkshakes. Briefly wonders if Eddie had chosen to lie whether Steve would’ve offered him the second friendship slot on the spot. “But I have a friend who is, and I missed their birthday. I want to get them something they’d like.”

Steve squints a little, reservation flickering over his expression. “Is this the same friend who is the asshole?”

Eddie laughs, delighted at the irony of Steve calling himself names. He bumps their shoulders amiably, “He can be a bit of an asshole, but he deserves a great present.’

Steve scowls and turns back to the rows of books, “Sure. Fine. So, an Eddie Munson friend, hey?” He briefly looks back to Eddie, noting the chunky silver rings that he’s actually wearing today (thank, Christ) and the hint of the demon head tattoo on his chest that peeks through the wide mouth of his shirt. Turning back, he runs his fingers over the spines, the muscles in his forearm subtly flexing as he moves.

“Here,” he pulls out a slim volume with a picture of a silver and gold elephant on the cover; a glowing pearl sits on top of it like a rider. “I skimmed through this at the library once, it was interesting. It’s about the history of metals in art. Like iron in Renaissance sculptures, copperplates for printing on paper and, uh, like gold? But that was the Egyptians — they’d use it in jewellery but also sculptures and paintings, even as makeup to get their eyes all glittery and stuff.” He wriggles his fingers in front of his own lids in demonstration. An adorably goofy gesture that has the sadness that filled Eddie slipping away like a departing tide from the shore.

“It was ceremonial,” Steve stops as he catches Eddie’s widening smile, threading his fingers through his hair. “A bit much, huh?”

Eddie shakes his head enthusiastically, “No, that’s perfect. Thanks. I think he’ll like it.”

Steve’s face runs through a complicated expression and Eddie’s not entirely sure what’s going through this version’s mind. After living in each other’s space for so long, he’s come to rely on being able to follow Steve’s train of thought, but he’s not spent time with this boy really. Not in the same way, and the experience he has is not yet useful.

And just as he’s not yet able to easily read Steve nor is he able to tuck him safely away into Eddie’s pocket, keeping him safe from harm. So, he thanks him and says farewell, leaving him behind on Main Street before he’s tempted to offer him a coffee or more conversation to show his gratitude.

It’s hard, every time, leaving Steve behind.

Still, Eddie thinks as sits cross-legged on his bed later that evening, wrapping the book in the same red and white wrapping paper he had used for Steve’s Van Halen tape, the timing of it all makes him suspicious. The mall had burned down as the town had celebrated at the carnival, which means that whatever hurt Steve, it happened on his birthday. He was making a best friend on the floor of the toilets somewhere — while puking, he had said.

Eddie carefully smooths the creases on the book, storing it in his bedside drawer. Nevertheless, he continues to reassure himself: Steve is safe for now. He has his Robin, and he has his kids, and that’s all he had wanted at this point in time.

When the worry gnaws at Eddie as he closes his eyes in bed, he makes himself remember Dustin patting Steve’s shoulders in the door frame of his little hobbit home, offering comfort even when he barely knew him yet. He visualises the amusement in Robin’s eyes and her subtle protection of Steve behind his back, even though it took a while for Eddie to realise her intentions. The exercises work and sleep claims Eddie in its heavy embrace, burying all dark thoughts under sweeter dreams.

Hours later, the room bathed in the shadows of night, he hazily resurfaces to the edge of wakefulness, the world blurry and undefined. The bed dips by his hip and the summer moon illuminates Steve’s face as he gazes down at Eddie.

Drowsily blinking, Eddie struggles to make his sluggish brain work. He knows he has something to say, but the fog of sleep has him firmly in its grasp. Steve shushes him, running gentle fingers over the side of his face, pushing his long hair behind one ear. “Go back to sleep, baby. It’s all right.”

The deep well of trust that Eddie has for Steve draws him down, folding him under its depths and sinking into peace once more. His last memory is of Steve’s hand as it continues to gently thread through his hair.

 

 

Chapter 22: That's My Boyfriend

Summary:

Last chapter, Eddie defended Future Steve to Present Steve who advised him to drop his unreliable friend, and while trying to find him a birthday present Eddie comes across Present Steve once more looking like he'd lost a fight. In the end, Eddie admitted to himself that he's in love.

This chapter, Eddie enthusiastically greets Future Steve on his return, Steve reveals why he was so banged up after Starcourt mall while questioning why Eddie isn't mad at him about senior year.

His pillow is moving.

Eddie frowns at the bright light penetrating his eyelids because screw you morning sun, but also because his pillow is moving. Up and down in a steady pattern that feels really fucking familiar and he’s not sure what he’s going to do if it’s not Steve under his cheek.

He takes a breath, tasting the air, the scent of their shared washing powder and the mouthwatering natural musk of Steve filling his mouth.

Eyes flying open to a familiar thatch of chest hair, Eddie tilts his head up in a meticulous movement that allows his vision to slowly fill with Steve’s neck and its two little vampire bites of his beauty marks on the left side, to the sharp cut of his jaw and the hint of morning stubble, over to his closed lids, a faint darkness under his eyes that suggests he hadn’t slept well the night before.

“Holy fuck,” Eddie breathes quietly, burying his head down once more, inhaling and exhaling along with the deep rhythm of Steve’s chest. Allows the warmth of the realisation that he’s back home to fill him steadily, as welcome as the hot skin under him and the blanket covering them. It loosens the knot that had abruptly formed ever since that green screwdriver had hit the carpeted floor, leaving relief to rush through him, the feeling almost euphoric.

Eddie huffs out a laugh at the thought, lightly nuzzling at Steve’s chest while the movement causes the nipple under him to perk at attention. He swallows around a sudden mouthful of spit as an idea begins to simmer.

Shifting and immediately aware of the morning hardness in his boxers becoming fuller, heavier against Steve’s thigh, he bears down, just a little to relieve his building arousal. Steve sighs softly in his sleep like he knows that Eddie’s thinking of him.

He grins and inches over and down, heart thumping as he disappears beneath the dark heat of the blanket to press small kisses onto Steve’s chest and along his stomach. The smell of him is strong and surrounds Eddie like a spreading sunrise, welcome and inevitable.

He stops to nibble at Steve’s belly button before making his way to the edges of his underwear. “Baby?” Steve’s sleep roughened voice sounds above him and his hand pushes back the covering darkness to settle over Eddie’s hair, lightly cupping his jaw.

Eddie smirks, looking up at Steve to see his eyes flash as he registers Eddie’s position. “Morning, sweetheart,” Eddie says, tugging at the elastic at his waist. Steve smiles, the edge of it still a little drowsy, but lifts his hips so Eddie can bring the blue material under his thighs.

Unveiling Steve's cock, Eddie swallows in excitement. It’s like a beautiful present all for him, bending from the weight of his arousal and flushed a ruddy red that has Eddie licking his lips.

“Yeah, you want to make me feel good?” Steve asks in a rumbling whisper. Eddie nods, heart knocking against his ribs in anticipation, but he looks up at Steve first for permission.

He smiles in approval, “Okay baby, I want you to follow my directions, can you do that?”

The thrumming of his pulse throbs in his dick. “Yes,” Eddie breathlessly agrees even as he grinds against the mattress and between Steve’s spreading thighs.

He settles himself within the v and, as Steve instructs, takes him in hand. “Good boy,” Steve moans, “now just stroke me for now, take that slick at the top, that’s it. Spread it down, you’re going to get a good taste of it soon.”

Eddie is enraptured with the feeling of the petal-soft skin of Steve’s cock wrapped around the band of steel in his hands. He licks his lips again and Steve chuckles softly, guiding him down with the hand still wrapped around his jaw. “Get a feel of it in your mouth, baby, that’s it.”

Eddie wraps his mouth and tongue around Steve’s cock, minding his teeth and taking it at a relaxed pace at first. He may not have done this before, but he knows that much and feels a kick of pride when Steve praises him for it. “I didn’t even have to tell you, and you’re doing so good, baby. Make sure you’re breathing through your nose. Now, slowly hollow your cheeks, honey, breathe in and take me at the same time."

Eddie does as instructed with an extra experimental twirl of his tongue, thick and sinuous and Steve makes a guttural sound, fingers biting into his jaw. The sharp hint of pain has Eddie moaning, mouth overflowing and spit running down Steve’s hard shaft.

Groaning, Steve drags his hand around to grip the hairs tight at the back of Eddie’s head, urging him down. “Do you think you can go deeper, sweetheart? Just to the back, just a little kiss.”

The greed running down Eddie's spine has his mouth opening wider, pushing deeper, eager to show Steve what he can do. He is full, so incredibly full and taking in Steve has him about to gag when Steve swiftly pulls him back.

Eddie’s almost about to frown—he’d nearly had it—when Steve’s words have him relaxing again, “Fuck, that was good. You did so good, baby, I’m proud of you. You want to try again?”

Eddie swallows him down without hesitation, this time relaxing his muscles and it works, he takes Steve to the back, throat convulsively swallowing and eyes starting to tear up, but he’s doing it and he’s rewarded by the breathy and long moan that breaks above him.

Steve praises him once more and the pleasure of it lights up every nerve in Eddie’s body, shooting down his spine and he grinds his dick against the bed again, whining at the friction that’s not quite enough, but still feeding into the keen lust thick within him. His cheeks hollow and a slick sound of pleasure echoes through the room, punctuated by Steve's ragged breaths as Eddie builds into a wet rhythm.

The world narrows to a pinpoint, all of Eddie's focus is on the leaking cock within his mouth. He's desperately swallowing, taking the hot length of him deeper, harder until he's gasping for breath and Steve's fist tightens, pulling him up and voice tight with control, “Eddie baby, what colour.”

Eddie blinks blearily at Steve, the tears in his eyes making the edges blurry. Steve repeats himself and Eddie smiles, a liquid pleasure filling him at remembering what Steve taught him weeks ago. He says hoarsely, the roughness of his voice surprising him, “Green, baby. So green.”

A proud smile spreads across Steve’s face and Eddie whimpers like the expression has a direct line to the heat in his gut, and maybe it does because Eddie is leaking in his pants and moving against the sheets under him in pure need.

“Do you want to come up here, let me touch you?”

Eddie shakes his head, already bending to take Steve back inside the warm cavern of his mouth, wanting to be surrounded and full of Steve, take him deep inside where he can’t escape, can’t leave Eddie again.

“Okay— fuck, you learn fast,” Steve curses as Eddie dedicates his mouth and tongue to their newfound job, fisting his free hand in the sheets to keep himself from harshly bucking up. If Eddie could smile, he would.

“Okay,” Steve repeats above, his voice forming into a rough command obvious to Eddie even as preoccupied as he is, “will you do something for me?” Eddie peers up, intrigued. “Take me by your hand, that’s right. Now slide the other under baby, and start touching yourself for me. But I want to see it. I want to see how good you feel.”

Eddie frowns, resting the heavy head on his tongue even as he moves to obey, trying to think of how he can do both at the same time with his lower body practically hidden from sight. He feels the stretch of his lips and he remembers: your best feature.

Swallowing and keeping Steve’s cock securely in his mouth, Eddie takes himself in hand; the relief of rubbing and pressing against himself almost making him sob, and turns his face up, keeping his eyes wide and honest.

Steve groans, his own eyes almost slitting at the sight, “You’re so smart, baby. So good for me, come on baby boy, get yourself off. I want to see the exact moment you come for me, okay sweetheart.” Eddie’s eyelashes flutter at Steve's sweet words, but he keeps staring up, the eye contact between them intimate and unwavering

The intensity of Steve’s gaze is piercing and Eddie dedicates himself to showing Steve how much he’s feeling, how good he’s feeling. The frisson of pleasure as he strokes his dick, the jerk he almost can’t contain as he twists his wrist.

“That’s it, baby,” Steve continues to rain praise down on him and Eddie can’t swallow much with his face tilted at this angle so the head becomes even more soaked, creating a wet, slippery suction sound that has Steve's hands tightening around Eddie's curls, a welcome sharp pain. The slickness aids his pistoning hand and Eddie moans at the bliss in Steve’s eyes even as he tugs at Eddie’s nape urgently, “Eddie. Come up, baby.”

But Eddie refuses to move and hums, speeding up to watch Steve gasp and cry out, throbbing and pulsing in his mouth, filling him until he has to pull back or choke, but swallowing down what he can.

The bitter musk fills him, nourishes him, strengthening him for long absent weeks without Steve. He feels the consumption like a ritual, spreading within as if Steve owns him inside and out and the thought is enough to have him tipping over, burying his head into the meat of Steve’s trembling thighs and spilling over his fist and sheets.

The pleasure stretches, blossoming sharply and eventually fading into a soft river, leaving Eddie giddily grinning against Steve’s skin, his brain lighting up in delight and happiness. “Welcome back, sweetheart,” he giggles.

Steve sighs contentedly above him, gently caressing his broad palm down Eddie’s hair, “Welcome back, indeed. You know that for me it was like I just saw you though, right?”

Eddie kisses his hip before shifting to pull up his boxers and wiggle up the bed, wiping himself clean and making sure to lean away from the mess under them. He props himself against the pillow with his elbow, head in hand to look down at the relaxed lines of Steve’s face, “Yeah, but it’s been weeks for me. So, it’s an event.”

Steve pops a concerned eye open, “I know, baby, I saw the calendar. Are you okay?”

Eddie trails a finger over the curls on Steve’s chest, not wanting to answer wholly while feeling this good, but he doesn’t want to lie either. Never wants to do something to break Steve’s trust in him. “I’m better now that you’re here,” he answers and remembering their conversation in the van he adds, “and much better after how good you made me feel a second ago.”

Steve smiles, knowing what he’s doing, “Thank you, but I only need the reassurance when we bring pain into the equation.” He quickly hides a yawn into the pillow.

“Are you rejecting my appreciation? Are you bored already? Because that was A plus, sweetheart. Blow jobs are definitely a permanent item on the menu now.”

“Well in that case…” Steve drawls before wincing as Eddie mischievously tugs on a curl. “Ow!” He bats him away and Eddie ducks a quick kiss down on his lips before jumping up, filled with energy. “You hungry?”

Steve moves a hand under his head, the naked lines of his body shifting in subtle movements to show the lean muscles through his biceps, highlighting the strength of his torso and legs, centring on the beauty of his soft cock resting against his thigh. With the morning light falling tenderly on him, Steve looks like a Renaissance painting full of love for the male form. “You’re not full already, sweetie?” He smirks up at Eddie through his lashes and it takes a full five seconds before Eddie can reboot.

He scowls, wagging his finger down at the delicious man in his bed, “You foul temptress. You shall not dissuade me from pancakes?”

“Was that a question?” Steve laughs, pushing his head into his elbow as his shoulders tremble from his amusement. Eddie shakes his head like a wet dog, trying to clear it from the fog of lust ready to overtake him again. He really is hungry, and not just for dick, he scowls inwardly at Steve.

“I’m making pancakes!” Eddie declares. “And they’re going to be green because you’re back and that means it’s a celebration.”

Steve bites his lips, unable to hide his smile. “Terrible green pancakes sound great, I’m in. Just let me have a shower first and I’ll join you.”

Eddie slips away, humming as he draws his hair into a bun at the top of his head and sets out to make breakfast in the already warm trailer. Wayne must have gone to work early to beat the heat since the couch is made up and he’s nowhere to be seen. Which is sad for him because Eddie’s pancakes are terrific, not terrible. The sound of the pipes turning starts in the background.

It’s all in the wrist, he muses as he measures the drops of dye into the batter, the green splattering onto the surface like paint onto a canvas. Too little and the colour is a sad, pale thing, but too much and they may as well be black. And while he’s not against the aesthetic, he tells himself, pouring a perfect circle into the hot pan, black is for cool leather and impressing hot boys at their ice cream jobs and green is for celebrating their return.

He feels the shift of air before Steve moves behind him, smelling shower fresh and sliding an arm around Eddie’s waist to nibble on the spot beneath his ear. Eddie hums, stretching his neck out like a morning offering to the gods before nudging said golden god out of the way with a sharp elbow. The pancakes are going to burn if he doesn’t flip them, and Steve is too distracting for Eddie’s own good.

Steve nips his earlobe before releasing him, moving to pour them coffee and sit on the other side of the counter. “So, Wayne’s progressed with Catherine then?”

“What’d you mean,” Eddie glances up.

Steve’s amused eyes regard Eddie over his mug, it’s white with a hand holding a flying Pegasus under a rainbow headed by there it goes / my last fuck. “I came in around two this morning and the couch was packed in. I’m usually too busy hitting the ground like a pancake to notice whether I’ll land on it if it’s unfolded, but I’m glad I didn’t have to test it.”

Eddie frowns, glancing at the window but the angle is wrong to see if Wayne’s truck is parked out front.

“It’s there,” Steve assures him, following his train of thought, “it’s just that Wayne isn’t.” He snickers, “Should we buy him a box of Trojans?”

Eddie rolls his eyes and hip bumps the drawer that still has the Box of Doom in it, “There’s plenty left.” Steve just hums, eyeing him with a subtle hunger and Eddie smiles down at the pancakes.

“You know, you said that you made sure to get checked regularly,” Eddie concentrates on flipping the cooked pancake onto Steve’s stack and pouring a neat circle for the next round. Steve makes a questioning sound and Eddie looks up, “Had you been seeing anyone before you came back?”

Steve’s fingers brush Eddie’s as he takes the plate, a wicked spark lighting his eyes. “No, and I was tested a couple of weeks before the Upside Down happened again.” His gaze drops to Eddie’s lips as he licks them nervously.

“And we’ve established that I’ve been as safe as a virgin nerd can be,” Eddie says.

“A very hot virgin nerd,” Steve counters with a cautious nod. “But yes, theoretically this sounds like a very safe scenario. Should I take this to mean…” He trails off, leaving the ball in Eddie’s court who nods, feeling almost dizzy with making the decision. “Let’s leave the Box of Doom for Wayne then,” he plates the last pancake, flips the stovetop off and walks around the counter to his stool.

Eddie doesn’t know why he feels embarrassed, it’s smart to take charge of his safety, but it still leaves him with burning cheeks as he stretches up to grab Mrs Butterworth.

Steve stops him from pouring with a gentle hand to his nape, tilting Eddie up so their eyes meet, his gaze intent and searching. “Are you sure?” The squirming feeling in Eddie subsides, grounded once more by Steve’s steady presence and thoughtfulness.

“Yes,” Eddie answers affirmatively, pressing a kiss against Steve’s spreading smile.

“Okay then,” Steve plucks the syrup out of Eddie’s hand, ignoring his squawk of protest to cover his green pancakes in sticky goodness. Eddie steals it back shortly after, which means that he tugs it from his hand just as he’s about to hand it over, but he feels that it counts.

Steve stares down at his pancake as he cuts into it, voice careful, “So, it’s summer.”

Speaking around a mouthful of pancake and syrup, Eddie says, “Yes, and it’s been as hot as Satan’s pit. Though Starcourt was a relief while it was around.” He squints at Steve’s profile, “Speaking of, what actually happened on your birthday?”

Steve huffs a laugh, taking a sip of coffee as he considers what to say. “We’ve already decided that you having a general idea of events in your past is a butterfly we’ve already stepped on, right?” He looks at Eddie thoughtfully and sighs, “You already know something happened, so I suppose it’s spilled milk like you said.”

Shrugging, Steve takes a bite of his pancake, swallowing before saying, “The Russians got us. I got smacked around a little, but the kids escaped. Though Robin didn’t,” he adds darkly, looking down and clearly lost in memory.

Eddie can’t say that the Russians doesn’t send a jolt of astonishment through him but he’s unsurprised when he feels only a mild ripple of shock at Steve’s description of being hurt. “This was when you were drugged and so you can’t get high anymore,” Eddie says slowly, trying to remember the patchwork of memories that Steve had stopped and started to reveal over the past eleven months.

Steve watches him carefully like he’s intrigued to see what Eddie has put together.

Eddie continues, gaze unfocused as he works out the puzzle, “And you were throwing up in a bathroom, coming out to her about your crush, because you’d just been tortured.”

Steve takes a sip of his coffee, “Mostly. I was able to keep their attention long enough that they technically didn’t get to Robin yet, not that it wasn’t a fucked up situation — she still wakes up screaming sometimes. But the ralphing was mostly due to the truth serum.”

Eddie closes his eyes against the gnawing making itself known in his gut, the beast fuelled by injustice shifting angrily at Steve’s words. He breathes around it, “So, your birthday—one of the better ones, I might add—was spent being tortured by enemies of the state, protecting Robin and the kids, and coerced to reveal your sexuality because you were forcibly drugged.”

“Well, when you put it that way it sounds bad,” Steve tries to joke. He stands up, squeezing Eddie’s shoulder in comfort as he moves into the kitchen to top up his coffee. Eddie shakes his head when he wordlessly offers to refill his mug by raising the carafe. “It wasn’t as bad as you’re making it sound, Eddie. I mean the Russian part was; I’m not trying to minimise that.”

Eddie shoots him a look of disbelief because that is exactly what Steve is doing.

“But the thing in the bathroom, that really is something I cherish. I know it sounds weird, but it bonded me and Robin for life. And I’m who I am now, a queer man able to accept that about himself and even have relationships — a boyfriend,” he says pointedly, “because that serum tipped me over the edge and helped me say the words.”

He looks at Eddie softly, “You know how hard that is. And I’m not sure how long it would have taken if it weren’t for that moment on the floor, spilling my guts.”

“Literally and figuratively,” Eddie finishes for him in a murmur. Another thought occurs to him, “Wait, are you Patrick Swayze? Are you and Robin the fucking Wolverines, fighting the Soviet Union on American soil? Is that who the big bad is?”

Steve scoffs, leaning against the kitchen sink, “No, baby. I am not a resistance leader fighting for this country’s freedom. The Russians were a one-time thing only, which is why I feel okay about telling you about them. The red, white and blue was left behind at Scoops.”

“Ah, Scoops. Yes. The scooping of ice cream,” Eddie feels his face flush at the reminder of his disastrous visits.

Steve eyes him like he has an inkling at the state of his thoughts. “Yes, my first foray into hospitality hell.” He turns around the counter, brushing close up behind Eddie as he settles into his seat, turning to face him in an echo of Eddie earlier, elbow on the counter and head propped up in his palm. “It’s amazing the people you meet in the food industry.”

Eddie zips his gaze away from the amused expression on Steve’s face, afraid that he’ll spontaneously combust into a ball of fire at his embarrassment. Steve doesn’t say anything, continuing to wait on Eddie.

“It was an accident!” he finally exclaims.

“Uh huh,” Steve acknowledges wryly, “and the second time?”

Eddie starts cutting into the leftover pieces of his pancake, mangling it into a mash of cooked batter and syrup. “I just didn’t want you thinking that I was this weird little gremlin guy that you’d have to avoid in the future.” He looks up, pointing the tines of his fork at Steve’s smile. “I did it for the timeline. You should be grateful!”

Steve gently redirects the fork away with one finger, “I was very grateful, you looked particularly good in that low-hanging top with your hair up all messy and cute.”

“Cute,” Eddie grumbles, stabbing the fork into the disgusting mess on his plate. “I was supposed to look cool and hot and like someone you’d like to talk to in the future.”

“You did,” Steve says, sincerity winning against the humour in his voice. “You were all long limbs and wide Bambi eyes. And those glimpses of your chest and the tattoos…” Steve draws a finger over Eddie’s shirt, tracing the spider and below it the demon head hidden by the soft material, eyes heated. “You looked like a tease. I think Robin ended up puking a little extra because I wouldn’t shut up about it.”

Eddie's mouth drops, “I was your crush?” His eyes widen as he tries to take in the revelation, the seismic shock rattling him so much that he’s surprised he doesn’t fall off the stool and land on his ass.

Steve laughs at his expression, “You think I chase after every person to apologise when I’ve pissed them off? I’d never stop running around Hawkins.”

“You didn’t piss me off,” Eddie says absently, trying to remember his exact outfit so he can replicate it later.

Steve hums, “Yeah, I wasn’t sure if you were telling me the truth there or just being kind. You looked really angry when I found you by the van.”

“No,” Eddie says, thinking about where he may have left his thin leather bands, he forgot to put them in the shallow bowl on his desk and they’d disappeared a week ago. “Though you did try to convince me to dump you, so that was entertaining.”

Satisfied at turning the tables back on him, he watches Steve gape, trying to find his words. “I was the douchebag asshole from the parking lot?”

Eddie snickers, draining his mug triumphantly, “You were very sweet. All concerned that I was being taken advantage of and trying to help me realise my self-worth.” Steve blushes, “I just thought you deserved better. You were fun and nice, and I figured you were dating some guy that was taking advantage of that.”

Eddie drops his mug to dramatically smack his head against the counter; he lands with a thud. “How quickly did you clock me as gay, Steve? How long have you known?”

He moans the last question into the hard surface and ignores Steve’s chuckles because his boyfriend may be fun too but he’s also mean. The silence stretches and Eddie tilts his head onto his cheek to see Steve’s lips pursed, staring down at his empty plate. “Why were you mad?” he asks softly.

“Ah,” Eddie says, straightening and trying to find the right words, he doesn’t want to hurt Steve. “I was maybe still struggling with the realisation that I had fucked up and wasn’t getting my diploma this year.”

Steve’s eyelashes flutter as if Eddie had confirmed his fears but he stays still, “And I should have told you.” His voice is small and Eddie feels guilty for ever having entertained the thought let alone allowing Steve to see a glimpse of it in his past.

“That’s not on you,” Eddie says firmly, but Steve continues to stare down at his plate, drawing patterns in the syrup with his fingertip. “I’m the one who didn’t hand in his homework and thought planning for campaigns was more important than studying for my tests.”

Steve looks up, worry shimmering in the depths of his eyes, “That’s why you were crying, isn’t it? Before I fell. You walked through the door looking so sad and I left you alone again. You found out you weren’t graduating.”

“Steve,” Eddie sighs, taking his clean hand. “You’re not to blame for me not putting in the work. And, yeah, I was upset. With you a little when I still had my head stuck up my ass because sometimes it’s easier to blame someone else than it is to blame myself. But not because it was true or right to do so. If anything, you’ve inspired me to try again.”

Steve’s lips tighten and he doesn’t look reassured, “You’re going to redo senior year?”

“Yeah, sweetheart,” Eddie smiles, trying to inspire the same in Steve. “I’m gonna save the world one scrape at a time, remember? And I need to graduate to get into nursing school for that to happen. So, I’m going to be a super senior and Principal Higgins is going to have to suck it when I take that piece of paper from his hands and flip him the double bird in victory.”

Steve’s lips tug up, but Eddie can see that his heart isn’t in it. He bites his own. Nearly doesn’t ask because he doesn’t want to hear Steve say yes, but he remembers their conversation after Thanksgiving and he remembers the reconciliation in the forest; he doesn’t want any miscommunication to trip them again. “Are you disappointed in me?”

Steve’s frown is swift and almost angry, “Never. Of course not. You tried really hard, Eddie — the entire time I was here in spring you were focused on improving your grades. You bumped up your maths scores and even pulled back on band practice to get your assignments in. I…” He hangs his head. “I thought maybe you would pass anyway. Despite the future,” he whispers.

“Sweetheart,” Eddie tugs on his hand trying to get Steve to look at him, trying to get a glimpse at his face to understand what he’s thinking. He’s reminded of when Steve’s at his slipperiest and it worries him. “Why do you sound like you’re confessing to something bad?”

The tendons in Steve’s jaw clench and unclench, “Because I shouldn’t want to change anything. And if I do, I should be concentrating on the big stuff. Not worried because my boyfriend might hate me for not telling him about an event that I know is going to upset him.”

Eddie sucks in a breath, “I wouldn’t hate you, Steve. And I didn’t either. I was a little annoyed, yes, but do you know when I was at my angriest with you in that parking lot?” Steve shakes his head, fallen hair helping to shield part of his face. “It’s when you told me to ditch you.” The air around Steve becomes still like he’s afraid to hear what Eddie will say next. “I thought, what do you know Past Steve? How dare you talk about my boyfriend that way.”

Steve snorts out a laugh, clearly despite himself as he brings a hand up to his mouth in surprise. He glances at Eddie through his hair, “Yeah?”

Nodding earnestly, Eddie tucks those bothersome strands behind Steve’s ear. “I nearly told you to take a hike because I was so vexed that you’d try to trash my boyfriend that way.”

“I wanted to ask you out,” Steve admits softly, “I was biased, I’ll admit: I wanted you to ditch the other guy so I could ask you out on a date. Not that I even knew how to approach something like that back then. I was only just starting to admit to myself that I didn’t only think you were a standup guy and, when you were backing out of Scoops the second time, that I didn’t just want to tease you; I wanted to put my arms around you.” He winks, a goofy gesture that tells Eddie that Steve’s equilibrium is restoring itself, “Maybe feel you up a little before taking you into the backroom to make out.”

Eddie shivers at the images that conjures, thinking of Steve in his little sailor’s outfit. “Maybe it’s a good thing I didn’t know,” he admits, clearing his voice from the rough edge that it’s taken. “That shorts and tube socks combo really did it for me.”

Steve laughs, wiping a hand over his dry eyes. “I told Robin that I made the uniform look good.”

Eddie stands, bullying his way into the v of Steve’s legs, “It did, sweetheart. I nearly swallowed my tongue when I finally got a good look at you. You know,” he starts, trailing a teasing finger down Steve’s chest. “I’m going to be a nurse. You have a sailor’s outfit. We could always recreate that victory photo.”

“The one where the sailor dips the nurse after they won the Second World War?”

Eddie purrs, leaning in to nibble Steve’s earlobe whose hands come up to palm Eddie’s hips, “See, having an interest in history does come in handy.”

Steve’s breath stutters at his ministrations and Eddie’s about to suggest that they take advantage of the empty trailer when he remembers the book in his bedside drawer. He pulls swiftly away, Steve looking lost with his hands still raised in the air and eyes glassy with arousal.

“Wait here,” Eddie proclaims urgently, smacking Steve on the chest as if that will make him stay still.

Steve blinks, “Okay.”

In the few seconds it takes Eddie to fly into his room and come back Steve has already started to stack their dishes for washing. He places them carefully in the sink when Eddie pushes the red and white wrapped present to his chest, “Happy birthday, Stevie.”

A broad smile overtakes Steve’s face, chasing away the last of the clouds hanging about him. “I wasn’t even here,” he protests even as he starts to carefully peel back the decorative paper.

“That doesn’t mean you don’t get to celebrate it. It’s happening, Steve, whether you like it or not. You’re not wriggling your way out of birthday festivities anymore, not with me around.”

He looks up wryly, “You and Robin are either going to drive each other crazy or team up to make my life miserable.” Eddie ignores the last word, knowing that Steve doesn’t mean it. He can see it in the gleam of his teeth and the happiness sparking in his eyes.

Steve looks down at the cover with a silver and gold elephant that has a pearl riding on its back and starts to laugh. “It was for the asshole!”

Satisfied with the warm glow he’d restored to Steve’s cheeks, Eddie leans in to press a kiss against his smile, “Hey, that’s my boyfriend you’re talking about.”

 

 

Chapter 23: Another Boy Put in the Box

Summary:

Last chapter, Eddie enthusiastically greeted Steve's return with a blow job and green pancakes, in that order. He also reassured Steve that failing senior year is on Eddie and that his most annoyed moment was when Present Steve advised them to break-up.

This chapter, Wayne is cautious at Steve's sudden reappearance, Steve continues to show that he is uneasy at coming events, and Eddie tells Steve about his childhood.

Notes:

cw: no explicit description, but Eddie talks about a childhood where he was physically abused and abandoned by his father.

The only surprise that Wayne shows when he returns that morning to the trailer is a pause in his step as he walks through the door.

Outside the sun is glaring in its bright summer heat and the air he brings in does little to relieve the stifling warmth already building inside. Wayne’s eyes flick to Eddie and Steve seated at the stools by the kitchen, bent over the history book together as Steve shows him the section about Egyptian eyeshadow.

“Steve,” he says with an acknowledging nod.

Steve stumbles to stand up and Eddie sighs a little, wondering if he’s going to get awkward around his uncle again. It’s been less than a day apart for Steve, but he suspects that he’s aware of exactly how long he’d been gone and how odd it must look to Wayne.

“Wayne,” he says in reply. “Uh, if it’s okay I thought I’d come back for a bit.”

Wayne pulls out his keys and wallet, hanging the chain on the hook and throwing the leather onto the coffee table. “As long as you boys have made up, that’s fine.” Steve shifts on his feet uneasily, glancing down at Eddie in confusion.

“He thinks you left because we broke up or something,” Eddie explains before grimacing. “I’d just found out about graduation and you weren’t here, so I looked a bit of a mess.”

“That’s one way of putting it,” Wayne says, moving into the kitchen and pouring himself a coffee. Steve sits gingerly down on his stool, looking stricken as he turns back to Eddie. “I knew you weren’t okay.”

Eddie shrugs, grabbing his hand to press what comfort he can into it, “It’s not your fault. I know if you had a choice, you wouldn’t leave, and you certainly wouldn’t have left at that moment. I don’t blame you.”

Wayne grunts in the background, leaning against the counter as he raises his mug to his lips, “Thought maybe you’d fought about it, specifically.” The sunlight glints against the white porcelain.

“About Eddie not graduating?” Steve frowns, a hint of disapproval winding its way through as he regards Wayne, “You may have wanted something different for him, but that doesn’t mean Eddie’s a failure or something. And he’s going to get it anyway, next year.” Eddie beams at Steve’s unwavering faith.

The silence stretches for a long moment, but the tension subtly radiating from Wayne eases as he says gruffly, “Welcome back, son.” He takes a sip of his coffee, “Did you catch the Cardinals last week, they’re looking good for the matchups.”

Eddie lets out a breath, feeling like a damsel avoiding the gunfight at the O.K. Corral. Steve’s brow is still furrowed like he’s about to say something about what he thinks is Wayne’s attitude about Eddie graduating, but Eddie pulls at his hand. He’ll explain Wayne’s doublespeak to him later: this conversation had been the equivalent of a father giving the bride away.

Steve shakes his head, “I’ve not had a chance to keep up with the game.”

Wayne’s eyes squint slightly like he’s weighing Steve’s words, “Thought you were looking forward to the Cubs showing me what’s what, is what you said.”

Eddie watches the exact moment that Steve forces himself to relax his shoulders before lightly saying, “They will. I can get up to speed now that I’m here.” He smiles, “Our usual this weekend?”

Wayne nods slowly, a small furrow between his brow the only indication that he’s not buying what Steve’s selling. It’s the exact look he used to give Eddie when he’d lie to his uncle, saying that he was okay, nothing to see here.

But this is a secret more complex than a sad and angry boy picking fights and hiding away in his bedroom, so Eddie decides to intervene before Wayne brings out the big guns. “And young man,” he says loudly and suddenly. Wayne barely moves except for a shifting of his focus towards Eddie.

He wags his finger with a playful scowl, “Where have you been all night? We were worried sick.” Steve snickers into his fist and Eddie’s preens a little.

Wayne raises an unimpressed brow, finishing his mug. “Where I’ve been for the past fortnight, son. Hasn’t noticed once.” He tsks, sliding a wry eye to Steve who shares a commiserating look with him, the duplicitous bastard. “It took you noticing, didn’t it?”

Steve nods, “Sorry, didn’t mean to out you if you were keeping it secret.”

“No, nothing like that,” Wayne says, rinsing out his mug. “This one was too wrapped up in his business to notice anything beyond his nose.”

Eddie’s mouth opens in outrage. “I’m observant! I’ll have you know I’m a very observant man. You have to be as a dungeon master. You wouldn’t believe the things I notice.”

Wayne and Steve share a look again. “He missed you,” Wayne says simply, and Steve’s face just melts. He turns back to Eddie with such a sappy look on his face that he can’t hold it against him. Nevertheless, when his uncle heads to the bathroom, Eddie quickly rounds into the kitchen and opens up the drawer.

“Uncle Wayne,” he sings. Wayne looks back and deftly catches the box of Trojans that Eddie throws at him, he looks down at it with an eyebrow raised, pensive and waiting for Eddie to explain himself. “No glove no love,” Eddie says, grinning through his teeth.

Wayne's mouth moves down in a thinking expression and he nods, “Thanks, Eds.” He turns, whistling as he closes the bathroom door, leaving Eddie once again with the conviction that he wants to be his uncle when he grows up.

Trailing a hand against his lower back and pressing a kiss to his forehead as he walks past, Steve says, “Better luck next time, babe.” Eddie nods before following him in; one day he’ll make Wayne break, one day.

 

---

 

Despite the minor bump of Wayne’s protectiveness over Eddie and his uncle’s subtle concern for Steve about his absence, Steve slides right back into the rhythm of the trailer as if he’d never left. The only real difference lying in the sweltering heat as July tumbles into August.

The white and turquoise aluminium siding of the trailer reflects the harshest rays of the sun, Eddie thinks gratefully, but it does little to stop the place from slowly turning into an oven by the time night falls.

He wipes at the back of his damp neck as he walks into the living area one late evening, catching sight of Steve standing by the window, looking out. The room is empty with Wayne at Catherine’s tonight and the bright shadows of the moon along with distant flickering lights from their neighbours are the only illumination on Steve’s face.

Trailer absent of Wayne, Steve forgoes his shirt, leaving the broad planes of his chest on display. The power of his naked shoulders only slightly distracts Eddie from the sinewy strength of his bare legs and feet under their shared boxers. Steve stands silent and still, face carved in stone as he stares out into the dark that envelopes Forrest Hills.

Eddie takes a moment to appreciate the vision, greedily watching a bead of sweat trail down and pool at Steve’s collarbone. His eyes are full, but his mouth is hungry. A common affliction now that Steve’s back and one that they’ve taken advantage of while Wayne has been at work.

With no school yet and very little to do but relax and enjoy each other’s company again, Eddie has swiftly moved beyond his original nomenclature as a safe virgin nerd, even if he technically retains the v-card.

It's all been hot, as expected, and pleasurable, as hoped, but Eddie had been surprised at how full of fun and laughter their times together have been. But maybe he shouldn’t be. From the very start, the connection Eddie had felt towards Steve had been more than a simple appreciation for a good-looking guy. It had been his sweetness and humour as well as the deep river of emotions underneath; all of it drawing Eddie to Steve as inevitable as a gravitational force.

Steve, for his part, seems grateful to fall into that deep well along with him. Sometimes because the sex simply feels good; Eddie has a kaleidoscope of visions filled with the lines of Steve’s face relaxing after they fool around, his body and voice turning loose and calm.

Other times, there’s an intensity behind Steve’s eyes and hands, a barely hidden force that drives him to touch and taste Eddie, spread him out and drive him to distraction in a way that feels like the best sort of punishment.

It's odd though, Eddie thinks, sidling up behind Steve and winding an arm around his middle, the heat from their bodies melding together. Because Steve acts like Eddie will revoke his permission at any point, like he needs to take Eddie as much as he can while he can before it all slips away from between his fingers. An hourglass pouring with sand that only Steve can see.

Eddie kisses the bare skin of his shoulder while reaching to play with the soft curls above his stomach, “What are you looking at?”

Steve shifts against the length of his forearm propped on the wooden frame, fingers drumming. “Max Mayfield is going to move in soon.”

“The girl you mentioned at the bookstore: Billy’s sister? I thought she was a Hargrove,” he says, surprised.

His other arm wrapping around to rest on Eddie’s hand, Steve leans his head against him. Eddie feels the rumble of his words through to his bones. “Yeah. Her mother leaves Billy’s dad or he leaves her, I’m not sure. They weren’t blood or anything, they were stepsiblings. Whatever happens, Max is going to move into that trailer right over there.”

He points to the empty brown and white single wide across the way. It’s to the left of the path that Steve generally takes into the woods and Eddie wonders now if that has always been on purpose.

“You worried she’s going to see you? Maybe ask questions.”

Against his cheek, Eddie can feel Steve’s jaw clench even as he hums affirmatively. “I’m worried for her too.” He steps back, still loosely held in Eddie’s arms, but back leaning against the wall. A truck turns the corner, its white beams revealing the furrows of his brow before the room drops into shadows again.

“I listened to what you said,” Steve says. “Read that book and tried to stop by a few times. But I don’t know… I don’t think I was what she needed.” He grimaces, head falling back against the wall with a soft thunk. “Or maybe I just didn’t try hard enough.”

Eddie frowns, “Now that I find hard to believe.”

But Steve only shrugs, eyes shimmering with memories and regret. Chewing on his tongue, Eddie thinks about how he can offer this without activating Steve’s paranoia about the timeline.

“You know, I’ve always had a soft spot for lost little lambs. And I probably would have stopped by the first go around anyway, but this time at least I can also tell you how’s she’s doing,” he says, thinking that it’s not a complete fabrication because if he’d known Max’s story then he would have made a point to talk to her at least once in the original timeline.

He ignores the uneasy thought that he couldn’t have known about her situation if he hadn’t seen Steve at The Bookshelf last month. Which he’d only been at because he was buying a birthday present for the Steve in front of him. But the trailer park is a small place and full of gossip, it wouldn’t be unusual for Eddie to have heard a bastardised version about the Mayfields.

Mulling over the potentials of choice and change, he almost misses the weighted look Steve directs at him. “You’ve always been good at talking,” he muses quietly. Eddie cocks his eyebrow at him in humour, “Is this another thing about my mouth?”

Steve laughs, sliding down to the floor, back still against the wall and dragging Eddie down by the hand next to him.

“No,” he says, leaning to brush a thumb against Eddie’s lower lip, his hazel eyes dark pools in the shadows of the moonlight streaming through the window. “I was just remembering that first time when we sat down at my place.”

“And you gave me the bum’s rush out of the Harrington home, if I recall correctly,” Eddie shoots Steve a wry look of his own. Steve playfully pinches his lip before letting go, leaning back out of his immediate space, but still close. Their clasped hands lay on the ground between them. “I did, but not because I wanted you to leave.”

Eddie raises his eyebrow sceptically.

“I didn’t,” Steve insists before confessing, “I was sort of fascinated. You were such a joker in class or full of loud speeches in the hallways and I thought you were funny, but I don’t think I’d given you much thought beyond it at that point.”

Letting his head fall back, Eddie turns onto his cheek, a soft fondness forming for the little insights Steve has started to give him about their early interactions. “And then?”

A smile tugs at the corner of Steve’s mouth, “And then you forced me into the nurse’s office.” He ignores Eddie’s snort of amusement. “Bullied me into letting you drive me home. And then listened to me ramble on about getting my head smashed in.”

“Sounds like a great first date,” Eddie drawls.

Steve shakes his head in amusement, “No, there’s no way I’m even letting you think to call that anything near a date for us. But you were so striking on those stairs, Eddie. You sat there, not looking at me and bared something. I knew that at least.”

Eddie’s heart catches: Steve had seen through him even as way back then. Nothing much between them but Eddie’s confusion and Steve’s distrust, but he had seen into the meat of him, nonetheless.

Eddie flicks his eyes away, staring at the tiers of Wayne’s novelty mugs hanging above the couch and feels a need press within him. A steady leak against something. And Eddie doesn’t know if it will overflow and flood him or whether it’ll feed a seed waiting to sprout. “I did. Bare something that is.”

Steve’s hand tightens around his, but he remains silent, waiting for Eddie to continue.

He purses his lips at the familiar pain, looking but not seeing the shadowed wall across from them. “I was hurt. A lot. As a kid.”

He hears Steve’s throat click but concentrates on the brown and white trucker's cap hanging under the last shelf: Steve’s hat. “Mama died, killed in a hit and run. One day there and the next…” He swallows around the sorrow, still sharp after all these years. The grief had never gotten smaller, he thinks. He’d just gotten larger.

Eddie breathes around it, “And I don’t think he knew what to do with me.” He glances at Steve, his eyes are quiet and understanding. Eddie remembers a similar look over the kitchen counter: Steve full of patience for whatever, whenever Eddie wanted to share more. But it’s this that has always been the hardest truth to admit: “I was never right.”

Steve frowns, anger stirring on his behalf already. Eddie just shakes his head, “Not for him anyway. I wasn’t interested in mud and sports and… I don’t know—” He throws a frustrated hand into the air. “Fucking stealing cars, I suppose.”

Steve’s jaw unclenches, “Sounds like he was the one that wasn’t right.”

“He wasn’t,” he admits, head falling against the wall again. “I know that now. But it took a long time, a lot of love from Wayne, and there are still days that I can’t accept it. Can’t accept me, Steve.” Eddie’s lips tremble and his nose pinches, but he refuses to let any tears fall for that bastard who had called himself his father. “But I wasn’t the one who was wrong,” he vows into the heavy quiet.

Raising Eddie's clenched fist, Steve presses a soft kiss against it, and he's reminded that he has people that agree with him. Wayne. Steve. They want Eddie as the person he is, not the man his father thought he should be. It gives him strength; nourishes the seed, he thinks, rather than overflowing the bucket.

It’s enough to help Eddie meet Steve’s gaze even as his eyes cloud over in memory. “I remember shaking. The night he found my mags. I thought that cutting up the pictures and pasting them into a notebook would be enough, but he found them. Of course, he found them,” Eddie laughs bitterly.

“But I stood there shaking so hard that I almost vibrated off the floor,” Steve follows his hand as he raises it like a balloon floating from his heart to above his head. “Just up and away, hoping that I’d never land my feet on the ground again because then he couldn’t get me, because surely this time was it. This was as far as little Eddie Munson was going to run because, at that moment, his eyes were the flattest I’d ever seen.”

Eddie clicks his tongue scornfully, mouth just as dry today as it had been that night. “Not like some bullshit about a shark’s eyes, because at least they fucking hunt to eat, to survive. No, they were flat, assessing: Where can I hide the body?”

Steve sucks in a shocked breath, but Eddie continues, letting the poison pour out at their feet. “How long until the school reports him truant? How likely is it that the cops will believe he’s a runaway? And something must have been wrong in the calculations because he didn’t kill me that night. He gave me five minutes.”

Eddie lets loose a strangled laugh, “Five fucking minutes to pack my shit he said. But I still didn’t understand.” He looks at Steve, trying to make him understand it. “I could see Pop murdering me. Just straight snuffing out my life like it was nothing. But abandoning me? I never saw it coming. So, I packed some clothes, threw in my latest X-men comic and a toothbrush, because I thought…”

He bites his lip savagely at the memory, the pain clearing the burning behind his eyes. “I don’t know, like I was going to a sleepover or something? But it was to Wayne’s. Told me to get out of the car, and made sure to give me a wide berth because he was disgusted. Couldn’t get far enough away, didn’t want to even breathe the same air as me. Gave Wayne an ultimatum: take me in or I’d be hitting the streets. Either way, he was done with it. It. Like I was some feral diseased monster.”

“Eddie,” Steve leans in, one hand cupping his jaw and the other gently pulling his lip out from under his teeth. He tastes blood on his tongue. “Do you think that?” His eyes are searching, deep with concern but inviting Eddie to lay his burdens down at his feet. To share them, Eddie realises.

He can see that he could tell Steve to take him away from all this pain right now and he’d find a way to do it. It makes the strings that had pulled at him tightly slacken. One less heavy weight from the past.

Eddie shakes his head because, for the most part, he doesn’t. There are moments when he’s not sure. And there are times when he skates too close to becoming an angry creature like his father. But he is not diseased like he had said that night on the porch, only a few steps away from where they sit now.

“No,” he says honestly, and Steve’s shoulders drop an increment in relief. “But I’m so angry sometimes, sweetheart. It worries me.”

The shame of it burns through him, ugly and bright. “I feel like if I stop holding myself in, for even a moment I’m liable to light up the fucking world. Just start punching and not stop until I’m on the other side.”

“Baby, no,” Steve shakes his head, spearing his fingers through Eddie’s hair in a gesture of comfort. He resists nuzzling into it because in this he is right: Eddie has a creature fuelled by envy and injustice buried in his body and with very little provocation it will stir. Steve hasn’t seen it only because things have been so good between them, but Eddie will slip one day. He’s bound to.

“You don’t understand, Stevie. I am. I get so angry.” He sends him a beseeching look, trying to make him understand how deeply the rot goes. “That time I took you home because you were concussed? I’d just gotten into it with Tommy in the hallways. Called me a predatory faggot and I nearly sunk my fist in his gut just to take the edge off.” He shakes a little at the memory of how close he’d come to walking back and doing just that.

Steve’s eyes narrowed the longer Eddie talked until he pursed his lips asking, “And did you?” Eddie narrows his own eyes back, knowing what he’s getting at, but checkmate you loving fucker: “No, but only because I got myself under control.”

Steve opens his mouth, but Eddie starts shaking his head before he can say it. “No, that’s exactly why I fear losing it.”

“Okay,” Steve says, gaze still narrowed and showing an edge of heat, “You going to smack me around if I don’t do what you say?”

Eddie recoils, horrified at the ugly words, “What the shitting Christ do you mean by that?”

“Tell me, Eddie,” Steve presses, his voice almost hard, “when the me in the past came and found you after Scoops when you were angry—and don’t try some crap about you being just annoyed—you were angry. Did you wish you could smack me? Just once to take the edge off.” Eddie feels bile rise in his throat at even the thought, “How could you think I would do that?”

“I don’t, baby, but that’s what you’re getting at, isn’t it? Turning into your father. Becoming abusive because you’ve had a — I don’t know, what were his excuses, Eddie? Shitty day? Shitty son?”

The truth of it is so raw that Eddie flinches at the pain of it, feeling Steve’s words flay something open and spill out. It’s more of that poison, he thinks distantly as Steve continues pressing down. “You’ve had plenty of shitty days, Eddie. And you don’t take that out on Wayne. There’ll be plenty of times I’ll get on your nerves, so is it that? You think you’re going to lose it one day and hit me?”

“I…” Eddie stutters around lips turned suddenly numb; he had thought that, he realises. The poison leaking away enough to see through the muck.

On the surface he’d never entertain the idea, but underneath… In a dark place, under the bitter creature, he’d been waiting to turn into Bobby Munson. Waiting for the moment that the worst, most ugly parts of him couldn’t be hidden any longer. And Wayne and Steve, Jeff and the guys, all of them would be able to see the ugly angry monster that deserves to be abandoned by them.

He blinks, the shock of his realisation turning the shadows of the room inside out, the angle of the world distorting for a moment until he locks onto that stupid hat. The ugly piece of bacon with the ridiculous phrase embroidered on it that makes him want to laugh at Steve every time he dons it.

Not once, Eddie thinks.

Never ever, follows swiftly after.

He turns back to Steve and watches the hardness recede as Eddie softly shakes his head. “I’d rather break my fingers.” Watches Steve’s chest expand as if it’s the first full breath he’s taken since Eddie started talking.

“In that case, baby. Will you believe me when I say that I trust in your control?”

He takes Eddie’s hand, pressing a firm kiss against it again and Eddie feels the touch of it to his thawing heart. “You’re not going to hurt me. You’d never hurt someone small and vulnerable like your father did. You’re not him.”

Eddie laughs abruptly, struck by the irony of Steve having to say this when Eddie has been telling himself the same for all these years. He just hadn’t allowed it to seep through into all places, he thinks sadly. “I know that. I do,” he repeats to the hint of scepticism that plays at the edges of Steve’s expression.

He remembers Steve’s description of figuring out that he’s queer. “You know that box with the little you in it?”

Steve frowns but nods cautiously, “That part of me that I’d locked away to forget about.”

Eddie’s smile is small, but genuine, “I think I had a little me locked away too. So, I know. I do. That I’m better than him. I’m more than him. But a part of me got forgotten, I think. In the mess of it all.”

Steve’s face breaks open, an expression of understanding and the commiseration of someone who gets it. “Life gets pretty messy sometimes.”

“And fast,” Eddie grumbles, shifting to rest his head on Steve’s broad shoulders. His arm comes up to pull Eddie into his side as he presses a kiss down on his hair. Snuggling in closer, Eddie rubs his face against him, taking comfort in the rasp of his cheek against the silk of Steve’s skin.

“And fast,” Steve agrees.

“It’s not just going to simply go away, is it?” Eddie says with a sigh, thinking of all the effort he had put into reaching those good parts of himself so far.

“It will though,” Steve counters. “Didn’t you say that it took time? That’s why you told me to keep checking in. But you said it like you knew that it’d get better.”

“It will,” Eddie confirms, eyes feeling heavy all of a sudden like he’d let loose the tears that he had held back. But the rest of him feels lighter, he realises with relief. Like he’d put down a burden he hadn’t even realised he'd been holding, as Eddie had said to Steve after he came out to him.

And this is just another burden that he’s shaken loose, Eddie thinks.

It had gotten him unawares. Enough that he’d been about to trip into that rumbling crevice under his feet, but Steve had caught him. He’d grabbed his hand before his nose hit the ground with a splat. And Eddie had grown a little taller for it, another spurt allowing him to step over the crevice.

He had bent for a moment, Eddie thinks, but he stands unbroken once more.

 

 

Notes:

strength and growth is always in our grasp and, like Steve, you can lend others that power in their times of need too 💚

Chapter 24: Blessed Ruins

Summary:

Last chapter, Eddie came to understand that despite being subject to his abuse, Eddie is not the angry man that his father was and he will never hurt the people he loves in the same way.

This chapter, Eddie is itching to take their sexual relationship further but Steve insists on romance first.

Notes:

folks, I started a new job in an entire new profession this week and it's been hard. worthwhile, but hard.

it's the end of my first week and I'm rewarding myself by releasing the next chapter early while knowing that it's a low-reading time on ao3. nonetheless, for those reading: please enjoy and I love you 💚💫💚

Knees under the coffee table, Eddie sits on the carpet floor while squinting down at his drawing in the fading light of the trailer. The sun has dipped low in the outside sky, casting the room into shades of waning golds and oranges, edged away by the darkening shadows. Through the screen door he can hear the sound of the cicadas, a thrumming beat urging on the heat of the night.

The couch is comfortable against Eddie’s back and he has time to kill, thankfully, because he’s not sure that the webbed ears look right on the club’s mascot for their membership poster. He carefully rubs at it with the eraser, aiming for a more tapered look.

Since he’s returning to Hawkins High, Eddie will continue to lead as dungeon master, but they need new members what with Randy and Sarah having graduated in spring.

The bulb flickers on above him, bringing the room into sharp relief and he whips his head at Steve standing by the light switch, throwing out a playful hiss for good measure.

Steve rolls his eyes, ambling over to look down at the picture of the red demon framed by a flaming sword and swinging iron flail. “You ever think that people might get the wrong message about the club from that?” His expression is cloudy.

Eddie lays his hands over the devil’s bat ears, “Hush baby, don’t listen to him.” He sniffs up at Steve, nose high, “The Hellfire Club is for persons of quality and, as such, needs a suitable mascot. I did consider changing the name to the Hell Fire Caves, but Jeff said it sounded like a yeast infection. And frankly, I learned more about his sister that afternoon than I ever wanted to know.”

Steve shakes his head in defeat, dropping beside Eddie with his arm slung on the couch behind his shoulders. He starts playing with the long strands of Eddie’s hair, “I like your butterflies more,” he says, looking at the vest slung over the couch arm.

When shown it a few days earlier, he hadn’t teared up at the cocoon and butterfly embroidery on the bottom edge of the denim, which had been one of Eddie’s predictions. But he had ruefully laughed and kissed Eddie while saying he loved it, which had been the other. Later though, Eddie had caught him thumbing at the small insect murmuring something about not being sure if he remembered them.

Eddie chose to ignore the quiet statement since, much like his occasional muttered pacing, he knows Steve hadn’t intended for Eddie to hear it.

Steve reaches over to the side table, picking up his small piece of oak and the thin, tapered knife Wayne had given him. Brows thoughtfully furrowed he focuses on delicately whittling away slivers of wood from the grain. It looks like a small figure standing on a rectangular board, but it has four knobs underneath it; Eddie wonders whether they’re supposed to slot in somewhere to keep the wood upright.

“What are these?” He lightly fingers the round bumps.

Steve’s tranquillity ripples at the question and he grimaces while continuing to carefully carve around the figure’s neck, slimming it while adding light dips to indicate long hair. “It’s supposed to be a skateboard. Spheres have gotten easier, but these are small and I’m having trouble getting into the grooves without chopping the damn things off."

Steve suddenly winces in pain and his hand spasms, a small, involuntary movement but enough to unexpectedly cleave the head from the body. He looks down at the severed neck, “Shit.”

Despite his frustration, Steve drops the knife and raises his free hand to his face; Eddie asks, concerned, “Headache?” It’s the second time this week.

Steve hums in agreement, tipping his head back and rubbing at the bridge of his forehead, “It’s fine, I just didn’t drink enough water today.” The heat had been hitting him hard, Eddie knows. The trailer doesn’t exactly have the best air conditioning and Steve runs hot already.

It had continued to gift Eddie with a half-naked Steve most of the time, and a naked Steve in his bed the other half so, if it weren’t for the headaches, he normally wouldn’t complain.

Steve must have an idea of where his thoughts have taken him because he eyes Eddie suspiciously, taking in his covetous gaze as it travels down the sleek skin of Steve’s neck to the broad planes of his chest.

Eddie licks his lips, thinking of that hair under his tongue or, he remembers, shifting restlessly in his seat, Steve’s mouth on him earlier. He’d held Eddie down at first, a strong weight on top of him and forbidden him to do anything but keep his hands clasped above his head.

Steve had left a pattern from top to bottom of suckled bruises, branding Eddie in a series of hot, throbbing aches. By the time Steve had swallowed him down with two firm fingers stretching his ass, Eddie had briefly seen God. All hail the divine, indeed.

Steve smirks, “It looks like the heat’s gotten to you too.” He slides his fingers to thread more thoroughly in Eddie’s hair, tugging powerfully on his scalp. The sharp ache of it has his mouth falling open as he exhales against the pull of arousal, reminded of Steve guiding his mouth over his cock, fingers tight in his hair and holding him back when all he’d wanted to do is swallow and choke and take in Steve forever.

Eddie pushes it away though because he’s been thinking about this and he wants to get it right. “You know, there’s still some things we haven’t done.”

Pulling Eddie closer by the fist in his hair, Steve nibbles at his mouth. “There’s a lot we haven’t done, baby. What do you mean specifically?” Eddie shudders as Steve pulls his bottom lip in to suckle on, the slick sensation helping to steadily harden him inside his drawers.

It triggers a corresponding ache, and he draws back because he has thought about this and he’d really like to do something about it. Steve has licked, sucked, and touched all over and inside of Eddie with his tongue and hands, but, despite many, many orgasms, he still feels empty and wanting in one place.

“I thought we could— I mean, I want to…” Eddie trails off, not sure there’s an appropriate way to say ride your dick. He shakes his head, exasperated at himself because he’s no blushing bride, especially not after all the ways that he and Steve have had each other, but he feels an unexpected surge of that nervousness again.

Steve’s eyes flash like he'd heard Eddie say it anyway. Still, he’s not surprised when Steve clarifies, first pressing a hard kiss against Eddie’s mouth and then pulling back completely, “You want to go all the way? Do you want me or do you want me to take you?”

Eddie blinks, not having thought there was an option. “Do you have a preference?” he asks.

Steve shrugs, unconcerned, “Pleasure’s pleasure. I generally top, but I like it both ways. There’s something about taking someone in, having them inside me and filling me up…” He laughs, gaze darkening as he takes in Eddie’s expression, “But then, I think you’d like that too, hey, baby.”

Eddie squirms, nodding shakily. “That, uh, sounds really good.”

Steve regards him for a moment before coming to a decision. He drops his hand from Eddie’s hair, which has Eddie half-forming a pout. “How about this? Wayne’s out on Friday. Why don’t you let me take you on a date?”

Eddie shifts back, disappointed that the arousal pooling in his centre seems to have nowhere to go tonight. “A date? What, like you pick me up from the bedroom?” He laughs at the image and is startled when Steve nods, lips firming as he becomes more convinced.

“Yes. I mean, it has to be in the trailer, sorry.” He grimaces. “But could you go out for a couple of hours and then come back? We’ll make a night of it.” Eddie blinks, thinking that it sounds like a lot of effort when the bed is fifteen feet away.

Steve tilts his head beseechingly, “Please? I’d like us to have a nice night.”

Eddie looks at those long lashes and sweet hazel eyes and caves, it won’t hurt anything, and he suspects that Steve’s romantic nature has once again reared its head. “Okay,” he holds out his palms with a laugh, “sounds great. I’ll go to Jeff’s for a bit and come back at seven.”

His smile widening in anticipation, Steve presses a kiss against Eddie’s forehead before scrambling up. “I just have to check something.”

Eddie simply sits there, willing his dick down and shaking his head after seeing that Steve has his cookbook out and open in the kitchen already.

His amusement over Steve’s push for romance lasts all up until the point that he’s pacing in Jeff’s basement, dragging a mirror out from behind a stack of boxes. It screeches against the grey concrete.

Once Eddie stands in front of it he quickly brushes at his jeans, somehow a smudge of chalk had made its way onto the black denim. Pursing his lips as he regards his hair, he looks through the mirror at Jeff strumming on his guitar behind him. “Hair up or down?”

Jeff squints at him, “I can’t believe you won’t tell me who he is.” He plays a few chords from I Heard It Through the Grapevine, scowling in mock disappointment. “Some best friend you are.”

Eddie thinks of Steve saying he’d wanted to embrace him from behind at Scoops and starts to make a loose bun. “Up, I think. He likes my neck.”

Jeff blows a raspberry at him, “Now you’re just bragging.”

Eddie turns with his hands still in his hair, grinning. “I am, aren’t I?” He hums along as Jeff continues to play Marvin Gaye, trying to work out why that jittery feeling has returned.

He eyes his reflection while wiping at the black liner that’s smudged under his eyes, he shouldn’t be nervous because he looks damn good. All black and silver with glimpses of his chest tattoos; though, he thinks, eyeing its blank canvas, his right arm would look better with some ink.

Swivelling, he checks his ass and, yes, these are tight enough to look like he’s got something other than a pancake back there. Smiling to himself, he bites his lip. The anxiety briefly flitting away under the wicked memory of cleaning himself under the shower. Fingering himself open in the steamy water, anticipation building along with arousal in a way that’s been simmering through him since.

The memory of it reminds him of how official tonight is: he and Steve aren’t just falling into bed together, even the first time at the drive-through had been spontaneous. This evening is a deliberate and calculated extension of their relationship.

Steve has done all of this before, Eddie thinks worriedly. He’d been frank about his sexual history and, although he’s not mentioned it much, Eddie knows that Steve’s had at least one long-term relationship with Nancy back in school. But this. This is another decision in a series that highlights how many of Eddie’s firsts now belong to Steve.

“What if I’m bad at it?” he asks, staring at the wide eyes in his reflection.

Jeff shrugs, “Dating? Then he won’t call you again, but he’s probably not the one for you if he does anyway.”

It’s the pragmatist to his friend that Eddie usually loves, but his advice only causes the jittering to flicker in alarm.

Eddie collapses onto the couch cushions next to him with a heavy sigh; Jeff looks over with raised eyebrows at the seriousness of Eddie’s mien.

“No, you don’t get it. He is the one. And if I can’t be what he needs then maybe…” Eddie trails off. It’s not like Steve is going to run away from home. But the what ifs are starting to get him again.

Jeff lays the flat of his hand against the strings, cutting off the reverberation. The room falls silent. “He’s really that important to you?” His dark eyes are sympathetic and concerned. Eddie knows that Jeff understands the misery of a limited dating pool but add to that inconvenient feelings and Eddie feels like a walking joke.

Jeff squints across the room at Eddie’s wordless nod, pausing to think. “Well, does he seem like the type to be run off?”

An unintentional snort rips out of Eddie at even the thought. “No, this guy…” He sighs, thinking of how Steve seems like the definition of all in. “He’d stick around.”

“So, if you fall on your face or maybe give like the worst blowie—” Eddie shoots Jeff a look to signal his lack of appreciation for the phrasing. “—then he’d try to work past it right? Or work it out with you?”

Eddie blows out a deep breath, some of his anxiety settling. Trusting Steve hasn’t only been about his experience or confidence, but because, from the very beginning, he’d been ready to catch Eddie should he trip and fall. It’s why, with all his issues over controlling himself, Eddie had found it so easy to hand over the reins to Steve in the bedroom.

Eddie trusts Steve, and he knows that Steve won’t let him fuck tonight up.

He smiles at Jeff, “You’re right. Thanks, man.”

The nervousness has retreated but Eddie still feels like an idiot when he walks up the steps to the trailer, suddenly unsure of whether to knock or just walk in. Night has fallen, but the warm glow of lights from inside the trailer beckons through the curtained-off windows. Eddie shifts on his feet, thinking before finally extending his arm out to rap his knuckles against the wood.

He hears a thud before Steve hurriedly opens the door, beaming at him as he pushes open the screen with one arm behind his back. “Hey,” he beams and Eddie leans up to press a chaste kiss against his lips.

Steve draws back, eyes darkening in approval. “You look great,” he says slyly, taking in Eddie’s outfit and the loose strands falling around his neck. Eddie sends a silent thanks to Jeff for letting him change at his place while scanning Steve back too.

He’s barefoot, which Eddie likes, the familiarity of it settling him even further, clad in those tight grey jeans that makes Eddie want to bite his ass, hair higher and more structured than what he normally wears around the trailer, and in a blue button down with rolled up sleeves that Eddie suspects has been buried deep in Wayne’s closet.

Steve takes him by the hand, drawing him into the doorway and pulling a bushel of wildflowers from behind his back. “For you,” he says, gaze steady.

Staring down at the purples and blues and yellows clutched in Steve’s fist, Eddie’s heart skips. One long pause in breathless awe. He reaches out, a smile spreading across his face in an unbridled expression of happiness.

“You picked me flowers,” he murmurs, brushing a finger against one soft petal.

“It’s a date,” Steve says like that explains everything. And, Eddie thinks, taking the bouquet and holding it to his nose, he supposes that it does. Steve Harrington: Eddie’s romantic.

Steve clears his throat softly, “I wasn’t really sure what they all were, I only recognise the golden rod.” He chuckles, “And that was because we used to make fun of the name.”

“Better than exploding ass.” Eddie snickers, referencing Steve’s joke about Heinlein’s book cover all those months ago. He snorts in response and pulls Eddie further into the trailer.

Steve had left the light overhead on, but in the middle of the room, he’d pushed the couch and coffee table aside to sit a small square table with accompanying chairs, a proper dining space complete with checkered tablecloth and one tall candle flickering in the shifting air.

“Where did you…?”

Steve smiles, “Catherine was a big help.”

In the background Fleetwood Mac softly plays; Lindsay Buckingham sings about the falling night to a consistent and unyielding beat. Eddie thinks that his pulse is starting to match the drive of the rhythm, an intensifying thrum matching his desire.

Steve takes his hand again, leading him to one of the two chairs, pushing it under Eddie as he sits. Eddie lays the bouquet next to the cutlery already arranged at his seat, a paper napkin neatly folded to the left of the fork. A shallow bowl in front of him holds large cut-up chunks of bread, still warm and fragrant.

Steve proudly smiles, “Take some while I get us ready, I made it myself.”

As he clatters away in the kitchen, Eddie warily takes a slice. Steve is a whiz in the kitchen, Eddie thinks ruefully and not for the first time, unless it involves baking. He nibbles around the doughier parts of the homemade bread and makes sure to break it up to look like he’d just forgotten to eat the rest.

Steve frowns slightly at the remnants left over as he places Eddie’s plate in front of him, “Not hungry?”

“Just leaving room for the main event,” Eddie says, taking in the dish in front of him and thinking that it’s not so much of a lie.

His eyes drop to the dish below; a curl of steam winds its way above the delicate spirals of pasta noodles glistening a deep red. He takes in the whisper of garlic with his first mouthful, the sweetness of the tomatoes bursting open on his tastebuds. It’s warm and silken, a velvety caress against his tongue.

“And it was worth it,” Eddie hums in pleasure, eyes briefly closing.

Steve takes his unoccupied hand and, over the table, their fingers tangle as they eat and talk, covering light topics, observations and details about their week. Steve laughs at the image of Jeff taunting Eddie with Marvin Gaye while Eddie lovingly watches the shifting candlelight on Steve’s face as he tells him about a mischievous squirrel, describing a near wrestling match over Eddie’s flowers.

Eyeing the sauce clinging to the plate, Eddie considers how much he’ll spoil the romantic atmosphere if he licks it clean. Steve chuckles, correctly guessing his train of thought. “Go ahead,” he urges, and Eddie contentedly uses the tip of his finger to start doing his bit towards cleaning the dishes.

Steve eyes his flicking tongue for a moment before considering the sauce left over in his own dish, “I wouldn’t mind making these with homegrown tomatoes. Catherine has a gardening book, and it says that the taste is richer compared to the supermarket ones.”

Steve sighs wistfully, moving his fork and spoon to neatly sit parallel on the plate. “I’d like to get into gardening, I think. Maybe later, when we have our own place and I’m not confined to staying inside, I could set up a trellis.”

He casually glances back up and, seeing Eddie’s stunned expression, immediately tries to backpedal. Cheeks flushing, he hurriedly says, “I mean, you don’t have to be there. Moving in with me or anything. I was just thinking it was a possibility.” Steve’s rubs the back of his neck, gaze flickering away like he’s embarrassed.

“Steve,” Eddie says, pulse-quickening because while Steve would take a bullet for him, understanding that in general is very different from being unambiguously told his feelings. But knowing that Steve’s already thinking ahead, planning for their future together, makes Eddie’s heart pound, a quickening thunder that echoes the hopes he’s held fast and safe against his chest.

He takes back Steve’s hands, “I want a trellis full of tomatoes too.”

Relief breaks across Steve’s tense frame, “Yeah?”

Eddie stands and rounds the table, Steve following along like he is the metal filing to Eddie’s magnet, opening his legs when Eddie steps in front of them, and bracing his thighs as he drops into his lap.

Steve’s breath catches as Eddie combs his fingers through his hair, but his eyes are shining as they look up, that same reverent expression he’d had in the van.

“The only problem is, sweetheart,” Eddie sighs and Steve’s expression shifts to begrudging amusement as he detects the familiar facetious tone, “I’m a terrible black thumb. Do you know anyone who could help me out?”’

Steve leans in, kissing him softly, heat rising through the cracks. “How about a live-in gardener?”

Eddie’s grin is swift and Steve’s lips meet teeth, “Maybe a hot piece of ass that runs around with his shirt off?” Steve’s head tilts back in mirth, “I know just the man, baby.”

Eddie eyes the tempting stretch of neck in front of him and, unable to hold back anymore, leans in to lick a wide stripe against the pretty, pretty beauty marks under his tongue. He curls around the warm taste under him and Steve’s breath catches, fingers flexing sharply over Eddie’s hips.

“Steve, take me to bed,” Eddie murmurs.

He has only a moment to register the tightening of the muscles under him and Steve’s arms sliding under to grip his ass before he lifts Eddie into the air. He shrieks and Steve laughs, “Come on.” He carries Eddie into the bedroom, the lamps already covered in a soft material that casts the room in a worshipful burning glow.

Sitting him down on the turn-downed sheets, Steve kneels at his feet and works Eddie’s black boots over his feet. Eddie reaches over and places his hand on top of Steve’s head, a benediction; simply resting it there while he is tended to with faith and devotion.

Piece by piece, Steve sheds Eddie of his clothing like he is unveiling the most precious of gifts. At each juncture pressing a kiss to his skin, one to his ankle as the last boot falls, another to his shoulder as he pulls off his shirt, and a lingering one against his thighs as he finally has Eddie naked in front of him.

Steve has ended up below Eddie again, kneeling as he’d rolled the jeans over and down his hips, steadying him as he pulled it off one leg at a time. Eddie thinks that he needs that stability too, for his body and his heart. He feels the need for it as he gazes down at Steve’s upturned face, sincerity and devotion radiating from his body, burning in his eyes.

In that moment, standing tall above Steve like a god and his supplicant, Eddie knows that he has the terrible power to hurt this man. An exquisite ability all of his own to take Steve apart. It hurts him, the possibility of it, an ache in his heart as fierce as a stabbing wound.

Threading his fingers through bronze locks again, Eddie urges Steve to come to him so that he can protect him.

Steve rises, watching Eddie patiently, waiting for his direction and Eddie feels the dual contradiction of control in their relationship. Eddie hands the keys to Steve and Steve helpless but to follow his lead, a slave driven by Eddie’s desires.

He pulls Steve in, taking his mouth, directing him to take Eddie apart and put him back together again. Steve swallows his offer hungrily, pushing him down and moving over him to present his mouth and hands in willing indenture. Impatiently pushing at his own coverings until his bare skin slides against Eddie's, a tide of heat and hunger rising between them.

Time moves silkily forward until Eddie is on his stomach, Steve’s big hand gliding down his spine even as he opens him up with his tongue. Suckling and kissing, pushing Eddie into a mindless heat with his face pressed against soft pillows and hardness in his fist. He is so close to shattering, falling into a liquid abyss.

Steve allows his wandering hand only for so long before he tugs it away, manoeuvring a boneless Eddie onto his back, a pillow under his hips and Steve hovering over him. His eyes are dark and intent, an unbroken scrutiny that hints at a hidden storm. He takes in the flush that’s worked its way down Eddie’s chest, his parted lips and blissed-out eyes, and rocks forward. Eddie groans at the cock rubbing against his sensitive hole, eyes fluttering shut.

“No, baby,” Steve says urgently and Eddie peers through his fluttering lashes, “that’s it, sweetheart, I want you looking at me. I want you to see that it’s me here with you.” Guiding himself, Steve pushes and Eddie moans brokenly, the first hint of him burning deliciously up his spine, a steady bearing down that has Eddie so incredibly full, drowning in the sensation of Steve around him, above him, in him.

Eddie is Steve’s as much as Steve is Eddie’s.

Watching the pleasure fill his eyes, Steve groans, pressing forward and pulling back, gently at first, but soon rocking forward in a hard, throbbing rhythm. Overcome, Eddie struggles to keep from closing his gaze away.

“Good boy,” Steve pants in approval, seeing his effort. Eddie whimpers, the pleasure of the praise and the grinding of Steve inside him almost too good.

“Keep your eyes on me, baby.” Eddie shakily nods and Steve hitches Eddie’s hips up as his own pistons, one hand sliding up to rest powerfully over his neck. “Sweetheart?” He asks, panting as he drives forward.

“Please,” Eddie brokenly moans, pushing up into the hard cage, and Steve groans again, pressing around his throat. His broad fingers and palm squeezing in a manner that has Eddie’s pulse beating hard and breathing becoming ragged.

“Baby, take your hand, touch yourself.” Eddie does, handling himself and the tension spiralling out of control with alarming speed, he feels himself unravelling and Steve squeezes again and the good becomes safe and after that everything, and the world drowns in a white-hot flash, a whirlwind with Eddie at the centre of the maelstrom, painting himself in hot splashes of seed and gasping in gulps of breath as he breaches the surface of the storm.

Steve falls forward, a broken sob falling from his mouth, gaze intent and fracturing as he stares down at Eddie. “Baby, who am I?”

Eddie moans, the wild movements of Steve above him pushing him into an exquisite oversensitivity, “Steve,” he moans.

“Again, sweetheart,” his eyes are dark and fathomless, a port in the storm of his frantic movement, desperation tearing at the edge of his voice.

“Steve, Stevie, baby, sweetheart,” Eddie reaches up, pulling Steve to him, their open mouths sharing frantic breaths, eyes open and reaching from one soul to the other. "Steve,” he whispers, “Steve,” he says again, brow furrowed from the pleasure-pain rippling through his body and carrying into his tortured throat, a desperate cry to tell Steve that he is owned just as thoroughly as he owns Eddie.

Recognition ripples through Steve’s expression and he crumbles, crying out and squeezing his eyes shut, falling into Eddie’s arms as he breaks in his embrace, hopelessly grinding forward and filling Eddie with his torn and shattered pieces.

 

 

Notes:

...the flowers were goldenrod, purple coneflower, and butterfly weed; bright, colourful and beautiful - all the things that remind Steve of Eddie

Chapter 25: Melting Point

Summary:

Last chapter, Steve took Eddie for a proper date while Steve broke apart in Eddie's arms.

This chapter, Steve is not okay and Eddie is going to make sure his stubborn boy knows where his home is.

Notes:

I survived another week and have adopted the motto of: what did I do right today? It sounds harsh but is actually very liberating because it turns out it's a damn lot.

So, if you're a bit down or struggling, I hope you'll remember what went well today for you too.

Moonlight filters through the curtains, casting a soft white glow that highlights the contours of their entwined bodies. Steve wrapped around Eddie, knees tucked up, one arm a pillow and the other folded onto his chest, chin hooked on his shoulder. Eddie cups Steve against him, gently grazing his thumb against the back of his hand in a soothing gesture.

Steve had stayed collapsed on top of Eddie for a long moment after he came, broad shoulders small as he’d curled around him. Eddie had stroked his hair and whispered how good he’d made him feel, but Steve had eventually moved up, eyes suspiciously clear and smile chagrined, “You know, there’s this thing called a drop and it means I need to make sure you’re taken care of afterwards, like after we do some of the stuff we do.”

Eddie had searched his eyes, looking for the emotion running deep beneath the carefree expression that he knows is a lie. “I’m good.” But Steve had shaken his head ruefully, “No, I should be doing better. Wait here and let me at least clean you up at least.” And he had. He’d come in with snacks and water and a warm cloth, wiping Eddie’s body down and telling him how good he’d made him feel.

Eddie had accepted the care, that feeling of benediction filling him again as Steve worshipped his body with offerings and purification. Yet it was a bittersweet blessing, knowing that there is a pain in Steve that he’s not sharing. Eddie allows it for a while, letting time pass syrupy slow, Steve curling up around him but both of them awake, the moon bathing their naked bodies and bearing witness.

“Tell me,” Eddie commands softly.

Steve’s forehead drops to hide behind his shoulder, “There’s nothing really to say.”

“Tell me,” he repeats patiently.

The hard swallow resounds through the fragile air of the dark room. “It’s stupid,” Steve mutters.

“Tell me,” Eddie says for the third time. The three of fairytales, of love stories and biblical retribution finally unlocks Steve’s stubborn reticence. His breath is a hot sigh against Eddie’s bare skin, “I’m scared.”

“Of the time travel?” Eddie guesses, staring through the window at the distant silver orb, trying to work out what’s going on in Steve’s mind.

He shakes his head, the silk of his hair the softest of brushes, “I’m scared that 1986 is going to roll around and nothing will anchor me here. I’m just going to keep blipping in and out for the rest of my life or until I die. I’m scared…”

His breath is ragged as he takes a desperate breath like his lungs aren’t working. “I’m afraid that time is going to speed past and one day I’ll be here, lying in bed with you, like this, and the next it’ll be like 1996 and you’ll be off running a clinic full of kids with scraped up knees or…”

His hand trembles under Eddie’s. “Or I’ll be gone for so long and one day I’ll fall face down on that stupid carpet and you’ll have moved away. Or worse, you’ll stay here because of me, but as I look over from lying flat on the floor, you’ll be cuddled up on the couch with your real boyfriend. You’ll look down at me and say: I couldn’t wait forever, Stevie.”

Eddie’s hand spasms, clutching Steve’s so hard that he’s sure he’s biting into him with his nails. “That’s never going to happen,” he fervently vows. Eddie can’t even imagine a future like Steve has described, he would never leave him behind. Eddie shifts to move, intent on looking Steve in the eye and challenging him to believe anything but the truth in them, but Steve’s arms tighten around him, a sound of protest coming from him even as he buries his head deeper against Eddie’s back.

It takes a second for him to realise that the spreading feeling against him is Steve’s silent tears. His breath shudders out of him, Steve’s pain shaking his frame. Swallowing around his fears, Eddie takes a different tact. “That sounds specific,” he says of the couch scenario.

Steve nods against him, a small movement of acquiescence. “It may be a reoccurring nightmare,” he admits, voice tired. Eddie stares at that orb, wondering how something so far away can be so large and powerful. “You have a lot of them,” he says flatly.

Flinching as if Eddie has struck him, Steve curls up further. “Not so much since I’m here, with you. I wasn’t lying about that.”

Eddie sighs, impotency yawning large through him at the thought of Steve awake, distraught and feeling alone next to a contentedly sleeping Eddie. “Wake me next time,” he instructs.

“What? No. Why would I do that? You need your sleep too.” Steve scoffs, “More than me — you actually have places to be.”

“I don’t want to be snoozing away while you’re awake and upset, sweetheart. That’s why. I don’t want you dealing with this stuff alone; I want to be your anchor.”

“My anchor?” Steve’s voice is uncertain, and Eddie is no longer struck by the duality of the easy confidence that Steve carries against the part of him that is curled up tight, waiting for Eddie to kick him.

Eddie thinks now that he has always recognised the small boy in Steve that echoes his own from years ago, under the thumb of Bobby Munson. Perhaps Steve is even better at hiding it than he had been.

“Why do you do that? Why do you act like I’m going to ditch you the first chance I can?” Eddie blurts out, unable to hold back any longer. Cursing silently because he’d told himself months ago that he’d allow Steve to come to him, but he’s breaking his heart and Steve keeps breaking it every time he willingly allows himself to be shattered against the rocky swells of whatever it is that he’s keeping hidden from Eddie.

Steve wearily sighs, letting go of his grip around Eddie. “I’ll be back,” he says shortly and Eddie watches incredulously as he rolls out of bed, naked backside flexing in the moonlight as he walks out of the bedroom door. It takes the loud hoot of an owl as it flies above outside to shake him out of his surprise and he throws himself off the bed, striding after Steve with determination.

He finds him hunched over the sink, droplets still running down his jaw from having splashed his face with water. The room is dark, the candle long snuffed out, and Eddie blocks the exit of the kitchen, both of them as bare as babes. The trailer park outside lets in enough light to cover the room in shades of blues and purples, painting phantom bruises along the strong lines of Steve’s body.

His head shifts as he registers Eddie’s presence, but otherwise remains looking down at the steel sink, his hand resting on the dripping tap. “I was coming back,” he says quietly. “I was.”

Eddie refrains from pointing out that he doesn’t have much choice what with their limited space in the trailer; it comes from a place of anger that Steve would walk away rather than respond to him. “Were you going to answer my question too?” he asks firmly instead.

Steve’s shoulders straighten and he stiffly turns to lean back against the counter, the dripping of the tap echoing behind him. “I was a shotgun baby, you know,” he says abruptly, all emotion shuttered behind swiftly erected walls.

Eddie hates it already. Hates that Steve feels the need to hide himself from him. He feels the moment teeter, a choice where he can let the hurt build and lash out or take this opportunity because that’s what it is: Steve’s giving him the chance to clamber over that wall, and Eddie is good at running so he’ll run forwards until he can jump it.

“Like from a shotgun wedding?” He cautiously steps forward, but half of Steve’s face is cast in shadows from his position in the kitchen and Eddie can’t read his expression yet when he says, “Yeah, Thanksgiving ‘84 wasn’t the first time a woman turned up to the Harrington home pregnant.”

“And you were it the last time?” Eddie steps in again, approaching as carefully as if Steve is a spooked dog at the edges of the park. Steve snorts, a sound of disdain and resignation, “Maybe, hopefully. I don’t know, Jesus, if anyone needs a box of Trojans it’s Montgomery Harrington.”

“Dumb name,” Eddie offers calmly.

Steve hums, “I was nearly a Thaddeus, so it could have been worse. But Mom didn’t want a kid who was establishment before it even came out of the womb. But then she didn’t really want a kid at all.” He sighs, looking down, his toe scuffing at the linoleum. “She wanted to go into archelogy, you know. Had a partial scholarship for Northwestern and was going to study the mummies in Egypt. Before me that is.”

“But she chose to — to have you,” Eddie points out, an uneasy feeling skipping through him like a broken record, jarring and wrong. Steve shoots him a look and Eddie thinks he’s trying for disapproval, but it looks despondent more than anything. “It was the sixties, no Roe vs Wade, no option for a good Christian girl from Illinois other than marriage. I was officially referred to as a premmie baby, but I always knew that I wasn’t. Honestly don’t know when or how I even figured it out. I suppose Mom told me when she was deep in the merlot or something.”

He looks out to the living area, not seeing it while lost in memories and words taking on a cadence like he’s reciting from lost conversations as if he can hear the sound of his mother’s voice across time and space.

“She’d sit at the vanity, brushing on her makeup for that evening’s party and tell me about Cleopatra: fearsome ruler, brilliant politician, spoke nine languages and used costume and disguise to lead as a living goddess.” He pauses before wistfully remembering, “The room always smelled like bergamot and rose.”

Steve looks back at him, smiling sadly, “Instead she got to be the face of Harrington Enterprises, the extension of a man she didn’t choose and a son she didn’t want.”

“What about your father?” Eddie says, unclenching his jaw.

“Child rearing is women’s business in the Harrington family.” Steve shrugs, “He was never really interested unless it was an achievement he could boast about to his subordinates.” He pulls down a tumbler, filling it with water. The peaceful splashing sound belies the tension in his shoulders. “The first time they really spent months away, not just a trip for a couple of weeks—I’m talking months—was when I was around Dustin’s age. In middle school and relying on a housekeeper for meals.”

A flash of anger strikes starkly through Eddie, curling his fingers inwards and biting into his flesh. “They left you behind, just like that?”

“I didn’t even realise what was going on until a month had gone past, the first time,” Steve shakes his head at himself like the child is to blame for his parents’ decisions. “I was just this stupid kid that Tommy hung out with, going home to be alone and lonely, and then I started high school. Shot up like a sprout, made the Tigers, and everyone loves a parent-free home to hang out at.” He rolls his eyes, “I was a walking cliché and a casual dickhead. Honestly, the Upside Down knocking me on my ass was probably the second best thing to ever happen to me.”

Eddie feels like he’s going to be sick; how deep does the poison run in Steve? When Wayne had been talking little Eddie through the worst of his father’s hate, Steve had been internalising it in that ugly, empty house. “Because you deserved it,” he says around the rising bile. He can see the glimmer in Steve’s eyes as he nods like Eddie is finally on board.

The tension in Eddie erupts. “For fucks sake, Steve,” Eddie paces away, unable to stand the sick energy filling him anymore, shaking his fingers and trying to push it out physically. “How the fuck do you think you deserve so little?”

Steve’s voice is stiff, “You asked me why. And this is why.” He scowls, gesturing at him in rising frustration, “You’re smart, Eddie. You see it, or you will. I don’t respect my father, but my mother is a smart woman. She saw something there. And maybe, maybe I could blame it on them, some flaw in their DNA, but Nancy saw it too. And she’s the fucking definition of clever and clear-sighted. She saw it, the lack in me. And I get it, I do, other than a good time, I don’t offer fucking much.”

Eddie draws in a shocked breath, “What did you say?” He advances on Steve, no longer caring about spooking him away, leaning into his space as he searches hazel eyes with scorn directed inward. Steve rolls them, “Don’t make it such a big thing, I just mean that there’s a pattern there and I’m at the centre of it.”

“Pretty self-absorbed of you, Stevie,” Eddie hisses, gaze narrowing.

Steve cocks an eyebrow, unimpressed, “Yes, hello, I think we established that early on.”

Eddie’s head tips back in grim amusement, laughter pealing from him like it’ll unleash the ugly feelings filling him like greasy gasoline, a heavy, wet presence that is a hair’s breadth away from lighting on fire. “You, Steve Harrington,” Eddie says grimly, “are the least self-absorbed person I know and, despite being fairly clever yourself, are being a short-sighted idiot about this right now. But I understand it because you’ve been surrounded by people who have convinced you that everything is your fault.”

Steve slams down the glass, a sharp thud against the slick counter and pushes past Eddie, shoulder knocking him aside as he strides out into the open space of the living area, almost hiding behind the small table he had borrowed from Catherine. “That’s not funny, Eddie.”

He stares at him in shock, “You think I’m making fun of you.”

Steve grimaces in frustration, hand flying to his hips as he searches for the right words. “No, not like that… Just. No one would confuse me for smart and I don’t want you gassing me up like I’m some stupid kid who needs a fucking medal of participation.”

“Honey, if I were giving you a medal of participation, it would be for beating a kid when he’s down.”

Steve frowns, shaking his head in confusion.

“Yourself Steve,” Eddie advances again, boxing him against the table, taking his cheek in one hand. His skin is cool to the touch. “You’ve looked at a kid beaten down by the weight of his parents’ fuckups and made it his problem, rather than it being theirs.”

Steve’s nostrils flare like he’s struggling to breathe, and Eddie can see in the heightened light that his eyes are still red from crying against Eddie’s back. They flick away as if he can’t stand the honesty in Eddie’s gaze, but Eddie draws him firmly back into his sights. “What about Nancy? You said that she left you but you were together for a year. That sounds like more than a good time.”

Steve laughs bitterly. “That’s not. I can’t…” He says, lost and shaking under Eddie’s palm, vibrating with years’ worth of pain stitched deep into his flesh. His skin turning clammy and sallow under Eddie’s hand, he shakes his head out of his clasp and escapes for the third time, running to the front door and out into the dead of the night, the screen slapping shut behind him.

Eddie follows like he’s stalking him down; Steve is a scared animal that doesn’t know how to recognise home and Eddie is going to show it to him if he has to hunt him down for the rest of his life.

When he finds him, halfway across the left path towards the woods, he stands staring out at the trees. Surrounded by silence, his hands trembling and gaze lost, the quiet is only broken by the occasional creaking of metal and the distant hum of crickets.

A flickering yellow light is the sole sign of life while the trailers in the distance stand like aloof sentinels, windows revealing nothing of the lives within. It illuminates the lines etched deeply in Steve’s face like a camera flash, brief bursts capturing a heaving chest and clenched jaw, pain radiating from him like the heat from an infected wound.

Eddie prowls forward, circling until he’s blocking his path forward. “You can run, sweetheart, but I’m just going to follow you.”

Steve continues to stare fixedly at the faraway trees, fists clenched in an attempt to stop the trembling.

“Do you know why?” Eddie asks, desperate to reach through the barrier Steve has put up between them.

Steve shakes his head, strands of hair falling over his forehead and cheeks, but Eddie reaches forward for the third time, bringing Steve’s face up to meet his own and cradling him in his hands to pour every ounce of emotion out through his honest eyes. “Because I love you, Steve.”

He makes a broken sound, staring at Eddie in disbelief, already starting to deny it with a movement of his head but Eddie stops the motion before he can complete it. “I love you and it doesn’t matter if you don’t believe it right now, because I do. I love you, and you’re going to have to accept that one day.”

“Don’t…” Steve whispers, white under the yellow light.

“I’m going to be here, Steve. Your anchor, waiting for you next month, next year, in ninety-fucking-six, I’ll come home from patching up those kids and I’ll be here, waiting for you to come back to me because you’re everything.”

Steve’s brows are furrowed like Eddie is pressing a white-hot brand against his flesh and Eddie thinks good, because Steve has long since been a permanent brand on his own heart. “So you can run. You can fall through time, but I’m going to be waiting for you because I can’t live without you, sweetheart. Because it hurts when you’re not here; like I’m one long gaping wound and I only heal when your hand is in mine.”

Steve’s mouth trembles and he presses it together, staring into Eddie’s eyes like they’re full of strange and impossible things, and Eddie sorrowfully thinks that for Steve it probably is. “You don’t have to say anything, right now,” he says softly. “You don’t even have to feel the same way, but I need you to know that I do. I’ll be the Hades to your Persephone, waiting through spring until you come back to me.”

Steve clears his throat roughly, one shaking hand coming to rest against Eddie’s nape. They share the same breath, in and out like an ouroboros of life. “I don’t know who that is,” he admits, shaky but tentatively game.

Eddie lets out a breath of relief: Steve’s first words hadn’t been the rejection he’d been expecting, and he smiles watchfully, seeing the hope glimmering in the back of Steve’s eyes too.

“It’s a rebirth myth,” Eddie explains of his analogy. “Persephone, a beautiful goddess,” he leans forward and nudges Steve with his nose to indicate who, out of the two of them, is the celestial being, “Entranced Hades, the god of the underworld — so deeply that he stole her away.”

“And I’m the chick here,” Steve tries to joke despite the strain in his voice still evident.

Eddie presses a chaste kiss against his chapped lips and Steve’s eyes close briefly as if he is taking comfort from the small action. “You are beauty and divine, yes. You will be old and grey with hair coming out of your ears and you will be as beautiful to me as you are in this moment.” Steve’s breath escapes him in a shudder of release.

“But Persephone had to leave in the spring; every year or the world would fall into winter forever. No life, no love, nothing without the grace of Persephone. Despairing, Hades could only wait for her to return, but he did, because they had made a deal — sealed on a pomegranate seed. She leaves to bless the world in spring, but she always returns to him. And so, Hades waits and always will wait.”

“Because he loves her that much,” Steve concludes softly, the other arm coming up to curl loosely over Eddie’s shoulders. Eddie steps closer, dropping his own to slide around Steve’s waist and pulling him in.

“Because I love you that much,” Eddie says, hesitating until he sees the acceptance seep into the cracks running through Steve.

“You do, don’t you?” Steve says in wonder, eyes flicking between Eddie’s like he can read the truth there and Eddie hopes that he can. He burns with every fibre within him that this is the time that Steve can read him right. But he must, because Steve sways forward, telling Eddie about the faith rising within him in the soft fusion of their lips, a tender unravelling exposing the bones of truth and love reaching out to meet between them.

Eddie gasps, eventually needing air, but sliding his hands over Steve’s back in encouragement. Feeling the silken caress of bare skin he comes to a startling realisation. “Steve,” he murmurs, drawing further away. Steve hums, chasing his lips until Eddie says, “Sweetheart, we’re naked.”

Steve blinks, looking up to glance around the dark and empty trailer park, “Oh, shit. Good thing it’s the dead of night.”

Amusement bubbles up, a release of fear and dread that results in laughter spilling loudly out of Eddie’s mouth. He presses a hand against his mouth to smother it down, vaguely fearful of waking his neighbours, “You really have no shame.”

Steve smirks, “I know I look good.”

“You do,” Eddie sighs, thinking of how little Steve thinks he offers beyond that. “But you are good too.” Steve’s smile wobbles, but he doesn’t look away from Eddie this time and it comes back stronger as he persists, “You are a good person and a great fucking boyfriend, and I can’t wait to eat your trellis tomatoes.”

“Other than Robin I think you’re the only person to ever say that.” Steve sighs, taking Eddie’s hand and walking them back inside the trailer. “I’ve always felt like some lost dog at the pet store. Cute enough to play with for a bit but not the one you take home.” He guides Eddie through the door with a propriety palm against the dip of his back and locks the door behind them.

Eddie bites his lip but decides that the longer he allows things to go unsaid the more likely they’ll have a repeat of tonight. “And Nancy? You looked upset when I mentioned her.”

Steve squeezes his hand and draws him along before they settle onto their sides of the bed, the two of them lying on their sides, facing each other with their hands clasped between them. A connection both refuse to let go of.

“First off, I’m over her,” Steve says soberly and Eddie nods, grateful for the words since the worry had niggled at the back of his head after Steve’s strong reaction. “I don’t want Nancy, I want you. But it’s hard to not look back at my one attempt at a long-term relationship and feel like a failure at its implosion.”

Eddie tightens his hand, silently offering support, “I’m not trying to minimise this, Steve, but you know that there are two people in a relationship? I’ve gotten the Steve-boyfriend-experience so unless you were wildly different you need to understand that both parties are responsible for making sure something works — you’re not answerable for other peoples’ actions.”

“Nancy thought I was,” Steve says, peeling back a layer of the hurt, exposing the raw, bruised meat of it. “Never said it outright, but she’d have this way of talking about Barb that made it clear that if I’d been a better guy—someone not trying to get into her pants—then Barb wouldn’t have been left alone, wouldn’t have died.”

Eddie sucks in a breath, that familiar mad rising in a swell within him and slopping against the sides of the heated forge. But Steve’s gaze turns inward, “Or maybe that was her talking about herself? That’s what Robin thinks. It’s just hard to sort it out in my head and we never did talk it out.”

“About you two or Barb? Barb Holland?” Eddie vaguely remembers when Nancy’s friend had gone missing. People had talked, but the impact of it had been like a rock thrown in a pond, there for gossip one day and the surface smoothed over by indifference the next.

“Our relationship too, yeah. But Barb — she was killed by the Upside Down. In the pool in my backyard, 1983,” Steve confesses quietly. It makes Eddie unbearably sad and he leans over to press a kiss of comfort against his lips.

Steve softly smiles in response even as his eyes continue to show the depths of his grief, “Nancy would get this look sometimes, you know? Like she thought she was hiding it, but it’d be like Steve Harrington you are so dumb, why am I with you? It honestly wasn’t a surprise when she left me for Jonathon. He’s more her speed.”

Eddie warily thinks that the subject of Nancy may be a circular endeavour: Steve convinced of her cleverness, like his mother, and it feeding into his ideas of his own worth. “What about me? I love you, does that make me an idiot?” Eddie asks instead.

Steve looks at him and Eddie can see it: the exact moment where he wavers against saying yes against his genuine belief in Eddie. It would warm his heart if it didn’t help stroke that searing sadness. “You are one of the smartest people I know. I’m not sure what I’m doing right, but I’ll keep doing it,” Steve vows and Eddie’s heart jitters, a little two-step dance of celebration.

“It’s not any one thing, Steve,” Eddie says, “I suppose if I had to pin it down, it would be that you make me feel grounded. You make me feel clever and smart, and like I have a future worth living for.” Steve’s eyes search his, a glimmer rising in them that Eddie thinks is some combination of hope fading into faith, the initial lines of a sketch firming into a bright and brilliant painting.

He rises to his knees, pushing Steve on his back as he swings his legs over to sit in his lap, pushing down onto the heat below him. Steve’s hands automatically come up to Eddie’s hips, stabilising him. “You think you’re stuck here because you don’t want to mess up the timeline,” Eddie teases with a hint of gravity beneath his breathlessness.

“Yeah,” Steve prompts with an expectant smile, “That not right?”

Bending over to press a kiss against him, tangling his fingers in bronze hair and his tongue into the warm embrace of the boy below him, Eddie only pulls back when Steve’s chest starts to heave. “It’s you, you loveable man. You’re going to see: ‘86 is going to come and go and we’re going to be this boring couple that can go out, but I’m not going to let you.”

“No?” Steve hums breathlessly, healing shimmering under the surface of his amusement, his hands creeping up to explore the lean plains of Eddie’s torso.

Eddie gasps when he uses his blunt nails to score neat red lines in his skin, making him squirm, but he refuses to give in yet. “No, baby, sweet, sweet sweetheart,” Eddie punctuates each endearment with a honeyed kiss against Steve’s face who laughs at the attention. “I’ve had your undivided focus for a year —  do you think I can do without it now?”

Steve’s smile has a shade of shyness to it, but it’s not hesitant like he’d been in bed, hiding behind Eddie’s back. Eddie continues, hoping to stamp the words on Steve’s heart like the brand he himself wears. “I’ll wither away without you, you know? I told you a long time back — you’re it for me now. You’re home.”

“You’re my home too,” Steve returns softly, a beautiful emotion blooming bright across his face. “Not because I keep falling on your lounge room floor. Not because this weird, mixed-up mess returns me every time, but because I…” Steve strokes a gentle hand down Eddie’s profile, following the path down his jaw as if mesmerising the lines and contours of his face. Like it’s a beloved thing, eternal and enduring.

Eddie nuzzles against it, but reflexively pauses at his next words, heart stopping as Steve confesses, “Because I love you too, Eddie. I feel like I’ve been turned towards you for years now, waiting until the right moment that I could be with you.”

Steve’s face wavers as tears fill Eddie’s eyes, heart pierced clean through by an unexpected declaration that he wasn’t sure he’d ever hear. He feels one salty drop fall off his cheek as Steve continues, drawing Eddie’s shoulders down until he lays flat against him, his breath washing warmly over his skin.

“Because when I lay next to you, I can sleep because I trust you: I trust in your kindness, in your willingness and capacity to shield me when I’m vulnerable. Because I haven’t felt like the puppy behind the glass ever since I landed here; you make me feel seen, Eddie. Seen and chosen for who I am, not who I should be and I…”

Steve draws in a deep breath, an expansion pushing and pulling Eddie up and down with him, “I don’t think I can live without you too, baby. I know that I don’t want to. So, if you’re willing to wait, then I’ll always come back. I promise.”

Eddie’s hand trembles as he presses it to Steve’s skin, who immediately kisses the palm. “You make me feel chosen too, sweetheart. Like you tumbled through time just to love me.”

“I did,” Steve says fiercely, spearing his fingers through Eddie’s hair and taking his lips in a hard, passionate kiss. “I did and I would again, fears be damned. You are worth every moment of uncertainty, Eddie. Every moment that I worry that I’m fucking up or taking the worst path imaginable, it’s worth it if I get to have you. I’d do it again. Again and again, to have you in my arms right now.”

“Good,” Eddie says, urgency propelling him forward, a restlessness filling him to stamp his feelings not only on Steve’s heart but on his soul and body too. He presses up even as he grinds his hips down, encouraging the rising hardness under him. He gasps as Steve shifts, eyes dark as obsidian as he sweeps Eddie under him to bite and kiss at his neck.

Eddie twists underneath, desperately pushing up. His sight becomes blind in sharp pleasure, but he manages to gasp out, “Because I’ll be here, sweetheart. I’m waiting for you, always.”

Steve draws back, gaze consuming and lips swollen, “Because you’re my anchor.” He hitches Eddie’s leg over his hip, grinding their hard shafts together. “You’re my Hades,” he says, earnest and grave in his resolution.

Eddie moans at the building pleasure, the flames urgently licking at the glowing metal within. He wraps his arms around Steve’s shoulders, bringing him down as he rocks and thrusts against him, eyes and mouths open, sharing the hot bellowing air of life and love. “From now until springtime, baby. I love you. I love you, my springtime boy,” Eddie pants, gasping as Steve drives forward.

“From now until springtime,” Steve repeats, words heavy and full of portent, a vow to keep them fasted together, past the mundanities of the everyday, because their love is a full thing: a warm, liquid life that fills them and heals the cracks inside.

They let it envelop them in its passion that night, a fire that fuses Eddie’s tarnished copper to Steve’s gold, smelting them into a beautiful creation that when it cools will only reveal the strength of an enduring bond beyond time.

 

 

Notes:

Eddie mentally comparing Steve to a caged Persephone in A Worm Ouroboros *finally* coming into play

Chapter 26: Defenders of the Faith

Summary:

Last chapter, Steve admitted to his fears that he'll disappear long enough one day that Eddie will forget him, leading to a charged discussion ending with the boys' confessing their love for each other.

This chapter, Eddie returns to senior year for the third time, the party joins Hellfire, and Dustin confronts Eddie about Steve's first visit as a time traveller.

Fall 1985

“Now play nice with the other girls and boys,” Steve grins, handing over a heavy paper bag.

Eddie swipes it from his grip, poking his tongue out as he shoves his homemade lunch into the open backpack. Outside, Millie can be heard calling out to her boys to please for the sake of her sanity come out to the car, it’s time to go.

Stepping closer into his space, Steve adjusts Eddie’s denim vest over his t-shirt, tugging at the lapels like he’s straightening them into something respectable. Eddie had found a Judas Priest print, and a red and blue mechanical monster prowls out from in between the edges.

“It’s your first day of classes, so listen to your teacher and no tabletop speeches.”

Eddie rolls his eyes, tipping his head back to groan, “It was one time!”

Steve quickly hides his snicker behind a facetious look of sympathy, “And it was memorable, baby. That’s why I can’t forget it. Just don’t go slinging those arrows until it’s lunchtime, we don’t want you getting thrown out of class before you can learn anything.”

“It was slings and arrows—”

Quickly dragging Eddie in by the edges of his jacket, Steve takes Eddie’s lips in a passionate kiss, dragging their mouths together and leaving Eddie swaying and breathless. Steve draws back, eyes gleaming, “I’ll miss you,” he whispers.

Eddie fights against the sparking fire, resting his forehead against Steve’s, “I love you, springtime boy.”

Almost looking like he has four eyes at the closeness of their angle, Eddie can still see the emotion shining brightly through Steve’s eyes when he vows, “I’ll be here, baby, waiting too.”

“Don’t think he’s going to learn much that way, son,” Wayne dryly adds as he walks around them into the kitchen, reaching for the carafe.

Steve stretches behind him, keeping his gaze fixed on Eddie as he pushes another paper bag with the tips of his fingers; Wayne takes it with a nod and walks back around them, leaving them to their goodbyes.

Eddie grins into Steve’s pretty hazel eyes, already thinking about when he’ll be home later. “Oh, I don’t know. If he’d greeted me every morning at school like this, I’m pretty sure I would’ve passed senior year the first go-round.”

“Damn straight,” Steve yawns, smothering it behind a raised palm. Eddie cocks an eyebrow at the gesture, noting the smudges under Steve’s eyes too.

He shakes his head, knowing what Eddie’s going to say already, “No nightmares, I was just restless last night.” Eddie winces when he tiredly cracks his neck. “I think the change in weather is getting to me, is all. Don’t worry about it.”

They both wince this time when they hear Millie yell again. Steve runs his eyes over Eddie’s outfit, smirking. “Go get ‘em, tiger,” he says while turning Eddie around and smacking him on the ass. Eddie playfully scowls at being called anything close to the Hawkins High mascot even as he quickly presses a kiss to him goodbye and darts away. Letting the door slam behind, he whistles as he heads to the van.

The cool breeze of the morning air is fresh against his cheeks, carrying the scent of dew drops even as the rising warmth of the day banishes the overnight chill. In the distance, a hint of autumnal red is scattered amongst the trees, creating an uneven pattern to the wooded wall at the back of the trailer park.

Across the way, Max Mayfield, newest resident of Forrest Hills, sullenly exits her own humble abode, an orange and black skateboard under one arm. The sun shines brightly on her striking ginger hair, but Eddie thinks that by the hunch of her shoulders that she’s feeling less in harmony with the happy weather.

He pauses with his hand on the open door of the Chevy, wondering if she’d accept a ride since they’re both Hawkins High inmates this year. “Hey Red,” he calls out brightly with a wave of his hand.

For a beat, she stops to stare at him in annoyance before pulling her free hand out of her jeans jacket to flip him the bird. “Fuck off,” she yells brightly with a wide, fake smile. She drops her board and pushes away, the fading sound of her rolling wheels the only remaining presence left from her departure.

He clicks his tongue. That had been less than optimal, Eddie admits ruefully to himself as he starts the van with a rumble, hoping that Steve had missed the interaction. But it’s early days. She and her mother, Susan, a thin woman who looked tired in general, had drawn up a week ago, unloading their hired truck and moving in quietly. Eddie had ambled over with a cheerful approach that had Susan smiling cautiously and Max looking at him with outright suspicion.

In the heat of the day, he’d left behind the leathers so maybe it was just the whole moving into a trailer park for the first time vibe he was putting out. Either way, he thinks it’s a good sign that Max doesn’t flip him off again as he drives past, The Sentinel roaring through the open windows. Call him sentimental, but Eddie couldn’t resist playing the same song that he and Steve had listened to in this van exactly a year ago.

What a trip that had been, Eddie thinks with a laugh as he screeches into the familiar parking lot of Hawkins High. A guy in a green and white Tiger’s jacket stumbles back and yells at the back of the van, but Eddie barely notices. He never would have thought Steve Harrington would quite literally fall into his life as he had on that first day. He’d been too wrapped up in the humiliation of starting as a senior a second time.

But it’s different this year, he thinks later, watching Principal Higgins on stage during school assembly, because he really couldn’t care less at the whispers that had followed him through the doors already. He’d chosen to be here, this time. Last year he’d turned up because he felt like he owed it to Wayne.

And look at where that had gotten him, he scoffs as he absently watches a video above begin with mournful music. Empty hands and sobbing alone to Fleetwood Mac. No, this year he chooses to be here, and he’s going to honour that choice.

Eddie blinks out of his determined thoughts as he catches the familiar smirking blue eyes of Billy Hargrove. Alongside his yearbook photo, a picture of Heather Holloway beams out at the collection of sitting students and Eddie realises that they’re doing an in-memoriam for the teens who died at Starcourt.

Higgins takes back the mic, telling them all that they should work hard in memory of the outstanding students that Billy and Heather had been. Choosing to ignore the blatant lie about Billy, Eddie tries to remember if Steve had revealed any clues about their deaths in the mall fire, but he can’t recall any.

It hadn’t quite clicked during Steve’s revelation at The Bookshelf and after he’d returned, but Billy and Heather must have been caught up with the Russians that Steve had told him about. He wonders whether they had been captured too and feels an odd juxtaposition of sadness at the general idea while being unable to mourn Billy when he’d been a such an asshole while alive.

It’s the loss of potential, he thinks as he lines up for a soda later in the cafeteria, ignoring the jostling as a sophomore he recognises from last year bumps into his shoulder. Eddie absently nods at the kid’s hasty apology. Billy and Heather were so young and the time they would have had to become deeper, more rounded people had been snatched away by unforeseen forces.

He looks out at the cafeteria as students pour in, the air filled with a cacophony of laughter, excited chatter, and the occasional squeal of reuniting friends, and thinks with an ache that the high ceilings and open space is filled to the brim with potential.

Walking towards Jeff and the guys, a familiar round face framed by tight brown curls catches his eye. Grinning at the Weird Al t-shirt, Eddie thinks he suddenly understands how Dustin had become a part of the Hellfire club in Steve's timeline.

Rerouting to the group of three boys sitting huddled in the corner, looking small and lost on what is surely their first day of high school, Eddie grabs a brown plastic cafeteria tray. He places his drink and paper bag on it, so he has something to slam down as he reaches their table, punctuated by a dramatic movement of his arms.

Shocked, the three boys jerk their heads towards Eddie in unison and he grins down at them. From Dustin’s open mouth half-full of chicken nuggets, he can see that the pipsqueak has started to grow in his teeth.

The darker kid on his right with the black high top squints at Eddie suspiciously while the paler one with the dark shaggy hair on the left belligerently frowns. Dustin’s eyes widen in recognition as he looks up at his face, but Eddie is already moving, pulling out a folded A4 piece of paper from his back pocket to smack it onto the institutional grey-coloured table between them.

“You boys look like you might appreciate the cultured world of role-play gaming,” Eddie grins charmingly. High top looks down at the drawing of their demon mascot with renewed interest while shaggy looks torn. “D&D?” The latter asks quietly.

Dustin squirms, swallowing hastily and turning to his doleful friend, “Yes, let’s do it. No offence, Mike, but your heart hasn’t been in it and Nog needs room to prowl.”

High-top frowns, “It’s not been the same without Will.” Shaggy looks even more mournful, if that’s possible, and Eddie decides that this is an argument he doesn’t need to be a part of. “Think about it, boys. All lost sheep are welcome at the Hellfire Club, freaks and geeks exclusively. Become a character for a few hours every two weeks and use your strength and cunning to save the world.” Eddie smirks, “Or ruin it, whatever floats your boat.”

High-top smiles slyly, “We usually like to save the world.”

“That’s the spirit,” Eddie grins before pointing over to his friends on the other side of the cafeteria; it looks like Gareth and Dougie are arguing over a banana, which is weird because he knows Gareth hates them. “Club membership also comes with sanctuary amidst the chaos, even if we are in fact the chaotic gremlins on occasion.”

Dustin’s eyes gleam the longer that Eddie talks and he can sense the feeling of a rising convert. “Anyway, join us if you like,” He picks up his tray, “See you around, boys.” A rise of chatter sounds behind him as he leaves.

“It’s the potassium,” Eddie hears Gareth almost shriek as he approaches, placing his tray down at the top of the table. Jeff nods at him amiably before tiredly saying, “It’s the first day, I don’t know how they have the energy.”

“Yeah, and that’s good for you,” Dougie rebuts, swiping the banana out of Gareth’s grasp. The latter splutters, “No, that’s what people don’t get — it’s bad for your kidneys.”

Eddie squints at him as he reaches into the bag, pulling out a sandwich and three ugly-looking cookies. He’d already eaten the apple earlier and tucked away the little slip of paper in Steve’s handwriting telling him that he’s going to ace it today. “That doesn’t sound right,” he protests sceptically.

Gareth’s curls bounce as he shakes his head, “My uncle has kidney problems and he isn’t allowed to eat them because they’re bad for him.”

“Sounds like an issue with his body, not the fruit,” Jeff rolls his eyes and Dougie takes a deliberate chomp out of his banana. Eddie and Jeff snicker as he almost chokes on the too big bite and Gareth continues trying to convince the club of the evils of the yellow devil.

The first week of school continues in a similar vein, everyone settling in for the marathon ahead of them, and Eddie being kept sane by the grace of his friends and from knowing that he chooses to be here. Steve’s a sweetheart at home, making him special meals to celebrate his return and pinning Eddie down each day for any new due dates so they can write them on the calendar hanging on the mirror in their bedroom.

He takes the opportunity of a free period one day to visit the school library, haunting the history section to look for books that might appeal to Steve. He thumbs one glossy cover, a black and white photo of tired-looking men in a deep trench with rifles slung beside them and eyes dark under shallow, rounded metal helmets. A quote is displayed in a scrawling print beneath them: The true soldier fights not because he hates what is in front of him, but because he loves what is behind him. Eddie thinks that maybe these are the stories that Steve should hear.

Despite the peace found in their relationship, Eddie can see that Steve is still struggling. The closer that time marches towards his original departure the more Steve looks distracted; he’s taken to staring at Max’s trailer with a fixed, disturbing stare and absently fidgeting with a pensive expression when sitting beside Eddie in the evening. He’s not sure if Steve realises yet, how deeply he feels the need to keep his silence for the survival of his family, but Eddie sees it in him.

He tucks the book under his arm with another on the history of American flora, thinking that it might have the names of the wildflowers Steve had collected for their date. Some still surviving in a vase borrowed from Catherine and a small pressing stored in the box at the bottom of Eddie’s cupboard.

He’s near the end of the stacks, the quiet murmur of students distant and unseen when a hand grabs him by the elbow and spins him around. Dustin stares up at Eddie, panting slightly like he’d been hunting him down across the school, eyes determined under the shaded ambience of the bookcases looming tall above. “Where is he?” he demands.

Eddie internally nods to himself: he’d been expecting this ever since he’d approached Dustin in the cafeteria. He hadn’t mentioned his concern to Steve in case it caused him anxiety, but the kid who had tried to convince them that he wouldn’t be messing with the timeline if he told his friends is still as dogged as ever.

“Who?” Eddie responds with all the innocence he can muster.

Dustin stamps his foot, “Don’t mess with me, Eddie. What happened to Steve? Did he leave Hawkins like he said he would or is he still around? Is he okay?” His questions tumble over one another like he’s been accumulating them for years and Eddie feels for the kid because in the last one he can see to the root of Dustin’s curiosity: he is worried for Steve, no matter the version of him.

Nevertheless, this isn’t a game and he’s not going to let Steve’s sacrifice be for nothing, so he lets his face crumple in confusion, a little furrow building between his brows before subtly widening his eyes. He points to Dustin with his mouth dropping in sudden understanding, “Oh! You’re that kid. The one from the hobbit home with the nice mom. Is she doing okay these days?”

“That kid,” Dustin scoffs, hands flying to his hips in an eerie echo of Steve when Eddie forgets to wipe down the sink after shaving, “Come on, just tell me if he’s all right.”

Eddie lets a touch of pity colour his tone, “Dustin, right? You didn’t believe all that malarky about time travel, huh? Harrington paid me ten bucks to go along with his prank. I thought it was lame, but he insisted that you’d only fall for it if he was with someone unexpected.”

Dustin frowns thoughtfully and Eddie shrugs lightly with a rueful smile, “And ten bucks is ten bucks, man. Easy money. It seemed like a douchebag move to pull on a kid, but what can you say about the king? Modus operandi, right?”

Suspicion still colouring his face, Dustin shifts looking increasingly uncertain and Eddie drives the final nail into the coffin. “I saw him not too long ago, on Main I think? Brought it up but he barely remembered it. I suppose nothing changes with those jocks, right? Probably not much going on under all that hair and cloud of spray.”

“I suppose,” Dustin says slowly. “Not the douchebag thing, though,” he adds, settling back into his planted stance, the muted hues of the library carpet stretching behind him. The book spines at his back create a tapestry of fonts and colours that stretch into the distance. “He’s actually a good guy,” Dustin adorably insists, “maybe a bit of an asshole once, but you should get to know him before you judge.”

Eddie shrugs like he doesn’t vehemently agree with Dustin’s assessment of his springtime boy, already feeling a fondness settling in for the kid with his clear-sighted understanding of how good Steve is, but still has to stifle his laugh when Dustin brightens and asks, “Could he play with us sometime?”

Suppressing thoughts of the chaotic neutral cleric they’d been noodling around with for Steve back at home, Eddie shakes his head solemnly, “Sorry pipsqueak, only club members allowed.” Which is utter bollocks since Susan’s cousin had joined them last winter for a one-off.

Dustin’s shoulders drop and Eddie has underestimated the kid’s determination because he shortly comes back renewed with bright eyes, “What if he were an honorary member? He can pay if there are club fees and he may not seem it, but he’s strategic. Like he thinks ahead.”

Dustin looks away muttering something like batteries and such a nag, but Eddie doesn’t quite get it all. He folds his arms, channelling his most disapproving Steve, “No can do, little buddy. Freaks and geeks of the high school variety, no graduates allowed.”

Dustin squints at him like he’s about to bring up Eddie’s super senior status and Eddie decides that he’s going to be generous since the kid doesn’t actually say it, otherwise he may have earned himself a roll disadvantage from the beginning. He grips Dustin’s shoulder, directing him towards the librarian so he can check out Steve’s books, “Look kid, I respect the loyalty, but it’s Hellfire club members only. Maybe you can do your own thing with him.”

Dustin grimaces but nods and Eddie can already hear Steve’s voice taunting the younger boy with his unwillingness to play, but he redirects him by asking about his usual campaign character. He’s not sure if Dustin fully believes Eddie’s lies or if he only allows himself to believe but, either way, the two spend the rest of Eddie’s free period talking about how Nog the Dwarf could potentially create enhanced tools and other artifacts.

Eddie had thought Dustin would be his only mountain to climb until he encountered the sceptical faces of his teachers one by one.

Most, he figured, would get on board as he continues to hand up decent homework. Thankfully, Mr Mundy is already convinced by Eddie’s work on his pre-calc work in the final months of last year and Ms Kelly has smoothed the way with Click, Kaminski, and Bower in that they refuse to look at him in class but accept the work he hands up. Coach Harbour however had stared at him dead blank from the first day and little has happened to move him since then.

It’s weeks later, beyond the boxy body of the school’s structure, the meticulously crafted paths of the running track are studded with the thud, thud, thud of the boys and girls of gym class running the circuit against a backdrop of the vibrant hues of reds, oranges, and browns away in the woods far behind them.

Eddie stands small next to the tall figure of Coach Harbour, his big gut and bushy eyebrows making him larger than life. “What can I do, Coach?” Eddie pleads, already having explained that he wants to get his diploma again.

Harbour twitches his eyebrows and the first lap thuds past, “It’s been years. Why’s this so important to you, Munson?” The birch trees sway in the distance, an agitated dance beneath the open sky.

Eddie grits his teeth and shoves his bare fists into his green gym short pockets, “I’ve got plans.” He sees Harbour’s expression at the corner of his eye and insists, “I want to do something and it means that I have to get a B average at minimum.”

Harbour scoffs, “So no more selling under the bleachers then.”

Eddie grimaces at being caught out, feeling chagrined and a little bashful, but mostly, oddly feeling like he owes Harbour for all the times that he’d had allowed him to sit out of games where he was liable to break his nose.

“I want to get into nursing school,” Eddie confesses and Harbour twitches, ever so slightly turning to look at Eddie’s face like he wants to make sure that what he's hearing is right.

“Nursing?” he repeats doubtfully.

Eddie eyes him, allowing sincerity to saturate his tone, letting it positively bleed with honesty, “Nursing school, I want to be a nurse. I will be a nurse; I just need to pass this year first.”

Harbour has turned to look at him wholly now and Eddie confesses, “That’s why I came back, I’m determined to do it this year. And I will. But I’m really hoping that I can convince you to help me to make it because you and I both know that I’ll smash my nose on the floor given half the chance.”

Harbour makes an expression that Eddie is helpless to call anything but a scowl, but he’s not sure since the older man says, “Look, Munson. You’re my worst student. I’ve never seen someone so uncoordinated. But I can admire perseverance and, despite all good advice to the contrary, you seem determined to get your diploma.”

Eddie desperately nods as a group go thundering past, the air leaving behind a whirlwind energy of relentless pursuit.

Harbour sighs, “How’s this? You’ve not finished the mile run once in my class. You run it in eight minutes and I’ll give you a B plus.” Eddie pumps his fist in the air and decides not to be insulted that Coach had given him the girls' requirement rather than boys’ seven minutes or under.

“Thank you,” Eddie says eagerly, “I know that it’s generous.” Coach Harbour nods and Eddie resists bowing elaborately, figuring that the small-town gym coach may take it in a mocking manner. Nonetheless, he thanks him profusely before heading back to change out of the green and grey uniform that he feels should give him hives, just for the spite of it.

As he heads to the open doors that lead to the gym, he hears the familiar voices of Gareth and two of their three new Hellfire recruits, Dustin and Mike. Eddie leans around the corner, stretching his neck to see Dustin pulling his shirt down by the edges to show its graphic of stalwart characters from the Dungeons and Dragons cartoon huddling against the dastardly Venger, Force of Evil.

“Presto, for sure,” Dustin says in an argumentative tone, pointing a commanding finger to a boy in a blue wizard’s hat, “he’s the youngest, but the most creative and tries the hardest.”

Gareth shrugs, sipping his TAB before throwing it in a nearby trashcan with a distant clunk. “I’m just saying, you can’t go past magic energy arrows. Eric always makes me laugh though; he’s the group’s shield, but in the end is really a snob that bitches his way through any given situation.”

“Sounds like someone we know,” Mike scoffs, casually leaning against the brick wall in a way that reminds Eddie of Steve looking like Marlon Brando next to his van during that first visit. He squints suspiciously as Mike kicks his knee up too, just like Steve.

Dustin shrugs, “Eric’s the unexpected badass, you can’t deny it.”

“Yeah, but Eric didn’t date my sister,” Mike furrows his brow at Dustin as if he can't deny such a good point.

“And a cavalier holds the line,” Dustin continues like he hadn’t heard Mike, tugging his shirt back to lay it down naturally again. “Unwavering. And Eric was a former noble too.”

Eddie draws back around the corner, snickering into his fist. He’s trying to remember whether the cartoon still plays on Saturday mornings because he absolutely has to introduce Steve to the complaining, egotistical character with a hidden heroic heart. He’s going to hate it and Eddie feels the thrill of it down to his toes.

The two boys pause as if holding a staring contest until he hears Mike blow out a defeated breath, “Fine! Yes, I can see it, but don’t you dare tell anyone.”

Eddie’s about to leave them to it, because he still needs to change into his civvies and the bell is due soon. He’s concentrating on not pissing off his teachers by being chronically late again like previous years. But as he retreats, he hears a disturbance; just something slight but enough that Eddie unconsciously recognises it and has already swivelled to stride back already.

He turns the corner to see the tall figures of Jason, Patrick, Andy, and Chance grouped together; all of them wearing their green and white varsity jackets, making a united wall against the younger boys who are backed against the bricks behind them.

Jason has a finger pointed at Dustin’s shirt with Patrick glowering closely at his shoulder. Andy and Chance look bored, but they still stand with their teammates.

Despite huddling together against the subtly looming threat, Dustin scowls defiantly up at them and Mike, at his side, looks ready to barrel forward and tackle the older boy if they go too far. At the thought, Eddie feels a jitter of nervousness for Mike; Jason doesn’t advertise violence, but rebelling against him hasn’t worked out for a lot of people.

Jason had been speaking in a low tone so it takes until Eddie is closer to fully hear him as he warns Dustin, “Those that invite the devil only glory him, and you are bringing sin onto Hawkins by wearing demonic imagery.” His voice had taken on the cadence of a Sunday preacher, inviting and condemning in the same breath.

Eddie looks down at the goofy image of Venger with his cartoonish scowl and red and black bat wings and rolls his eyes. Andy sees him round the corner as he does and grimaces at him with a shrug, reminding Eddie of when they’d spoken at the drive-through.

While he might normally appreciate the comradery, Eddie’s still disturbed that the guy is standing back while a group of high school seniors corner a couple of freshmen. They overshadow the smaller boys and the potential for the bigger ones to hurt his sheepies has Eddie’s heart starting to thump.

Yet, Eddie feels a flicker of pride as Gareth scowls, stepping forward an inch in defence of the smaller club members, “It’s just a shirt, Jason, leave him alone.”

Jason looks down with one long nose at cherub-faced Gareth, lips curling disdainfully at the loud Anthrax and Motörhead patches; but it’s at the Quiet Riot image that his gaze sharpens, on it a man strains against a red straight jacket under a hockey mask like Jason Voorhees.

Jason subtly moves until he’s leaning forward over the short figure of Gareth, a dark shadow flitting across his face. He reaches out with a delicate finger to touch the flannel besides the embroidery and Gareth swallows, stepping back with wide eyes like Jason has paralysed him.

“You should be a better role model,” Jason says, his voice low and easy, like he's being reasonable. It makes anger jump in Eddie’s chest, billowing against the injustice of the strong pushing around the weak. “We would welcome you at the Faith Centre and you’d learn how to shepherd with care; with virtue and compassion, you could do a lot for our community.”

Eddie grinds his teeth to keep a hold of his thinning patience; getting angry isn’t going to help him any. Jason doesn’t play like Billy and Tommy and the others who like getting their fists involved in their fights. Rather, Jason will make sure that the boys are ostracised, and treated like they're wrong and dirty until they play ball. Jason in particular enjoys a grovelling public apology.

Eddie puffs up his chest and shoulders, displeased that he’s without his leather jacket and battle vest, and strides forward through the taller guys, scattering them through surprise alone to hang a heavy arm around Jason’s shoulders.

Jason jerks, losing his cool composure and eyes widening in shock that anyone like Eddie would dare to touch him, but Eddie holds on, gripping his shoulder tightly and making sure to roll the words off his tongue salaciously. “What about me, Jason baby? Going to welcome me at the local pew, kneel down with me for a while, huh? Forgive me Father, let’s do some sinning?”

Jason scowls in disgust, pushing at Eddie with a hard shove and Eddie lets him go. He quickly regains his athletic footing, “Don’t touch me, you freak. And the unrepentant sinner is unwelcome.”

He points a finger in Eddie’s face, so he waggles his tongue at it, further disturbing Jason if his nauseous expression is anything to go by. He hears Mike snicker behind him and Eddie’s relieved that they remain uncowed.

“Jason, come on, man. It’s nearly time for class,” Andy’s voice sounds to their left and Eddie spares him a glance, he looks particularly unenthusiastic. An expression matched by Chance if his yawning mouth is anything to go by. Eddie idly wonders if they’re even of the same faith.

Patrick glares at his friend, “He’s just trying to help the freshman, Andy. You know how people talk, and they’re only inviting trouble if they walk around like devil worshippers.” He points his glare to Eddie for a moment who insincerely smiles at him through his teeth.

He’s about to say something along the lines of better devil worshippers than bullying pricks when he remembers his conversation with Andy while waiting for popcorn. Deciding instead that he doesn’t need to make this situation worse than it is, especially since he can’t know how it could blow up on the freshman, who still have years of high school ahead of them, he changes his argument.

“Well, you’re not helping any, Patrick,” Eddie says with a reproachful shake of his head, “all you’re doing is picking on some freshman because they watch a kids’ cartoon show.” Patrick blinks and Chance coughs behind him like he’s stifling a laugh. “If you’ve got a problem with their shirt, you should write to the ABC; you can have them take it down along with Alvin and The Chipmunks and G.I. Joe.”

The bell rings above them, the loud shriek of it cutting off whatever Patrick is about to say next. Jason sees the students approaching the entrance and jerks his head for his friends to follow him.

Still, he looks over at Dustin before he departs, a slithery sort of calmness to him as he leaves his parting advice, “Just because it’s popular, doesn’t mean that it’s right. Be aware of those who would lead you astray.” He directs a hard glance at Eddie before striding off, leading the way like a devout duck on holy water, his teammates following in his stream.

Eddie glances over at the boys, Dustin is already rolling his eyes, Mike is muttering something about dickheads, but Gareth is looking down at the ground, balled-up fists shaking. “Are you okay?” Eddie asks gently, cautiously laying a comforting hand on his shoulder.

“I tried,” Gareth says quietly.

“I know,” Eddie slings a friendly arm around him, squeezing him to his side. “You did good, too. It’s not easy to talk back to Jason.”

Mike snorts, “What? He thinks he’s the king around here.”

“There was only one king,” Dustin says loyally, grabbing his bag from the ground, a textbook slides out immediately, creating a puff of dirt as it smacks against the ground.

“Oh, yeah. Who was that?” Eddie asks faux innocently, jostling Gareth. Gareth blinks, looking up at Dustin. “Oh my god, you don’t mean Steve Harrington do you? Does he still call himself that?”

Eddie surprises himself with how hard he snorts at the idea, knowing how little Steve likes the moniker given to him by others.

Mike wrinkles his nose in performative disgust, “No, he wouldn’t. He’s got a big head to match all that hair, but it’s not that bad.” He looks over at Dustin uncertainly, who’s shoving his book back in and sliding the zipper only half-shut, “We just heard that the king was his nickname when he was here.”

“Well, he’s not anymore. The king is dead, long live the king and all that,” Eddie steers Gareth away and the boys follow, Mike quickly grabbing his bag off the dirt track too.

Gareth laughs to Eddie, “Oh shit, do you remember when Tommy went off the rails after Steve bowed out of whatever the fuck was going on last year.” His face quickly falls, likely thinking of when he’d run away after Tommy had gotten up in Eddie’s face that day by the lockers.

Disliking his despondent expression, Eddie adjusts his hold, bending Gareth into a headlock and knuckling against the curls on his scalp. Gareth yelps and starts to buck, finally pulling away he moves as if to wedgie Eddie, so he gives a gentlemanly shriek and dives behind Dustin to cry out, “Nay fiendish foe, no sinister figure shall oppress me this day.”

Gareth fakes a dodge left before jumping at Eddie’s right; Eddie scuttles behind Mike, letting his eyes go wide and hair wild, but Mike decides to betray him and join the fray. The boys’ laughter rings out across the quad and Eddie’s going to be late today, but it’ll be worth it.

 

 

Notes:

there was definitely some Mushu-from-Mulan-tone from Steve as he tells Eddie to get along with the other kids 😄

Chapter 27: Fade Away

Summary:

Last chapter, Eddie lied to Dustin and told him that Future Steve's first visit was a prank; he also defended his new Hellfire sheepies from a menacing Jason Carver.

This chapter, Eddie befriends Max and Steve's blips through time take on a new, disturbing direction.

Notes:

I really can't believe how far we've come into the story since I first started posting 😯

Eddie jealously watches the undisturbed calm across Steve’s face before slapping the button on his piercing alarm clock.

Despite Steve being a delicate sleeper, uncannily aware of the little movements in and around their bed, he’d adapted to Eddie’s near-daily runs rather quickly, and Steve continues to snore contentedly into the deep of his pillow. Eddie eyes him with envy, thinking of all the creative ways he could replace the pillow under Steve’s lax, pink lips instead.

The hint of morning dawn peeks through the bedroom window, painting the room in gold and pink and Eddie contemplates it for one hate-filled moment before determinedly rolling out of bed, softly hitting the floor with a grunt and already thinking of the drip coffee waiting for him if he only makes himself move.

Passing the kitchen, he hits the switch above the carafe to start the drip that he’d organised the night before, ignores his uncle’s snoring, pulls on his sneakers, and jogs out towards the rising sun.

Running is awful and he hates it, but he pushes through the feeling of his lungs seizing along with clenching calf muscles in the cold morning, his breath exhaling in belligerent clouds. Coach had said eight minutes and under; and, after that first time he’d timed himself, Eddie had discovered this wasn’t going to be a walk in the park. Or run, as it were.

Between Coach and Steve, he’s gotten plenty of advice, which boils down to practise and keep on practising until Eddie no longer wants to throw up at the end of every run. Steve even had the gall to look jealous of Eddie’s new exercise regime and, if it weren’t for the fact that he keeps making him delicious morning smoothies, Eddie might have held it against him for longer than the two-point-five seconds it took him to fold in the face of that damned earnest expression.

Thumbing the play button on his new knock-off Walkman, the plastic covered in a demonic, crackling red, he starts to warm up to the eerie music of Stonehenge. It’s the boredom of running that had been hardest at the beginning, Eddie recalls as the interlude fades into Disturbing the Priest with a ghostly thumping heartbeat.

The physical aspect is difficult and makes him spiteful as the devil, but the boredom is a thousand times worse. The free time gives him nothing but room to think, which he tried to take advantage of for his stories and lyrics; except by the time he’s gotten home, red-faced and puffing, he’s already forgotten half of the twists and dialogue that he’d been noodling around with.

But the music helps distract his busy mind; this morning’s unsettling lyrics and ringing church bells of Black Sabbath suit early Hawkins. Halloween is fast approaching and the weather has solidly turned into cold, dark nights against orange and crimson days. The lingering mist at the corners of the trailers creates an ethereal light that Eddie strides through as he takes his path beyond Forrest Hills, down the long length of curving roads and to the edge of the abandoned Hillside playground.

At the marker, he stops, bending over at the waist and sucking in desperate breaths, his face and lungs feeling like they’re on fire.

Eying the desolate space to distract himself by remembering visits when he’d been younger, he sadly contemplates the broken seat swinging forlornly against bare dirt, held by the barest clutch of a rusted red chain, before turning and shakily pushing off to return home.

In the trailer park, Eddie looks away when he passes Joe Hamilton, rounding his brown truck to unhook a vacant-eyed and bloodied deer strapped down by the tailgate in the cab. Sunlight glints against the hunting rifles attached to the gun rack on the roof. But he does wave to Millie as she takes out a black plastic bag of trash, her youngest son hiding shyly behind her legs while staring at Eddie with an unwavering gaze. She smiles back at him with a friendly nod. He sees a twitch of the curtain at Max’s trailer, but no sign of mother or daughter.

Slowing to a walk, Eddie paces out to the dark shadows at the edge of the woods and back again to cool down. Feeling like the light becomes brighter the closer he walks to home.

He’s flipped the cassette a couple of times now, so it’s unsurprising when his exercise ends on the same song. Ozzy rails against the figure of a priest, set in opposition to the devil but Eddie reckons that it’s the religious figure that is in dark disguise, with icy fingers fanning electric lies.

He mulls on the cold expression across Jason Carver’s face as Ozzy says to disturb the priest, thinks of how he’s not violent like Billy or Tommy, but there are rumours. Quiet little whispers about teammates and cheerleaders who haven’t toed the line, and it niggles at Eddie. A little reminder of a character that might be the villain he’s looking for in the Hellfire campaign.

He's sketched out the outline of adventures for the year ahead but has yet to find the right creature for the ultimate battle. It itches at him, the need to set up foreshadowing and themes, but still struggling to find the right monster while he’s concentrating on schoolwork.

Eddie forgets it momentarily as he walks into the comforting domesticity of the trailer, Wayne and Steve both watching cartoons quietly on the couch. Wayne still in his Bugs Bunny pyjamas with a red mug filled with coffee and Steve nibbling on a corner of toast. It’s such an ordinary setting but watching the two of them chuckle over duck versus rabbit season, his heart turns over in a sweet ache, nonetheless.

Steve looks up as he enters, face already brightening. “Eddie,” he says delightedly like he’s been absent for days rather than a brief hour. He strides into the kitchen, already pulling apart bananas to chop into a smoothie and Eddie follows, boxing him against a corner.

With his palms framing Steve’s adorable face with its lovely beauty marks and love shining bright in his eyes already, Eddie kisses him. Takes him in and showers adoration over him, delight and beauty in return for his springtime boy who waits for him at the end of his morning journey.

Eventually, Steve draws away, humming in satisfaction. “What brought that on?” he asks, licking his lips.

Eddie smirks, pressing forward briefly while surreptitiously stealing a banana from behind his back, “You were irresistible, that’s what brought it on.”

It’s less covert as he stands there peeling the yellow fruit, but Steve watches him first with amusement and then with darkening eyes as Eddie continues to eat, messily and with deliberate relish.

The bathroom door slams open and the two jolt, not having noticed that Wayne had already gotten up, showered, and is now tidying the living area. He makes an observation about the game playing this afternoon to Steve and Eddie backs away, leaving to have his own much-needed shower and thinking about how he can mess with Steve later.

Steve is still in the kitchen when Eddie returns, showered and feeling grudgingly energetic as he enters in his jeans, flannel jacket, and warm Garfield slippers. He hates every moment of running but he can’t deny the feeling of his brain pinging by the end of it; nor that a sort of industrious smugness fills him at being up and active before the rest of the household.

Cartoons continue to play in the background, but Wayne ignores the excited voices as he reads his newspaper in the armchair. Eddie never sees the delivery person, even with his morning runs now, but he knows that he or she must exist or The Hawkins Post employs some sort of cryptid creature that fades in and out of Forrest Hills every morning.

Walking past, he glances at the bowl of gloop in Steve’s mixing bowl before grabbing the remote and turning it to the ABC. “You making more cookies?” Eddie asks, watching Cobra run away while calling out Retreat! Retreat!

Wayne raises himself at Steve’s affirmative and makes eye contact with Eddie. He waggles his head slightly in a halfway nod to indicate that Steve has somewhat improved the homemade cookies in their lunch bags. Not by a standard that would have Wayne happily eating them yet, but enough that Eddie doesn’t have to completely lie about finishing them at school.

Steve starts dishing rounds spoonfuls evenly onto the baking trays, saying, “I think I tweaked the recipe right this time.”

Wayne dips behind the paper with a muted sigh; no matter how his uncle tries to guide him, Steve is stubbornly convinced that baking is about experimentation rather than exact measurements. Eddie just tries to keep out of the kitchen and eat what they give him with gratitude.

It's not long later until Steve is spooning out another tray and placing the cooling cookies on an amber glass plate. He shoves the finished product into Eddie’s surprised hands. “Here, take these to Max. I’ve added carrot this time and it’s one of the few vegetables she’ll eat. Hopefully, the sugar will tempt her.”

Eddie desperately ignores the pointed rustling of Wayne’s newspaper and books it out the door before anyone says anything, forgetting to change his shoes in his rush. “Sure,” he sings out, the door already slamming shut behind him.

Despite the sun peeking out through wispy clouds, Eddie shivers in the cool air as he crosses the way to the Mayfield home. He knocks on the door and waits, fidgeting as he looks out at the park.

Thoughtfully watching the empty area in front of the Hamilton’s, he assumes that Joe took the deer elsewhere to be dressed since he sees no sign of it near their place or his truck. Eddie thinks he can still see a smudge of red though, even from this distance.

Max reluctantly opens the door, the hinges squeaking sullenly as if in support of its mistress. “What do you want?” she asks belligerently, which is an impressive attitude for a girl in rainbow pyjamas.

He holds out the plate, hoping that the warm scent of baked sugar is enticing enough to soothe whatever beast powers Max. “Here, these are for you — a welcome gift.” Eddie smiles charmingly and is unsurprised when she barely twitches.

“We’ve been here for ages now,” she counters, though her gaze does dip briefly once the smell drifts through her entranceway.

Eddie’s smile determinedly broadens; Steve had wanted Max to have cookies, so Max is going to have cookies whether she likes it or not. He pushes the plate closer, “All the more reason to welcome you again, can’t have you thinking we’ve forgotten you already.”

Still, Max Mayfield is no one’s sucker and she eyes the ugly bumps of carrot in the cooked dough, “They look like garbage.” Her gaze drops further, taking in his fluffy, orange slippers with a rising brow.

“My partner made them,” Eddie immediately rats Steve out, refusing to reflect on how the judgement of a teenage girl made him betray his boyfriend so quickly. But he can feel the embarrassment of it heating through him; he has nothing to be ashamed about, he thinks hastily, and a little anxiously.

Her gaze flicks beyond him to his trailer in the short distance, “Is that the shut-in who never leaves your place?”

The jitters settle as a different, more important question drapes itself over Eddie’s mind. Max is one of Steve’s kids and, by the time he’d fallen through the portal, he still hadn’t told them about his sexuality yet. It would bug him sooner rather than later, he’d said. Meaning that Eddie has an opportunity right now to test the waters and possibly pave the path for Steve in the future.

“Yes,” Eddie says firmly, looking dead into those clever blue eyes, “he’s finding it hard to leave the trailer for reasons that aren’t his fault, but he thought you looked like a nice kid.”

Max blinks, flickering between Eddie and the trailer again. Disappointment fills him and Eddie shifts to move the dish away, already wondering what he’ll say to Steve. “It’s okay,” he lies, “I can always say you tried them but they weren’t to your taste.”

Unexpectedly, Max lunges forward, swiping the plate from him with a sniff after too long a pause. “That’s not what I said. I’ll try them and let you know what I think.” She looks abashedly down at the truly ugly baked goods. “You shouldn’t give up so easily when he made something homemade.”

Eddie’s smile spreads in an involuntary beaming response. Max winces like it’s too bright for her in the morning, but Eddie doesn’t care because Max is okay with her random neighbour—let alone Steve who has to be closer to her—being gay. “Fantastic,” he says, grinning hard and she rolls her eyes like she can hear his thoughts already. But he doesn’t care because Steve’s Max is going to be good with him having a boyfriend in the future.

He’s riding high on the endorphins, the triumph of Max’s response mixing with the buoyancy from his morning run, so Eddie automatically extends the invitation, “Hey, you’re at Hawkins High, you should come check out my club. We play this game called D&D, it’s tabletop role-playing and—”

With an obnoxious groan, Max cuts him off, “You’re not trying to get me to play that garbage game too, are you?”

Eddie startles back, finally scowling at her attitude. “It’s not garbage,” he protests, “it requires creativity and a sharp mind. We even have some freshmen playing this year too, you could make some friends.”

Max rolls her eyes even as she carefully brings the plate down to her hip, “It’s for dorks who want to dress up like wizards.”

“That too,” Eddie grins, thinking that he’d like her sharpness in his campaigns.

“No thanks,” she says, flat once more. “But… thank your partner for me.”

Eddie’s smile grows again and he can barely feel the heat behind her renewed glare, “Okay, Red. I will, thanks.”

She wags her head in an uncertain way like Eddie had to Wayne earlier and closes the door in his face, but Eddie struts back to their trailer. “She liked them,” he declares to a waiting Steve on the couch. Wayne raises his eyebrows sceptically but continues reading.

“Yeah?” Steve beams and moves back into the kitchen to pull out the next cooked batch. Eddie flaps a careless hand at his uncle, watching from his corner; yes, Eddie says with the gesture, he’ll eat the entire lot, no matter the amount kindly allocated for Wayne and Catherine.

Despite his grumpiness, Wayne eventually leaves with a familiar amber glass plate as he heads to his girlfriend’s place. And whether he or Catherine bin the offering, no one will witness it and, despite Wayne’s judgements, Steve will never know either.

It’s later that day when it happens.

Eddie’s sitting at Steve’s feet, bent over the coffee table as he flips through his monster manual, knowing that the final villain is here somewhere when Steve turns to him. His hand lightly touches Eddie’s shoulder before his face screws up in confusion, “Baby, I’m feeling weird.” Eddie cocks his head, trying to figure out what Steve means when he starts to fade.

Not the instant disappearance that Eddie had seen in the kitchen, with the green screwdriver falling to the floor suddenly, but Steve staring at Eddie in bewilderment and the edges falling into his centre.

Panic flares through Eddie and he desperately reaches out, but the transparency fills Steve’s frame and then body, and Eddie’s hand reaches through him. Steve looks up from staring down at his body, mouth open in shock and then blip he disappears once again.

Fuck.

Eddie rocks forward, a keening sound falling from his mouth in grief and horror. This isn’t simply Steve falling through time; this is him being assaulted, being changed by something powerful and unknowable. A type of magic or science, Eddie doesn’t know, but what he does know is that the man he loves wasn’t only stolen from him through time but made to feel it.

Eddie’s hand flies to his mouth to contain the bile filing it. The nauseous feeling rising at the conviction that something wrong has happened to Steve and he has no idea what to do. What can he do? He’s a useless human boy with no magic and no science and Steve is fading through time now. Fading, he moans, rocking back and forth. What the fuck does fading mean now?

Eddie’s not sure how long time passes. Whether it’s minutes or hours, it’s surely not days before he hears a yell as a falling object slams from the ceiling to the floor.

The thud echoes through the trailer and shudders under Eddie’s seat.

Pulse jumping, he scrambles towards the moaning body sprawled face-down on the carpet. What the fuck, Eddie thinks, Steve has never returned so quickly before. He hovers over him, uncertain as to whether he should reach out when time could move through him like moments before.

Steve huffs out a breath and rolls over onto his back, wary hazel eyes immediately finding Eddie’s, “That was freaky, right?”

Eddie feels his face crumple in relief that Steve seems okay, his hands hiding his expression away, unexpected tears wetting his palms.

“Shh, baby. No, baby, it’s okay,” Steve sits up, folding Eddie’s shaking frame into his arms. “It’s okay, I’m here,” he continues to reassure Eddie, but Eddie doesn’t know how to accept it: Steve’s body had disappeared, not in some weird blip but slowly and deliberately, like his physical body was immaterial and of no importance.

Eddie has never had to think about what to do against the blip, always considering it a powerful force like God. But he thinks today that it had made Steve’s body irrelevant, of so little importance that it could disappear pieces of him bit by bit like snapping ruthless bites out of an apple — Eddie has no idea what to do with that, but he feels like he needs to fight it.

“Eddie, look at me,” Steve pulls up Eddie’s face, still gasping for desperate breaths against the horror that he has seen. If Steve can disappear in new ways, then he can disappear, period.

It is a concept that Eddie thought he had forgotten after Steve reappeared while lying on top of his bed thinking what ifs. And even though Steve hadn’t actually blipped in time during that particular instance, Eddie now realises that he’d come to expect a certain pattern from it all: Steve disappears in a blip and in a similar blip reappears again.

What if Steve doesn’t only vanish but fades, and fading is permanent? Fading to nothing, like the morning mist. Here only because the weather demands it but weakening at the first force of the heat of the day. An inexorable power that shapes Steve into a ghostly shroud, a whisper only seen at the edges by a runner striding through the soft haze, not even registering the forever death of his lover.

Eddie gags, choking on the rising nausea filling his throat and he tumbles out of Steve’s arms, scrambling into the bathroom. Churning liquids spill into the toilet he hangs over. He retches, unable even to appreciate the irony of Steve helping him as he softly strokes a soothing hand down his back.

Eventually, Eddie sits back, sourness sitting in his mouth but taking comfort from resting against Steve’s broad chest.

“Baby?” Steve’s voice is gentle, and Eddie abruptly realises that he probably doesn’t even know the time that’s passed. Forced to look after a panicking Eddie as soon he’d landed, groaning onto the carpet.

“It was like an hour or so,” Eddie rasps, voice strained from throwing up so violently.

Steve stretches upwards and water splashes before the bathroom glass is presented in front of him, somewhat cleaner than usual and full of water. Eddie takes a refreshing gulp. “Okay,” Steve murmurs, taking care of Eddie.

And he continues to take care of him through the night and beyond that. Time passes because Eddie has no choice but to let it pass, days and time, school and meals, eating and shitting, and little gestures to his uncle and smiles for his friends, and notetaking in his class. Eddie has no choice but to let the everyday happen.

But he can’t forget what it took from him either; those terrible seconds that stole Steve away from the outside in.

Steve had been helpless to explain it too. “It felt strange,” he’d had explained later with a shrug. “I don’t know how to say it other than that. There was a sound…” Steve shook his head, helplessly trying to figure out what he’d heard. “But then I was here a moment later and it was like everything happened in seconds again, but I could feel it for the first time. It was… weird,” Steve ended in frustration, and Eddie listened to him just as helplessly, knowing that there is little he can do but serve as witness, like he’s on the fringes watching Steve fall beneath his own landslide, buried beneath the earth and Eddie is too far away to offer his hand.

But time passes, as it inevitably does. Classes full of skills and ideas, gym class studded by thudding feet under Coach’s eyes as he continues to work for his grade, and Halloween dawns with a muted sun peaking behind grey clouds.

The trailer door slaps behind him as he leaves for school and, across the way, he sees Max staring down at her skateboard in consternation. He ambles over and sees that she’s holding a broken wheel in one hand.

“You okay?” he asks, concerned with how pale she looks in the morning light.

She sighs tiredly, “Yeah, I just busted my board. I’ve got spares since I’ve been meaning to replace them, but I don’t have time to do it before school starts.” She looks up from contemplating the pieces in her hand and takes in the black bandana tied over his hair and the neat little moustache he’d drawn over his lip.

“What are you supposed to be?” She half-laughs and Eddie takes the sound as a personal win. He hasn’t pushed it, but he’s made a point to greet Max and her mom, and Steve continues to send him over with cookies; between it all, Max has come to the conclusion that he only deserves about a third of the scorn he’d earned at their first meeting.

He playfully settles into a sword-fighting stance with one hand covering his left eye. “I’m a scurvy pirate, lass,” he growls and Max rolls her eyes, but he fancies he sees a glimmer of amusement rising at the back of them.

“You’re hopeless,” she says, “and if you’re going to do that why don’t you just wear an eye patch.”

Eddie drops his arm after one last roll of his wrist in the air, “Nah, the elastic will drive me crazy all day. Anyway, I think the ‘stache carries the same dapper air.”

Max walks over and bins the wheel into her trashcan, “Well, those that can’t grow, draw.”

“Oh, hardy fucking har, Red,” Eddie grumbles, crossing his arms and annoyed since Steve had razzed him about something similar, leaning against the bathroom door frame and heckling Eddie as he carefully drew with eyeliner in the mirror reflection. “I can grow a moustache.”

“Sure, you can. A super senior like you, it’d be embarrassing otherwise.” She ignores him flipping her the double bird with his best pirate scowl and eyes his van, “Give me a ride?”

Eddie stops himself from blinking in surprise, figuring that when the feral cat in the park finally deigns to accept a pat you just roll with it rather than question the sudden affection. “Yeah, absolutely. But hand me the spares for your wheels before you go, I’ll give them to the boyfriend. He’ll love something to do with his hands during the day.”

Steve had been anxious at the thought of the increased foot traffic during the holiday like somehow it’s going to result in Dustin and the kids pushing their way into the trailer and pointing out that Steve is in the wrong place. Eddie snorts, no one goes out of their way for the treats on offer at Forrest Hills.

Meanwhile, Eddie had been trying to convince him to enjoy the night on the porch couch together, clad in a sheet with eye holes to protect his identity. Steve had given him a scathing look to indicate how pathetic he thought the idea, but at least fixing Max’s skateboard will keep him busy today.

She purses her lips, thinking before finally shrugging and walking back into her place. Coming out with the new wheels, she hands them and the board to Eddie, but holds tight when he moves to tug them away, “They better come back in the same condition.” Her tone is full of warning; yet, Eddie can see the tightness in her expression like someone suddenly pushed onto a tightrope without a net waiting beneath them.

Most times Eddie’s seen Max outside of the trailer she’d been skating or practising tricks, like the thin piece of wood is an extension of her body. He also rarely sees her mother driving her to school or elsewhere, so he suspects that the item is very personal and vital to Max’s feelings of independence.

He nods solemnly, taking them from her gently, “Promise. The boyfriend likes you, and I swear he’d never want to mess up your stuff.”

Winking before walking away, he says, “Plus, someone has to eat those cookies.” A huff of laughter follows him as he walks back into a surprised Steve, already taking the wheels and board from Eddie’s hands as he explains Max’s predicament.

“And she asked for the ride? You didn’t offer?” Steve asks, brows high.

Eddie twirls his fingers above the painted moustache, “Everyone likes a pirate.”

Steve laughs, twirling his own finger in the air to tell Eddie to leave him to it, and Eddie does with a quick kiss before he leaves. Only a small peck to keep his costume intact, and sliding out the door so Max can’t see inside the trailer. He needn’t have worried since she’s already waiting in the passenger seat, without invitation; once again cementing his impression of her as a feline taking up whatever space it wants.

The drive is in an quiet yet agreeable atmosphere, broken only by the subtle jolts from the rough road underneath while the black of it stretches ahead like a ribbon. Max watches Eddie's fingers tapping along with the frenetic beat of Motörbreath on the steering wheel. “I like this,” she says, “it sounds angry.”

“I can loan you the tape if you like — give you time to appreciate the lyrics,” Eddie offers and she shrugs.

“It sort of reminds me of Billy: living and dying, heavy and mean.”

The player marches into Jump in the Fire while Eddie cautiously contemplates his answer and thinks that he doesn’t have much more to offer other than honesty. “He was pretty mean,” he finally says, holding his breath.

Max lets out a harumph, folding her arms in irritation, “Now that he’s dead everyone talks about him like he was a saint. Half the people that’ve come up to me to express their regrets didn’t even know him.”

He releases a quiet breath in relief.

“You know, I keyed his car once,” Eddie says, shooting her a small smirk and slowing at the stop sign. A woman holding the hand of a young child walks across the crossing, waving to them in thanks.

“No,” Max says in disbelief, “That was you?”

He carefully accelerates, heading onto Richmond Road before the school’s turnoff. “Billy was way above my paygrade, which is why I had to be sneaky in my revenge.”

She whistles low and long in admiration as he pulls into his park, “He was livid; like I avoided him for a week rather than be near that.”

Students stream towards the open doors of Hawkins High. Most in casual wear, but a few freaks like Eddie are dressed up in costume. He sees a vampire, a hockey mask, and one girl all in pink who either likes the colour that much or is a Molly Ringwald fan.

“I’m sorry if I caused you extra problems by pissing him off,” he says, pulling out the key from the ignition but not moving to leave yet. Against the backdrop of the window, her hair flairs a brilliant red, but the light only serves to contrast against her dull complexion. He’s uncomfortably reminded of Steve fading in front of his eyes and has the sudden urge to reach out and grab her hand, to stop her from vanishing too.

Instead, he watches as she sighs, sluggishly unfolding her arms, “Nah. That’s just what he was like. If it wasn’t you, it would’ve been someone or something else.”

He thinks of Steve astutely pinning down Eddie’s father on his bullshit excuses that allowed him to let loose his anger and recognises an echo of it in Max’s reasoning, a beat shared between the two of them whether she knows it or not. He wonders too if, like Eddie, Max feels the weight of responsibility for the decisions made by her absent family member.

He drums his fingers against the steering wheel, “I may have been older than him, but there’s some crazy you don’t want to mess with. Add a guy boiling over in rage with those muscles: there was no way I was doing anything but a bit of covert siege damage.”

She eyes two boys fighting with homemade lightsabres, one painted green and the other blue, laughing as they try to trip each other. “Maybe you just needed to push against him more, like you could’ve fought him and won if you really tried.”

“No,” he says so firmly that her gaze flies to him in surprise like she’d expected a sympathetic murmur or some other ineffectual nonsense. “That’s a losing proposition. It wasn’t my responsibility to rein him in or anyone else’s either.” She blinks at him, expression stilling like she’s concentrating very hard on Eddie’s words. “He was old enough to make his own choices and when his choices hurt others… well, it wasn’t their fault.”

One of the boys outside finally trips and the other crows loudly with his arms up in the air. Max turns to look at them, hiding her face. “That sucks,” she finally says, voice tight, “you shouldn’t have had to deal with that from him.”

“No,” Eddie says simply and honestly, hoping that some of this is sticking with her, a handful of water loosening the hard soil enough to shake loose old and tired thoughts rooted deep. At least, he thinks what might be old and tired since he can only guess what’s going on in her mind and can only talk from his own experience.

He really hopes that he’s not fucking this up, Eddie thinks anxiously as she continues to stare out the window but unwilling to break the silence unless he scares her off like the easily startled cat he keeps comparing her to.

He sees her take in a breath before turning to him in renewed interest, a little bit of colour returning to her cheeks, “Why did you want revenge?”

“Ah,” Eddie shrugs sheepishly but unrepentant, “He rang my friend’s bell pretty badly so I thought I’d hit him where he’d feel it too.”

A flicker of something crosses her eyes, “It was around this time last year if I remember right?”

Eddie shifts to grab his bag from behind his seat, avoiding her gaze. “Something like that. You got everything?” He runs his eyes over to see her holding her bag and tumbles out of the van. There’s no way Max can connect Eddie to Steve, but he sees no reason to allow any suspicious thoughts to percolate. “See you here after school?”

She shrugs, turning away with hunched shoulders but Eddie’s pretty sure she’ll be waiting for him later. It’s space, he thinks as he spots Jeff in a Chewbacca costume, waving and heading towards him. Jeff lets out a loud howl and Eddie waves his imaginary sword as if he’s under threat. Space and time, and maybe he can help Max resist fading away too.

 

 

Notes:

I don't know if Steve's baking will ever improve but it won't be for lack of Wayne's subtle hints on *precise measurements, Steve*

also, Eddie's reference to an eyepatch is dedicated to the lovely commenter on The Gift who hilariously thought ppl should dress up with eye patches for Halloween in consideration of Steve's blind eye 😄

Chapter 28: Mirrored Reflection

Summary:

Last chapter, Eddie reassured Max that the way Billy treated his victims was his fault, not theirs, while he was horrified to see that Steve's blips have now transformed into him fading away rather than abruptly disappearing.

This chapter, Wayne confronts Eddie after Steve fades away into another blip and Max and Eddie talk about how to survive the lasting effects left over from Billy.

Notes:

folks, all your speculations had my heart going a pitter-patter! absolutely loving it, thank you 💚💫💚

Eddie continues to run, pounding pavement most mornings despite the chill permeating the trailer, let alone the frost waiting for him out on the streets, the sun barely a hint as the shadows of approaching winter creep over Hawkins. Max occasionally accepts a ride with Eddie on particularly cold mornings and they find a pleasant peace in their quiet rides.

The night before Thanksgiving, Randy stops by the trailer looking to buy, which Eddie’s happy enough to do with Christmas coming, and Randy knows not to be obvious when he visits.

Steve’s staring out behind the curtains, cheeks drawn as he observes the taillights of Randy’s Toyota fade in the distance. The red of the lights briefly illuminates his expression and Eddie stuffs the cash into his pockets, weirdly feeling like he needs to hide the transaction from Steve even though he’s never judged him for it before.

He catches Eddie’s eye and holds out a hand. Eddie gratefully takes it, falling into Steve’s arms as he positions Eddie in front of him, curled around him like a protective shell. “You don’t usually do deals here,” he observes softly into Eddie’s loose hair. Eddie looks out into the dark trailer park, the weak dusk sun almost overtaken by the bruised purple and grey skies.

“I don’t,” he agrees just as softly, “but it’s only Randy. Don’t tell me you’re still jealous?” Eddie wishes he could see Steve’s expression as he shakes his head, arms tightening around Eddie like he’s shielding him from the dark outside.

“No, I just thought you liked to keep business away from home.”

Eddie drums his fingers over Steve’s clasped hands, thinking. “I do, except when it’s friends or friends of friends, people I can trust. Is it a problem? You know I’d never let anyone see you.”

The pause from Steve is pregnant with his unspoken thoughts and Eddie can almost hear him pick and choose his next words. His face is hidden behind Eddie’s hair in the windowpane where only Eddie’s pale face shows. “Maybe only have friends come over from now on? Not even friends of friends.”

Eddie frowns, wondering what’s going on in Steve’s head. “Steve…” he begins but Steve tightens his arms again, immediately loosening them like the movement had been involuntarily.

“I’m just worried about you. What if I’m not here? You could let anything in.”

Thinking about Steve’s old crowd and how, in a normal world where he’s friends with Steve, violent Tommy Hagan could be considered a friend of a friend, he relents. “Okay, just Randy and the guys, I’ll stay safe, promise.”

A long breath is released from the deep of Steve’s chest, but he doesn’t allow Eddie to turn in his arms just yet. Instead, pressing a gentle kiss to his temple, “I just want you safe.”

Steve carries that quiet into the next day, ensconced in the armchair with a heavy sweater, jeans, and two layers of socks. Catherine cheers next to Wayne on the couch as they watch the Cowboys and Cardinals game, a man in blue and white barrelling through a group in white and red. Eddie skips past them quickly, having been startled by Catherine booing him loudly when he had ambled across the television screen earlier, blocking a particularly important move, he was sternly told.

He drops onto Steve’s lap with his prepared plate. Smiling, Steve draws him in, pulling his legs over to sit more securely on him. Eddie digs up a large chunk of pumpkin pie with his fork, the orange filling a deep rich colour under the white cream and holds it out to Steve to eat. Steve smiles and takes the bite, eyes sliding back to the screen. Eddie’s happy as long as he can continue to feed him.

Despite his former propensity for running hot, the cold is hitting Steve hard and he’s never seen him wear so many clothes. Eddie worries that it’s a reflection of Steve’s thinning cheeks. The weight loss isn’t terribly obvious—his springtime boy still full of marvellous square footage—but he’s been picking at his food and it’s starting to show.

The game is over, food eaten or stored away, and Wayne has left to spend the night with Catherine, but Steve is standing at the window again, staring at Max’s trailer.

“Sweetheart,” Eddie says softly, trying to swallow the worry filling him, “come to bed, you need to rest.”

“Just a second,” Steve murmurs before stiffening as the lights of a familiar maroon BMW approaches the drive. He draws further behind the curtain and makes sure that Eddie is close to his side, two shadows hidden behind trailer walls.

Eddie watches as Present Steve steps out of his car, neatly pressed in blue jeans and a yellow sweater, hair carefully coiffed high and pulling out a plate covered in alfoil. “Is that…” Eddie asks, trailing off, because it’s exactly what it looks like. Present Steve is here with Thanksgiving leftovers for Max.

Steve nods, “Yeah, I hadn’t been able to pin her down in a while. She was really slippery that year so I thought I could try over the holidays. Didn’t get far.” His expression is grim as he watches his former self hop up the short front stairs and knock.

The door opens and Eddie can’t see Max from behind Steve’s tall form, but he sees him extend a hand, the food accepted and taken. In all too short of a time the door closes and Present Steve steps back, staring at the trailer and running a restless hand through his hair.

“Go back,” Steve mutters. “Go back you asshole and knock again.”

But there is no psychic connection between the man from the future glaring daggers at the one from his past and Present Steve’s shoulders slump before returning to his car, driving away with little fanfare. The sound of wheels on gravel turn distant until no trace is left of him.

Steve sighs, resting a tired forehead against the window frame, the shadows cast by the yellow lights outside deepening the smudges under his eyes. “I can never do anything right.”

“Sweetheart, no. You were trying, obviously.”

“Not hard enough,” Steve retorts in a low murmur, unwilling to look away from the site of his perceived failure. Amidst the bruised clouds hovering above them a distant boom sounds, an early storm coming. Eddie sighs, thinking that what Steve needs the most right now is a full night of sleep. He keeps insisting that he’s tired because he’s not sleeping well, not because of any nightmares, and refuses to wake Eddie.

Despite his protests however that night Steve dreams so violently that Eddie wakens, confused at the bed roiling under him and the whimpering sounds in his ear. He forces his eyes open, finding it easier to make himself wake after months of morning runs. Steve strains against the mattress, tossing over like he’s running in a zig-zag and whispering like he’s shouting.

Hastily, Eddie scrambles up to him, calling his name and holding his head between his palms, trying to wake him.

“Dustin,” Steve moans, “you have to leave…” He whimpers and Eddie feels tears building in his eyes at the pain in Steve’s face and voice. “We have to…”

“Steve,” Eddie cries, moving to shake him by the shoulders and Steve’s eyes fly open, clouded like he’s still in the abyss of his dreams, “Go,” he screams.

“Steve,” Eddie says again, desperately hoping to pierce through the fog of Steve’s nightmare and he blinks, registering Eddie above him, eyes flying over Eddie like he’s reassuring himself that he’s alive and well. “Eddie,” he whispers hoarsely, voice shredded.

Eddie blinks back his tears at the desperate relief on Steve’s face, “Yeah, sweetheart, I’m here, baby. You’re okay, Dustin’s okay.” Steve’s hands are shaking as he raises a hesitant palm against Eddie’s jaw, “And you are,” his voice is still low like he can’t raise it above a whisper, a child scared to raise their voice lest they call attention to the demon under the bed.

“I am, I’m okay too.”

“Alive.”

“Alive,” Eddie hurriedly moves Steve’s hand from his jaw to his chest, holding it against the frantic thumping of his heart. “Here, you can feel it, can’t you? I’m okay, sweetheart. I’m okay.”

“Okay,” Steve breathes out, closing his eyes in relief but holding his hand firmly against Eddie’s chest. At first, Eddie thinks that Steve has finally come to trust his woken reality because his palm is easing away.

His emerging smile freezes as the edges of Steve start fading inward, frame turning into a ghostly wisp while his disappearing hand falls through Eddie’s body. Steve’s head jerks like he hears something before his eyes fly back to him. “Eddie,” he chokes out before he vanishes.

Eddie falls against the bed where he had been propped against Steve’s body. Shaking, he brings his knees up high to hide his face away, tears soaking the cotton of his sweatpants and absorbing the sound of his cries.

He keeps fading, Eddie thinks, full of a wet, desperate grief that he can’t allow himself to accept, because if he accepts it then there is something to grieve and that can’t be true. Not yet. Not now.

He stops, forcing himself to take a steadying breath. Tries to remember the last time to find any hints of difference: had it happened for longer this time? Did Steve look more ghostly?

But he can’t tell if there were any changes, both events shaded by the horror of watching Steve’s body become immaterial, like a thing untouched and unanchored by this physical world.

But Eddie is his anchor, he thinks fiercely. Fingers curling and nails biting into his skin.

He doesn’t know how, but Eddie is his anchor, the place for Steve to find. Eddie just has to make sure that Steve can find him because Steve had promised. He had vowed to always come back to Eddie, no matter what. So, Eddie will have to trust that—he has to he thinks with a breathless giggle on the edge of madness—or he might truly walk the path of insanity.

He has to, he repeats in his head.

Again.

And again.

Until morning has risen and he rolls out of bed to run his frosted path once more. Mind set, body determined. Because Eddie must be ready to be Steve's anchor, to bring him home.

 

---

 

“Are you going to tell me what’s going on?” Wayne asks determinedly, having cornered Eddie in the kitchen after his morning run the day after. Eddie concentrates on emptying out the filter, scraping out crushed beans wrung dry of their flavour by a relentless drip. “He’ll be back, he can’t—”

“Help it,” Wayne finishes for him with a touch of exasperation. “Yes, you’ve said that before. And every time he leaves, you look like you’ve taken a round in the ring.”

Eddie forces a smile, “Hey, you should see the other guy.”

“That’s what I’d like to do. Where is he, Eddie?” Wayne demands, ignoring Eddie’s wordless offer of a top-up for the mug discarded at his elbow.

That’s the question, Eddie thinks, clenching his jaw against the burn behind his eyes. “I don’t know,” he says truthfully.

Wayne’s voice softens, “I suppose you don’t know when he’ll be back either?” Eddie shakes his head, carefully positioning the paper above the carafe as if it is very, very important.

“Is he okay at least?”

In his voice, Eddie hears Wayne’s concern and that only shakes him further. “I don’t know,” Eddie says in a small voice, hating that the words bare a truth that he can’t reconcile.

Wayne sighs, slumping against the stool, “I wish I knew how to help you two.”

Eddie takes his feelings and grabs them in a stranglehold, swallowing the poison to be absorbed into his bloodstream but safely pushed down for now. He looks up at Wayne and the man looks tired, like Steve’s absence has hit him hard too. “You’re doing it. I know what we have going on is weird. I know that Steve being a shut-in while he’s here is weird too and probably a drain on food money what with all the proper meals he makes us plus those baking experiments—"

Wayne barks out a laugh, startling him, and reaches forward to cradle his mug. He doesn’t drink from it though, only sliding a wry look at Eddie, “You know that he’s been collecting the grocery receipts from the beginning. Demanded it, even; ever since he gave me the shopping list to make you your fruitcake. Looked me dead in the eye and said he’d pay me back by the end of ‘86, weirdest thing but I believed him.”

Eddie blinks, questioning how he’d missed that. Mulling on whether Steve accepts Eddie buying groceries because he already considers them to be partners. “He never said anything,” Eddie murmurs, wondering at all the secrets his springtime boy holds.

Wayne taps a finger against the porcelain thoughtfully, “It’s not a big deal. The utilities didn’t take much of a jump and even if he hadn’t promised to pay us back, I don’t care about all that. I just want to make sure he’s safe because he’s clearly not, son.

“Eddie, every time he leaves it’s like you’re holding your breath. Like you’re waiting for news that he’s died and won’t be coming back.”

Eddie averts his gaze and draws in a shaky breath to calm how his heart had thumped at his uncle’s words. “I’m not… He’s not going to die. He’s not.” He looks up and Wayne is staring at him in alarm, and Eddie is reminded that his uncle is good at sniffing out lies. But he’s not, he tells himself fiercely, he is not lying.

Whatever he sees in Eddie’s eyes has Wayne relent. “Okay,” he says softly, “I won’t push. And when he’s back, I won’t say a thing. Just know you’re not the only one that cares, Eds. I want him to be okay too. He’s family.”

A sob rips its way out of Eddie’s throat and his uncle has rounded the counter before the tears have even fallen. Eddie presses his stupid wet eyes against Wayne’s shoulder, dampening the denim jacket under him. Telling himself he doesn’t get to cry when Steve is okay. He’s just falling through a blip, through seconds until he’ll land on their carpet once more. He has to be patient, is all.

“It’s okay,” Eddie rasps and repeats it at Wayne’s disbelieving look, “it will be, I promise. He said he’ll always come back and I believe him. He will.” Wayne sighs, eyes looking a little red too despite being dry. “Okay son, okay.”

 

---

 

And he does.

Steve returns like he promised, waiting in their bedroom that Eddie walks into after a long day of school and then Hellfire to plan their club dates for the remainder of the year. He looks up, propped up against the wall, lying on their bed. Flipping through Eddie’s Heinlein collection and face tired like he’s just woken up from a nightmare, but his smile is warm and genuine. “Hey, baby,” he says, voice gentle.

Eddie drops his bag and rushes into his already open arms, his tears have long since dried from all those weeks ago, but he takes the opportunity to squeeze Steve to him tight, to feel the warmth of his body, his natural scent, and the firm presence of skin and bone and muscle underneath him that tells him that Steve is safe here, now in the present.

He doesn’t tell him that he has to stop leaving, that’s a fool’s game. He doesn’t even say that he’s missed him, Steve knows. He just hugs him, unwilling to release him, and, curled up on his boyfriend, Eddie falls asleep. The restless weeks catching up on him and taking him under in the sweet white release of his relief.

The rain is slapping against the trailer walls when Eddie wakes, the room dark with flashing shadows from violently moving trees against the yellow lights outside. He’s lying on Steve’s chest, the steady rhythm reassuring under him, but on the wrong side of the bed.

Steve is by the window and Eddie by the door and, for some reason, this disconcerts him more than having practically passed out over his boyfriend on his return.

“You awake?” Steve’s voice rumbles underneath Eddie’s cheek, which pinkens.

“Sorry,” he says bashfully, peeking through his bangs to see Steve’s gentle expression, “I sort of just blacked out on you there, right?”

Steve sighs, stroking a hand down Eddie’s hair, “I wasn’t far behind. I caught a couple of hours, and you seemed like you needed it too.”

Eddie presses a kiss against Steve’s hand before shifting to sit cross-legged beside him. “Not to brag, but I usually have this pretty boyfriend who helps me sleep.”

“You never really say how you’re doing while I’m gone,” Steve observes, eyes shadowed in the dark of the room, but Eddie can feel them roaming over his face, looking for hints of Eddie’s well-being. And Eddie knows that as much as he is desperate for Steve to be okay in those seconds that he falls through time, Steve similarly needs Eddie to be well while he’s away.

Eddie shrugs, a flash of white strikes outside. “You know, eat, shit, school, repeat. The ouroboros of life stuff.”

“You wait,” Steve says quietly.

“I wait,” Eddie confirms, taking Steve’s hand in his and pressing a kiss against it again, like a knight paying respects to his love. A boom shakes the world outside. “I wait for my Persephone and I will always wait, each century gone a fruitful endeavour because my beloved is me and I am my beloved, no line or time separates us, because I am Hades and I will wait.”

“Sounds like a lot of work,” Steve says softly, the lightning flashes again, highlighting the concern drawing down his mouth.

“A being of divinity and beauty is always worth the price,” Eddie responds faithfully, and the words should sound cheesy or light-hearted like a joke on the tip of his tongue, but they aren’t. Nor are they heavy and full of weighted matter, ready to drown the boys under the heartache of time playing with their lives like dolls thrust into a swiftly running river.

The words shine like a copper and gold alloy, beautiful and malleable and strong.

The room rocks from thunder once more but Eddie barely notices as Steve draws him down, a firm hand at the back of his nape and demanding fingers and lips taking him in a tender unravelling, allowing the metal between them to shine, showering tenderness and ardour and devotion back onto his Hades, and the boys take divinity into themselves and make it stronger with love.

 

---

 

As he promised, Wayne barely says anything when Steve comes back once more, but he startles Steve by pulling him into his arms on his return, whispering something that Eddie can’t hear, but has Steve smiling bashfully.

“Thanks,” he says, letting his hands fall from Wayne’s back, “it’s good to be home.”

Two days later, the three of them celebrate Christmas with green pancakes and hot chocolate. Wayne sips from his new mug which has a cartoon drawing of a smiling poo under the text: Poop Buddies Forever.

Steve sits under a pile of blankets, wearing Eddie’s thick grey jumper and unwraps a t-shirt with a similarly drawn poo cartoon, but this one is vomiting a vibrant, colourful rainbow. They both look at each other before turning to Eddie, identical expressions of confusion on their faces but Eddie simply snickers, saying, “It’s a private joke.”

Steve pesters him though, until later, shivering as Eddie drapes himself over him, lending him his heat, he confesses his vow to give them both fake dog shit as Christmas presents after they had laughed at his sad, defunct gaydar following their fight over the box of condoms.

“That’s so petty,” Steve says wryly, wrapping his arms around Eddie so his wrists cross over the small of Eddie’s back.

“Jealous,” he rejoins and Steve chuckles, nosing his way in to kiss Eddie’s neck. “Proud,” he says, biting on that one particular spot that Eddie loves. They give into a languid pleasure that night, filling the dark hours with touch and reassurance.

But a week goes by and Steve disappears again. Only a few hours are left to 1985, he walks from the living room into their bedroom to collect the calendar off their mirror. They’ll dramatically cross the day off as midnight strikes.

He’s absent long enough that Wayne bellows that the new year is going to come and go before he’s done so Eddie ambles up off the floor, walking into the bedroom only to find it empty and the calendar fallen onto the floor, bent as if it had been dropped from a height.

He sighs heavily, picking it up to place it against the desk. Sliding the new calendar out of the drawer, he hangs the new one to hang on the mirror for Steve to next find. It’s a shame; Eddie had wanted to see Steve’s face at the twelve months full of pissed-off cats, the ginger one on the front looking uncannily like Max.

Small fireworks from the neighbours outside startle him out of his reverie and he walks out of the room, closing the bedroom door with a false gentleness like Steve is still inside.

Wayne looks up at him, eyebrows raised.

“He has a headache,” Eddie explains, and gestures behind him as he slides open the screen door, not bothering to change out of his slippers since he’s only going as far as the porch. “I’m just going to watch the night before hitting the hay, maybe catch some of the fireworks. I want to give him a chance to sleep before I join him.”

Wayne frowns a little, “Has he had aspirin?”

Eddie tsks playfully, swallowing around the sadness, “Have you seen that box I’ve got? He’ll be fine, just let him sleep.”

He steps out into Forrest Hills, the distant sentinels of the trailers no longer so far away, lit by festive lights and made alive by the distant murmurs of people celebrating; hope and optimism sparkling along with drinks full of bubbles, resolutions decided on and celebrating the coming renewal of life.

Clenching his teeth against the unfairness of it all, Eddie kicks the couch before falling onto it, wishing he could get a good mad up at least. But who’s he going to be angry at? Time? Yeah, fat lot of good that will do him. Might as well yell at the twinkling stars, call them fat gaseous nobodies and flip them the bird.

It sort of sounds appealing when he puts it like that, he thinks, already half convinced to rise and blow off some steam but is surprised out of the action when he sees Max step out of her house. The lights are on inside, but he can’t tell whether her mother is home.

She stomps over, hat pulled low over her ears, hands hidden away in green mittens, and flannel over a jumper. She still looks cold when she slams onto the couch on the other side, so he drags over a second blanket from over the arm and throws it at her face.

“Thanks,” she scowls, “shouldn’t you be with your lover?”

Eddie pulls his own blanket up his chest but welcomes the snap of the cold against his cheeks, feeling the need for the sharpness tonight. Maybe that’s why Max’s tone doesn’t bother him. “What about you?” he bites back, “I thought you and Lucas were a thing?”

Max’s scowl deepens and he scowls back, their eyes lock for a charged second before she breaks off to stare at the light shining through her trailer windows. “He doesn’t understand, so no. No Lucas.”

Almost too quietly for him to hear, she mutters, "No El either."

She kicks at the wood planks under their feet, saying in a louder voice, “He invited me to his place, saying his folks always throw a party for friends and family.”

Eddie quietly sighs, thinking that he doesn’t feel like he has the emotional bandwidth tonight to manage teenage drama, despite technically being one himself for another two months.

“They're all so nice,” she says abruptly, looking over near the wood’s edge. By the tree line, Eddie can see the Hamiltons feeding chunks of wood into the bonfire they’d built, people sit at the edge of it in their camping chairs, and Millie’s sons shout as they run in circles with sparklers, already anticipating the fireworks laid out a careful distance away.

“I’m guessing you don’t mean Joe Hamilton,” Eddie says, feeling a little sour that everyone’s celebrating but him.

“No, the Sinclairs. Even Erica—his sister who is actually pretty cool—is nice.” Max snorts, the porch light glinting off the threads of red and gold in her hair. “She said to me after Billy: I heard your brother was an asshole, but loss hurts either way, sorry. Then, in the same breath, she turned around and threatened to cut off Lucas’s pointer and third finger if he so much as touched her dinner plate again.”

Eddie snorts, “Sounds like our type of gal.”

She sighs, a long, loose unravelling from the depths of her chest. “She’s not angry like us.”

Eddie blinks, surprise and alarm running over him colder than the December night: no one is supposed to be able to see that in him. No one but Wayne who already knew, and Steve whom he had told. The bitter serpentine beast is his to hide, and his to protect. “What do you mean,” he asks, more sharply than he means to, trying to remind himself that this girl with old eyes is barely out of middle school.

She turns that unwavering gaze back on him, “You know what I mean. I saw you, a while back, defending one of your dorkass geeks from some asshole that was… I don’t know — trying to stuff him in a locker or something. Honestly, I don’t know, I was just passing by. But I saw it, Eddie. There was this moment when you looked like you were about to use your fists.”

Eddie’s breathing has picked up the more she unveils but unexpectedly it settles at her next words. “But you didn’t. You loomed which was more sad than scary and you pranced around with your words, but you didn’t get into it.”

“But I was tempted,” he finishes for her, seeing the shrewd light in her eyes and curious about a sharper emotion flickering in them too.

“But you were tempted,” she agrees, a displeased frown crossing her face as she contemplates something in the distance, sitting back to leave Eddie feeling winded like an oracle had pulled apart his soul and put it back together again.

“Because you know what it’s like,” he says, the phantom of it haunting them both, “because you’re angry too.”

Max flinches like he’d struck her, face settling into mulish lines, “I’m not supposed to be,” she says. “I’m supposed to be nice or I’m supposed to be cool. Or even supposed to be sad because Billy died and we live in a trailer park now.”

He studies the red rising in her cheeks. “You’re none of those, are you,” he gently observes.

“I’m fucking happy,” she hisses, fists curling in her pretty mittens and cracking broken wrinkles in the soft blanket on her lap. She turns to him, blue eyes blazing white heat as if daring him to tell her that she’s wrong, a broken being for him to judge. “I’m happy that he died. I’m happy that I don’t have to wake up asking whether today’s the day that he’s finally going to snap and hit me, or maybe just fucking run me over instead.”

It's Eddie’s turn to flinch now, unerringly reminded of his own thoughts as a boy younger than her. She continues doggedly. “He used to do it in Cali you know?”

“Hit you?” Eddie asks, cold dread washing over him.

“No,” she bites out, “he’d be supposed to pick me up to take me home; instead, I’d get in the car and he’d speed, and I don’t mean just a bit over the limit but like flying down the roads and he’d just swerve sometimes, like have the car fully careen, nearly tipping over. And he’d laugh.” She shudders, “I hate that laugh.

“There was this one time that he pointed to a tree in the distance. It was big, like an oak or something. Really visible, and he just gunned it, the engine roaring louder than my heartbeat and he drove straight as an arrow at it,” her throat bobs with the force of her swallow, ferocious anger twisting her lips into a disdainful curl, “I still wake some nights, screaming because he doesn’t swerve at the last minute this time.”

“Jesus, Red,” Eddie breathes, shocked by the unimaginable cruelty it takes to terrorise a child like that. “No wonder you don’t want him back.”

The harsh lines on her face ease somewhat, but she still looks wary, waiting for the judgment that he doesn’t have in him to pass. He wonders if it would help if she knew why he has no room to criticise her.

“My pop, he ah, was sort of similar. A rat bastard,” he clarifies, and he can see that she understands his meaning if not the whole of his story in the short nod she gives him. “He didn’t die, but there were times…”

Eddie looks out at the fire; the youngest kid has fallen and is crying. Millie swoops in to pick him up, cooing at his reddened knee.

His mother was gone by the time he’d needed her to cluck over his bruises. He thinks about nursing himself, feeling tenderly over his skin, unsure if a feeling met was something more than a bruise. Thinks that feeling tired like that is something that no child should feel.

“There were times,” he repeats slowly, “that if I could have screwed up the courage, I would have killed him in his sleep.” She remains unflinching, waiting silently for his offering to the oracle. “I didn’t and most of the time I’m glad, I don’t want something like that staining my soul. But…”

He licks his lips before exposing the ugly truth, the bruise that never heals, “Sometimes, I wish that I had. Sometimes, I think that I’m big enough now, strong enough, and I’d be able to take revenge for myself. Make him understand what it means to be small and full of fear and at my mercy.”

Max’s eyes well up and dismay fills her face as she looks at her reflection in Eddie. “It never goes away?” she whispers raggedly, barely audible over the children playing and adults celebrating.

He tugs at a chunk of his hair, hoping the sharpness of the pain will make his brain work, fearing that he’ll break this girl before she has a chance; but all he has is honesty so that’s what he offers. “For me, there’ll always be that fear, that anger. It never disappeared, no.” Her eyes shimmer in darkness, dread becoming a palpable air around her.

“But,” he pauses meaningfully, hoping that the words will penetrate, “life gets larger.”

The nervousness stutters, folding into a confused wrinkle on her brow.

Eddie sighs, leaning against the couch for support. “Don’t hate me for saying this. No kid wants to hear it. But you’re going to grow, Red.

"You’re going to find friends and new family and love and all sorts of interests. And your life will get big. The bigger you get the smaller he gets too. Until he’s this mean, little thing that hurt you—and maybe it will always hurt—but he’ll be so small and pathetic that you’ll step right over him. Kick him to the side when you’re feeling particularly mean yourself.”

Her snort of laughter is suspiciously wet and her eyes look red even as they remain dry. “So, you’re saying I’ll get fat.”

Eddie waggles his eyebrows with a ridiculous smile and when a small giggle escapes her he feels a tendril of relief unfurl. “Fat with life,” he counters, “overflowing, full and generous, and so, so much more than what he tried to make you.”

She smiles, small but genuine, dropping her chin into her palm, elbow on knee and eyes clearing a small degree. “I still feel like I should care more. Like I’m a bad sister or a bad person even for not wanting to save him. We saved—” She pauses, gaze flickering to him and he almost tells her to save it, he knows all about weighty words cut off mid-sentence by another soldier in her party. “We saved other people at Starcourt. If I’m a good sister, shouldn’t I want to save him first, push him out of the way and take his place?”

Eddie considers her warily, “That sounds like something that’s run through your head a few times.”

She sighs, looking back at the revelry; the little boy has picked himself up and has two sparklers in hand now. “I get these images at night when I’m trying to sleep. And it’s me, running in front. And it’s me… dying instead,” she confesses softly, refusing to look back at him.

“Well, I can’t say just don’t think about it.”

“Why? That sounds like exactly what I should be doing,” she frowns.

“Quick!” he cries, hands splaying dramatically, “don’t think about a pink elephant.”

Her mouth drops open in protest as she splutters before laughingly protesting, “That’s so stupid!”

“It is, isn’t it,” Eddie intones, mock solemnly.

She rolls her eyes at him, but he takes heart in that she’s still listening. Whatever he’s trying hasn’t made her walk away so far; maybe he’s not irreversibly screwing up this young girl.

“I think about D&D or good memories instead,” he says, “I get caught in my head too. Sometimes in the past in my worst moments or sometimes because I keep replaying the stupid time I tripped on air and fell into Marlene Markle’s lap.”

Max’s nose crinkles delicately and Eddie ignores the scorn inherent to any teenager’s judgement. “The point is, I think of new stories or lyrics or just that first Christmas with Wayne. And, if my mind circles back to the bad stuff, I just tell it thanks, but no thanks and think about my characters again.”

"I’m not sure if that’s so healthy,” Max says with a haughtily raised brow and Eddie snorts, he really does like this kid.

“Maybe,” he admits, “but Hellfire will never know how much my personal trauma has given them the best campaigns of their life.”

“And it works,” she asks, testing the air.

“It works,” he confirms. “It’s not perfect and it doesn’t make all the bad feelings go away, but at the very least it lets me sleep without feeling sad or scared or angry or… Christ, so much, Red.” He blows out a breath in remembered frustration before smiling at her with a gentle melancholy, “Sometimes it feels like too much.”

She nods in understanding and Eddie feels a different type of sadness. Not for himself, but for this girl who went through the same bullshit that he did, and he wishes that he were the last one.

The last kid in the whole entire world that has to bear the burdens of an abusive asshole, because it’s its own special pain to know that it keeps on happening. And it will keep on happening, and, that one day, Max will look at someone younger than her and know that they went through the same thing too.

Once you know, you start to see the same world of hurt in others.

For now though, he kicks her blanket-covered ankles amiably, “It helps to talk. Wayne helped me. And I’m around whenever you want.”

She eyes him suspiciously, “As long as you don’t smoke around me, that shit is gross.”

Eddie innocently holds his hands up in the air, pretending that she hadn’t caught him smoking a joint with Jeff in this exact same spot while Steve was last away.

“I’ve seen your uncle too, man. Smoking like a train out here.”

Eddie snorts, “Sometimes when he’s mad at me, I imagine him with a really old man beard and an old smoking pipe.”

“You couldn’t go harder than that?” She scoffs, “I thought you were just bragging about your imagination.”

Eddie scowls, irritated that she’d dare impugn his honour like this, “Excuse you, what would you come up with?”

She mulls it over, watching as Joe begins lighting the first firework far beyond the partiers and their bonfire. “What about that thing the caterpillar smokes in Alice in Wonderland?”

A piercing whistle sounds and, distracted from their light-hearted nonsense, they look up as the flash of white, yellow and pink blooms above them.

Under the bright, mesmerising display, Max looks more solid than he’s seen her be in months. Like a little of the burden on her shoulders has been chipped off, melting like snow at their feet.

He couldn’t do anything to stop Steve from blipping out once more, but maybe, tonight instead, Eddie has helped Max stop from fading away.

 

 

Notes:

as two bitingly sharp young ladies, I like to think that Max and Erica would have a healthy respect for each other, going on to form a strong sense of sisterhood as the years progress

Chapter 29: A Whisper of an Echo

Summary:

Last chapter, Max found solace that she will become bigger and larger in life than Billy would make her, but Eddie continues to worry as Steve fades away during his blips.

This chapter, the fade Steve experiences bleeds into his everyday life, and Wayne and Eddie watch as Steve becomes increasingly unwell.

Eddie keeps his breathing steady, a solid in and out, in and out, as he circles the Hawkins High track with determined strides. His legs pump in a rhythmic cadence and air billows from his open mouth, visible in the cold February air, but he moves swiftly and with a modicum of grace compared to his first stumbling run back in September.

Coach Harbour allows him to skip most physical classes these days, as long as he’s out here jogging, and it gives him some time to think about what’s going on at home. Steve had returned after New Year’s, nearly a month later with uncertain eyes as he’d walked into their bedroom. He’d snapped out of his confusion quickly once he had spotted Eddie at his desk, painting the cleric miniature based on Steve’s character, but Eddie is reminded of that look as Steve continues to lose focus.

He'd shown signs of being unwell during December and, Eddie admits to himself in frustration, he can remember Steve talking about headaches and fatigue all the way back to the start of the school year. Now, he’s picking at his food, leading to worrying hollows under his cheeks and falling asleep in the middle of the day.

Seeing the figure of the coach as he approaches the finish line, Eddie slows to a sedate pace to amble over. He’s panting, but no longer sucking air in desperately as he once had.

Coach holds up a round, black timer in his hand, the cotton cord dangling around his wrist, “I could tell you right now.” But Eddie shakes his head, “No, definitely not. Bad news always first; I have to see how the rest of the year pans out before I even think of asking if I got your B.”

Coach’s moustache twitches in what Eddie thinks may be amusement, “You know, I wasn’t sure if I believed you at the beginning of the year. All desperate with your skinny legs, but I can respect perseverance. You’re going to be a good nurse, Munson.”

Eddie pretends that the red in his cheeks is from the exertion of his exercise and waves Coach off, heading to the lockers. He doesn’t dawdle at the end of school, nodding at Gareth and Dougie from a distance to slip home, wanting to check in on Steve.

When he quietly walks through the trailer door, he can see that he’s asleep in the armchair in the corner, wearing Eddie’s grey sweater and swaddled under a thick blanket. He looks pale, Eddie thinks worriedly, pulling out leftovers from the fridge to make sandwiches.

Leaving him to rest, Eddie settles on the couch to run over his monster manual one last time while he outlines the final battle for next month’s Hellfire game. Jason’s pathological need to convert or expel the unbelievers has inspired Eddie to turn toward the Cult of Vecna as his big bad, and he’s been teasing the guys with hints and foreshadowing ever since.

He thinks that Vecna, with his desire to become a god, will have the intimidating and malevolent presence he’s looking for, including his cruel exploitation to control the dominion over mortal and ethereal realms. Eddie knows that the lich king is generally depicted as fuelling his power through necromancy, but Eddie’s going to tie him to the realm of the dead as an explanation for his power, but also as his crucial weak spot.

Persephone, as a goddess of renewal and rebirth, had inspired Eddie and he’s tinkering with making Vecna’s realm of the dead a place of creation, able to manifest the travellers’ deepest desires or greatest fears. He thinks it’d make a neat little conundrum to confuse his players’ characters and possibly spring a few traps.

Eddie smiles in anticipation as he bookmarks the page, placing it down on the coffee table and, looking up, he sees Steve has woken and is considering him with a heavy, pensive expression. Shifting on his seat, Eddie wonders how long he’s been watching him, because Steve’s eyes are unfocused until they suddenly sharpen. “Maybe I should just tell you,” he says abruptly.

Raising his eyebrow, Eddie playfully asks, “What did you do?”

Steve suddenly takes a sharp breath, hand rising to massage his temples. “Fuck,” he mutters. Eddie frowns in concern, already halfway up to find the painkillers in the green first-aid kit, “Is it a headache? Give me a sec.”

Returning, he hands over the two little powder-white tabs with a glass of water and watches Steve quaff it down, drinking like he hasn’t in days. Eddie rests the back of his hand against his forehead: it’s hot. “Have you got a fever?” he asks, about to walk back and grab the thermometer too, but Steve grabs his hand, pulling him onto his lap. He almost feels insubstantial under Eddie.

“No,” Steve says, “don’t worry about that. I need to tell you what’s going to happen, in the future.”

Shock ripples through Eddie and he leans back in surprise, saying, “What the hell are you talking about? You said to never try and change anything. World endingly bad consequences, remember?”

The yellowing light from the bulb above them flickers, throwing shadows across Steve’s face as he frowns, “Fuck the world. It’s bad, Eddie, what’s coming, and I can’t let you do it again, go through that again.” Shifting, he shakes his head like trying to clear his brain of a dense fog, “Or maybe I shouldn’t let it happen to them again.”

He looks up at Eddie uncertainly, “Saving people. It’s the right thing to do, right?”

Steve looks fragile, like he’s one hard shove away from shattering into pieces and Eddie blinks rapidly, trying to work out his next step here. Because Steve is obviously confused, he’s unwell and it’s muddling with his mind. But the one thing he’d been convinced of—absolutely adamant about from the beginning—was the need to keep the timeline the same. It was the only way that Steve knew that ‘he’ would be defeated again.

“Sweetheart,” Eddie says gently, “isn’t the alternative worse? We established that you can’t save everyone, and you don’t need to save me. You said that I survive, remember? I can go ‘through’ whatever it is as long as I come out on the other end with you beside me.”

“Right…” Steve frowns, looking down. “But I’m just letting this happen.”

Eddie grabs his chin, firmly pulling him up to meet his gaze, “You’re not just letting anything happen. You’re making a choice: a choice to save your family and to make sure they come out on the other side, safe and well. You may not have said it out loud, baby, but I know you’re doing this so Dustin, Robin, and the others survive. You said it about the ouroboros ages ago: there’s always a choice. It’s just sometimes it’s the shittiest one imaginable.”

“What if I’m not there on the other end?” Steve whispers, face pale and sweat beading at his brow. “I’m fading, Eddie. Not just when I blip out; I can feel it every day. Like I’m not supposed to be here, like I’m an echo that’s a whisper away from silence.”

Eddie swallows around the fear, trying to keep calm for Steve’s sake, “You just have to get past the point that you fall back, sweetheart. Then you’ll be in your own timeline, and you won’t blip in and out anymore. No more fading, either. You just have to hang in there, okay?”

The light flickers again and Steve blinks up at it, gazing at it for too long to be a normal pause. “Steve,” Eddie calls softly, shaking his shoulder in a gentle movement. He looks down, meeting Eddie’s eyes with a confused look, “Sorry, what were we talking about?”

Eddie curls his other hand, biting nails into the flesh of his palm until the pain helps reorientate his thoughts, “Nothing much of anything. You were trying to convince me that Hot Lips is the MVP of M.A.S.H.”

Steve chuckles, resting his head on Eddie’s shoulder like he’s tired, “Hawkeye is hot and cool and all, but that woman is a machine. It’s playing soon; I dare you to watch it and not see she should be in charge of the unit.”

Eddie forces a smile, reaching for the remote and switching the television on. He slides his arm around him as Steve starts humming the theme song, the upbeat melody belying the dark lyrics that are no longer sung. Then Frank Burns runs into an opening door and Steve snorts. Eddie simply stays in his seat, holding onto Steve for as long as he can.

 

---

 

He’s finishing the last stitches on the denim vest a week later when Steve brings it up again. Steve had accidentally torn a hole in his well-worn Dio shirt, and he’d passed it to Eddie with a smile, suggesting that he use the decal for the back. Eddie had looked down at the red demon broken free of its silver manacles and thought it was a great idea, a forever reminder of lying in bed and finding the courage to tell Steve that he is gay.

“I can still feel it,” Steve says softly, under his heavy blanket in the armchair in the corner, and Eddie knows exactly what he’s referring to this time.

“What does it feel like then?” Eddie asks carefully, concentrating on tying the cotton against the final edge. The room is lit by pale yellow light above them and the window outside shows the cold dark of winter, stars obscured by the streetlights of Forrest Hills.

“Like I’m thinning, like the fade has stuck with me,” Steve blankly looks at the bright television and Eddie nibbles on his lip as he asks, “Like my hand could go through you again?”

Steve sighs, looking down at his own lax hands. In one he has Wayne’s whittling knife and in the other a blue jay carved out of oak, just large enough to sit in his palm with a pronounced crest and collared neck and tail. “Like I don’t belong here,” he says, face tired.

Eddie’s head whips up, “Here, as in time or place?”

Steve's eyes are gentle, and they cause Eddie’s to sting, “Both. Like I shouldn’t be here now or with you in the trailer and all my energy is going into clinging on.”

“You need to sleep and eat more,” Eddie says, running his gaze over Steve’s thinning face.

He rustles under the warm blanket piled up to his chest, “I don’t think that’s it, baby. You know what you were studying for your bio test the other day?”

“About infections and the immune response?”

Steve nods wearily, letting his head drop and loll against the back of the chair, “I feel like I’m the germ and the world is trying to burn me out of its system.” Eddie’s fingers spasm and he curses as he looks down at the bright pinprick of blood he’d accidentally drawn.

“So, you just need to be in your time again,” Eddie says determinedly. It’s the only solution he’s been able to produce; because they have no control over the blips and, at this point, it’s a case of wait-and-see. But Eddie has to believe that once they pass the point that Present Steve leaves to go back to the past, then time will sort itself out.

He has no other alternative to turn to.

“You just need to hang on until we get you back to after the point you go missing. This is all probably just a reaction because your other self is in this timeline as well. So, there are two of you right now and maybe time doesn’t like that. But once we get you past that point, there will only be you. You’ll be safe. We defeat the bad guy and—you and me, gorgeous—we’ll be golden.”

Steve had watched Eddie through his impassioned defence with a small smile, “Maybe I do just need to start eating better again.”

“Exactly,” Eddie rolls up off the floor, leaving his project behind. “I’m making dinner.”

“Okay, there’s leftover meatloaf for sandwiches if you want,” Steve says.

“No, I’m going to cook some vegetables or something.” Eddie ignores Steve’s soft laugh and stares into the fridge, he can handle boiling potatoes and broccoli, and they’ll be more nutritious for Steve than bread slapped over last night’s dinner.

The sound of the front clatters open and Wayne walks through the door, toeing off his boots. Eddie waves a distracted hand as he glares at the water in the pot, urging it to boil. He never understands why it always takes so long to start.

He hears a murmur in the living area before Wayne walks into the kitchen, grabbing a soda from the fridge. He stands next to Eddie as he continues staring down at the still water, asking, “He doing okay?” Behind the can raised to his face, Wayne’s eyes are deeply concerned. They watch as Steve starts drifting off, the sounds of Alice consoling Marcia about her crush play from the television.

Eddie shakes his head jerkily, “No, I don’t think so.”

“He needs to get himself to the hospital,” Wayne says quietly.

“He won’t,” Eddie sighs.

“If it’s about the money…” Wayne starts.

“No,” Eddie interjects, watching one lonely bubble rise. He doesn’t know how to explain to his uncle that time travel is likely out of the purview of the medical profession, even if he could convince Steve that seeing a doctor won’t change the timeline.

Steve jerks awake and they watch in increasing worry as he abruptly stands, throwing the blanket off and pacing confusedly to the middle of the trailer. They both rush over to him, but Steve recoils from Eddie’s outstretched hands. Canned laughter sounds out uncannily below them.

“Munson?” Steve asks, eyes flitting between him and Wayne. He startles as an advert for Windex suddenly blares but looks back up at them quickly, “What the hell? Did I come here to buy—” He cuts himself off, sliding a quick look at Wayne as he stops himself from mentioning any drug deals.

Wayne exchanges a glance with Eddie. “What do you remember last, son?” He asks, voice grave and in a steadier manner than Eddie can manage right now, nervousness jittering through his chest.

The pulse in Steve’s neck is visible, pulsing hard against his thin skin and sweat has started to bead above his lip, “I was just closing my shift. Robin is coming over. I’m in my car— I mean, I was in my car…”

He steps backwards, “I’m sorry, I don’t know why I’m here, but I’ll get out of your hair.”

Eddie’s mind whirls as Steve turns and reaches for the handle on the door because something is clearly wrong and Steve is not thinking straight, but if he were in his normal faculties then he’d want Eddie to stop him from leaving. Eddie doesn’t know how to do that without physically restraining him, and that’s the last thing he wants to do.

Steve is turning the knob when Eddie calls out quickly, “Wait! You— You said that Jonathon was coming down from California.” Wayne eyes him curiously but Eddie continues, “Yeah, and that you wanted to get him a gesture of goodwill. A party favour, you know, for a get-together between some of you.”

Steve blinks, running his hand through his hair, “Oh, that would make sense, I suppose. Did we…” He eyes Wayne again.

“No,” Eddie says, gesturing behind him, “Uh, it’s in my room, come on.” Eddie lays his hand gently on Steve’s arm and Steve nods, a perplexed sort of compliance overtaking him. He follows Eddie with one step and then two before faltering. “Eddie? Baby, what’s going on?”

Steve looks at Eddie in bewilderment as he begins to fade, outside in. He turns at Wayne’s confused shout before blipping out once more.

Eddie stares bleakly at where Steve had been standing, not allowing the panic thrumming underneath to build. He can’t allow it. He has to believe that this is just another blip. Steve’s fading now, yes, but he’s still blipping back; this is just one more time and he’ll see Steve soon.

He grits his teeth, turning without thinking too deeply about anything other than he should probably turn the stove off when he catches the astonished look on his uncle’s face.

“Shit,” Eddie says.

 

---

 

The television has long been switched off and the water in the pot remains cold. Wayne sits on the couch as Eddie stands across the room, having just explained Steve’s first and subsequent visits.

“What do you mean, exactly, when you say that Steve is a time traveller,” Wayne says, speaking carefully like every word is precious.

“Just what I said. He’s from some event later this year, and he fell back in time to 1984 in our trailer. He always does and will again, he lands on the carpet right over there,” Eddie points to the floor where Steve’s nose usually meets the ground.

Wayne follows his fingers before pressing his own forcefully against his temple, looking like he doesn’t know where to start. Eddie sympathises, he’s at least had time to acclimatise to the impossible. Wayne glances at the boots by the door, the ones that Steve rarely wears, “It’s why he never left the trailer.”

Eddie hums a sound of agreement and, at his following explanation, Wayne shifts, pulling out a slim stick from his packet of Winstons and swiftly lighting it.

“He was worried about changing the timeline. There’s a catastrophic event in the future that they’ve avoided and he was concerned that if he interfered in any way then he’d change the outcome and they’d lose,” Eddie explains.

Wayne ashes the cigarette as he rests his Zippo on the table with a doubting click, “Catastrophic?”

Eddie shrugs, he’s believed in Steve’s future for so long, even been at the fringes of some of his adventures, that it’s hard to muster up any proper scepticism. Still, he tries for his uncle. “I get you, I do. But he couldn’t tell me or…”

“That might change the future,” Wayne concludes, blowing out a plume of smoke along with his disbelief. “That’s why you were so adamant that he didn’t have any choice about when he’d come or go.”

Eddie collapses onto the other side of the couch, picking up a pillow and hugging it in his lap, wishing it was heavier. A weight pressing him down, providing comfort. Wishing that it was Steve. He sighs instead, “Literally has no control over it. He used to just pop in and out of existence like blip,” he snaps his fingers in demonstration, “but the last couple of times he faded like he did tonight.”

“Is that bad?” Wayne asks, frowning and shifting forward like he’s about to go find Steve in the middle of a blip and drag him back, “that sounds bad.”

Eddie laughs into the pillow, feeling an edge of hysteria rising that he swallows against, “That, my dear Uncle Wayne, is the million-dollar question.”

“He’s not been well,” Wayne observes, leaning back with eyes turned inward, reflecting on Steve’s declining health over the past weeks.

“No,” Eddie agrees quietly, and Wayne looks at him thoughtfully before saying, “Why here? Why the trailer?”

“I don’t know,” Eddie admits, “He said it was too closely tied to the big thing that’s going to happen.” He pauses, mulling over all the hints that Eddie had picked up over the months, and the half-suspicions that had formed from them.

He decides that Wayne should be prepared as much as possible even while knowing that he has nothing certain to offer. “But I think it’s something really bad. You know how he’s been slipping in and out, mentally?” Wayne nods with a serious mien, and Eddie remembers that his grandmother had suffered from dementia. Eddie had been young, but he remembers her frail hands, bird-bone fragile as he’d clasped them by her bedside, her gaze vacantly staring out the window.

“I think it almost caused him to break his own rules the other day. He was trying to tell me, and I could see it. I could see that whatever’s going to happen here is worse than a little dealing or some other petty crime.”

“What’d he say?”

Eddie shakes his head, putting the pillow aside with a sigh, “I stopped him from telling me. He made the decision back when he was thinking clearly that avoidance was the best strategy.”

“You didn’t want him betraying that,” Wayne guesses.

“He made the decision for a reason, Wayne. You know Steve, he wouldn’t do it lightly.”

“No,” Wayne agrees grimly, “he has a streak of responsibility a mile wide and he’d turn the world upside down if he knew you were in harm's way.”

He stubs out his cigarette, the last whisps of smoke curl in the air above it. “Do you have an idea of when it might happen this year, at least?”

“I don’t,” Eddie slowly admits, “But I have a bad feeling that it’s soon.”

 

 

Notes:

I drew on my experience with looking after my nana during her dementia for a lot of Steve's scenes as he continues to fade away; it still makes me sad, but I do like the idea that she continues to live through me in different ways (you definitely would have seen her and her wooden spoon in The Gift lol)

Chapter 30: Vecna Strikes

Summary:

Last chapter, Steve became increasingly physically weak and mentally confused while Wayne witnessed Steve blip away for the first time.

This chapter, Eddie is on the run after witnessing Chrissy's gruesome death and Present Steve looks after Eddie.

Notes:

yes, finally, it's Season 4 😘

Spring break 1986

Panic shoots through Eddie in a sudden, intense jolt, making his heart pound and vision blur as he scrambles across the wooden floors of Reefer Rick’s boathouse. He desperately grabs a discarded and broken beer bottle, keeping his head below the windows that expose the dark night outside, and yanks a tarp over his body, shivering in the bowls of the outboard boat moored to the dock.

Whoever was pounding at Rick’s neighbouring house noisily enters the boathouse, arguing; but Eddie doesn’t know about what because his pulse is thundering so loudly in his skull that he can’t hear anything but the indistinct sound of querulous voices. Just because he can’t make them out doesn’t mean the reverse is true and he stuffs a hard fist against his mouth, trying to block his frantic breaths from being heard.

He can’t be found, he can’t. Not after what he saw. He hears banging and understands they’re looking for something, looking for him, and it’s his second worst nightmare. The first now being found broken and hollow on his trailer floor, just like Chrissy Cunningham.

Eyeing the amber bottle, Eddie’s mind erupts in a frenzy of trying to plan his escape but all he can think as he’s roughly jolted from above the tarp is defend defend defend. He explodes from his hiding spot, vision blind but for the hulking male body looming over him in the thick shadows and he seizes the man by the collar, hurling him against the wall with the broken glass pressed against his throat. He’ll keep the rest of the intruders away and then figure out how to run from there.

Dustin’s voice—of all people—penetrates the terrified fog, with a piercing Eddie Eddie Eddie, and his blinded gaze shifts from the exposed neck pinned between him and the wall to Steve’s shocked and frightened face above it.

Eddie gasps. The tight clench he’d had around the neck of the bottle loosens in his surprise, causing it to fall to the floor with a crash. The sound of the fragile explosion at their feet wrenches Eddie out of his stupor. He backs up quickly, palms in the air trying to show his harmlessness and remorse, “Sorry. Shit. Sorry, I won’t hurt you. Sorry.”

He keeps backing away, almost tripping over his clumsy feet but Steve launches forward to clasp him by the biceps, holding onto him in a steadying grip.

Eddie’s terrified gaze flies to Steve’s because surely this is a step too far for this present version. Steve must have heard about Chrissy. It’s been nearly a full day since Eddie had fled and Hawkins is small: he must have. And now they’re here to take him in because it looks like the town freak murdered a poor innocent girl in his trailer.

Steve’s mouth is moving even though Eddie is deaf to it under the thunder of his panic, but he doesn’t do more than hold his arms and Eddie eventually hears him repeating, in a soothing tone, “Eddie, it’s okay. You’re okay. We’re here to help.”

Dumbfounded, he takes in Steve’s concerned expression and realises that he’s here to help him. The terror breaks into relief, Eddie sobs at the power of it ripping through his chest. Desperate for reassurance, he bolts forward towards Steve, throwing his arms around him and hiding into his chest with tears burning in his eyes. Without hesitation, Steve returns the embrace, enfolding Eddie firmly against him and murmuring in his ear that it’s going to be okay, Eddie. It will.

The air shifts around them and Eddie suddenly remembers that they’re not alone and nor is this his Steve, no matter how familiar the weight against his body. Eddie tries to style it out, chuckling awkwardly and stepping back to see Max, Dustin and Robin staring at him with wide eyes behind the yellow beams of their flashlights.

“Sorry,” he repeats, feeling like the word has become branded on his tongue, “it’s been a hell of a day, must have lost it for a second there.”

Steve frowns and opens his mouth but Dustin steps forward cautiously like he’s afraid Eddie’s still liable to bolt. “Eddie, these are my friends, we just want to help you.” He gestures at a cautious Robin and a Max who increasingly side-eyes him as he continues talking, “This is Robin, she’s from band, and this is Max, she—”

“Oh my god, you idiot,” Max pushes him aside and strides over to Eddie, giving his sleeve a tug as if in replacement of a hug. “He’s my neighbour, and my friend too. We drive into school together, jerkwad.” She looks up at him, blue eyes concerned, “Are you okay?”

Eddie ignores Dustin’s gaping mouth, warmed by Max claiming him. The relief of the unexpected gesture has his legs weakening and he slides down the wall at his back, wearily looking up at her he says, “I’ve been better, Red. That’s for sure.”

She folds her legs to sit next to him criss-cross style and Steve and Dustin follow. Robin stays standing somewhat behind Steve, but he notes that she still makes sure to stay in his peripheral vision. He wonders whether she knows to do it for Steve’s ease-of-mind or, after the Russians, it’s simply instinctual to keep close to each other.

“What happened?” Max asks, taking the lead.

Eddie would really like to close his eyes against the question, shut out the spinning world for a minute and allow himself to reorientate, but every time he does all he can see are Chrissy’s limbs snapping like fragile twigs between cruel, invisible hands.

Instead, he describes it to them, hoping to exorcise the image by sharing it: the small frame of her body spread unsupported above the floor like Jesus on the cross, her jaw dislocating so violently she’d looked inhuman, the unnatural white of Chrissy’s eyes violently pulling in like liquid through a straw.

Robin looks like she’s about to vomit as she lays a steadying hand on Steve’s shoulder. He reaches up, squeezing it in support.

“I know this will sound weird, but we’ve been through something similar before,” she says, before waving her other hand distractedly in the air, “I mean, not the flesh-sucking-in thing. Though my experience was sort of human-fleshed-based and these guys had more of a smoke situation happening? It’s hard to describe when I only have dingus’s descriptions, and he’s not the most imaginative when it comes to—”

“Robs,” Steve stops her with another squeeze to the hand, shooting her a look of caution.

“Right,” she shakes her head and refocuses on Eddie, “but the bottom line is, you’re not alone.” Eddie thinks this is the most that Robin has ever spoken to him at once and wonders whether encountering a shared horror has allowed her to get past the caution she’d first treated him with.

“She’s right,” Dustin says, earnestly leaning over the backpack under his folded arms. “It sounds crazy, but there’s this world hidden beneath Hawkins. We call it the Upside Down.”

Eddie nods at the familiar term, remembering Dustin referring to it during Steve’s first visit. He catches Max eyeing him and he hopes it looks like a general expression of agreement.

Dustin continues, “And sometimes that world bleeds into ours.”

“Like demons and shit?” Eddie asks, refraining, with effort, from mentioning the word demogorgon and already wondering what Russians and a burning mall have to do with an alternate underworld.

“Just like demons,” Dustin intones, grave and mature in a way that Eddie rarely sees in him, “There are monsters that have come over from there before: they’re bad, Eddie. Really bad.”

“People are killed every time they come out,” Steve adds quietly. The room is silent for a moment in the wake of his simple sentence as if each one of them is revisiting the memories of those lost.

Max grimly nods and Eddie remembers that one of those people was Billy, “Which is why we need to know if they’re back. If what you saw was the Upside Down. Other than Chrissy, did you see anything? If not a creature, then maybe dark particles?”

“It would almost look like swirling dust,” Dustin explains at Eddie’s confused look, “and flickering lights are a sign of something being there on the other side too.”

Eddie tries to think, but the horror of the moment had been all-consuming. At first, he’d been focused on trying to wake Chrissy out of her fugue state and then—once she’d started to break—the terror of being next had filled him, coursing through his body like the worse adrenalin high and he’d ran. Bolted into the van and drove as far as he could until he’d had to pull over. Throwing up the Mountain Dew from that night’s Hellfire campaign; the repulsive sweetness mixing with bitter bile onto the side of the road.

Shame is all that fills him now, he’d left her there. Dead and broken. Alone.

“I don’t know,” he confesses, swallowing down the bile that had never really left the back of his throat, “it was like she was in a trance or something. Like she was cast under a spell with the floating and her eyes turning white. That wasn’t natural, she wasn’t just rolling the irises back. It was like they were gone.”

He looks down at his hands, terribly pale as they tremble, and he realises that his entire body is subtly shaking. A zipping sound interrupts the silence before Steve lays his jacket over Eddie’s lap and hands, covering him as much as possible. “Here,” Steve says, looking at Eddie with a gentle smile, “you’re probably still in shock, you need to stay warm.”

Fingering the blue material, Eddie can feel Steve’s heat permeating through the jacket. “Thanks,” he says, throat thick. These people keep showing him kindness and he knows them, yeah. He and Red have even become friends and, sure, he’s Dustin’s DM; yet under the fragility that’s shaken his frame over the past twenty-four hours it may be their unexpected kindness that is his undoing tonight.

Dustin clears his throat, looking between the two of them briefly before focusing back on the main issue. “Like a curse then, like Vecna’s curse from the campaign,” he primly explains, shaking his backpack; Eddie doesn’t hear anything but the muffled thud of books smacking together.

“And who’s Vecna?” Robin asks, propping her shoulder against a nearby wall with a perplexed but resigned expression like she already knows that this is going to be a D&D explanation. She and Steve exchange glances, the barest hint of an eye roll in the movement.

“A heinous being,” Eddie rasps, ignoring their disbelief because the naming might just be appropriate. “He can paralyse with a touch and take over other characters by controlling their actions. He turns people mad and makes the fabric of the world bend with his illusions.” Eddie eyes Dustin hopefully, “You think what I saw was in my imagination?”

“No,” Max interrupts bluntly, puncturing Eddie with the word like a dagger to the lungs. “I could hear the cops speaking and I didn’t get all the details, but what you described about Chrissy tracks with what they were saying. They looked green around the gills too. I don’t think it was in your head.”

Conspicuously—likely only to Eddie, knowing she's thinking of his shut-in partner—she barely looks around the room before meeting Eddie’s eye, “It was just them and Wayne, no one else was around.”

“But you saw the electricity flickering, Max,” Dustin interrupts, “so it’s likely something was there. Like a dark wizard, like a Vecna.”

Max squints at him like she wants to call him a nerd, but she reluctantly shrugs, “It could have been, yeah.”

Eddie scrubs a tired hand down his face, trying to follow along while simultaneously attempting to keep his stomach from revolting again. The unfamiliarity of his surroundings in the creaking of the wood under them and the damp algae smell infecting the place all meld into the distant sensation that none of this is real. Then the creaking resembles cracking for a moment and he quickly swallows. All of this is too real.

Steve grunts at Max’s reluctantly agreement, “Shit.” His curse has Eddie looking up in time to see Steve share a commiserating look with Robin. He explains to Eddie, “We usually have this girl with superpowers—”

“Not that she has them anymore,” Robin interrupts with a grimace.

“—but it would be good to have her here anyway, but she moved to California,” Steve completes seamlessly and Eddie almost smiles, seeing the wonder twins in action. “We need more information.” He looks at Max, “Can you get in touch? Maybe Will felt something even if El is disconnected from the Upside Down now.”

Max nods and a plan is formed. They need more information and apparently there’s more to this fellowship than these four adventurers. In the meantime, Eddie is to stay hidden in the boathouse, the remote location ideal to conceal him for now. Yet nervousness jitters through him as they exit the boathouse one-by-one, each step biting away at the brittle feeling of safety their presence had brought.

“Keep the jacket,” Steve says at the door before his face brightens as an idea occurs to him, “actually, wait a sec too.” He jogs away to the bimmer, Robin waiting with Eddie at the entrance. Dustin and Max quietly argue by the front car door, two bickering shadows in the midnight hour.

“We’ll sort this out, Eddie,” Robin says kindly, watching Steve rustle through the trunk; the trees loom large over him to create shifting shadows over the car and its passengers. “It feels overwhelming right now, but these guys have been through this too many times to count, and you’ll get through it too.”

He drags his eyes away from watching the purse of Steve’s lips to grimace good-naturedly at her, surprised that he can dredge up any humour, “So you’re saying welcome to the club?”

She barks out a laugh, punching him in the arm with a surprising amount of strength, “That’s the spirit.” Her face drops with an automatic wince, “Oh my god, I sound like Steve. Don’t tell him.” She whips her head over to see him approaching and scuttles towards the car, pushing Dustin and Max aside to call shotgun privileges before swinging into the front. They look at each other and shrug, settling into the back with little fanfare.

“Don’t tell him what?” Steve asks suspiciously as he approaches, piling a folded blanket into Eddie’s arms. It’s thin and has a stain on one corner, but it’s better than the nothing that he was using before. He’s stopped shivering after the unexpected support he’d found tonight, but Eddie suspects that any warmth lingering will die as soon as the taillights fade from sight.

He eyes the baseball bat Steve’s holding loosely by his side, “Nothing for your delicate ears, handsome. What’s that?”

Steve pushes it into Eddie’s reluctant hand, “I wish I could take you back to mine. It’s empty but for me most of the time, so it’d be a good hiding place. But this is the one week my parents are back and they’ll sniff you out even if you’re in my room.”

Eddie pretends to smell under his pits, “Ah, eau de cowardice. Yeah, that would stink up the Harrington home.” He means it as a joke, mostly. He’d turned tail so fast at the trailer he’s surprised that he’s still not spinning, but he hadn’t meant it as a dig at Steve.

Steve squints like he’s trying to work it out but lets it go, surprising Eddie by sharing, “You know, the first time I encountered the Upside Down I ran too. Like fully booked it, left behind Nancy and Jonathon Byers in the face of a screaming monster to try and drive away.”

Eddie glances down at the bat in his hand, unable to look Steve in the eye, “Yeah, but I bet you ran back into the fray.” Steve’s a hero, not a coward like Eddie; he’s always known this, but Eddie never had the chance for it to be proven so brutally before.

“Eddie,” Steve grabs Eddie's hand as it fiddles with the wooden handle, “Yeah, I did, but it was because Nancy and Jonathon were still alive. I listened to what you said earlier and you didn’t leave Chrissy behind to die. She was already gone. You couldn’t have helped her.”

Eddie jerks his head in what he hopes passes as a nod. He had wanted to help her, he knows that much at least. Instead, he’d felt helpless and exposed like a child under descending fists. But Steve is right, Eddie acknowledges silently: he hadn’t left until she was gone. It’s a cold comfort, but somehow it allows some of the frost around him to seep away nonetheless.

“And this,” Steve says lightly, jostling the bat around their clasped fingers, “is some PG-rated protection.”

“Did you mean that to sound like it did?” Eddie snickers despite himself and he can’t be sure because there’s little light but for the moon and the faint yellow inside the car in the background, but he thinks Steve’s cheeks flush just a little.

“What I mean,” he grounds out, “is that we don’t know what assholes could come across you and you need something in defence. This is the less lethal option. It has fewer nails studded in it than the other one in my trunk.”

Eddie lets go of Steve’s hand quickly and steps back. The reminder that he’d known about Steve’s nail bat months ago sparks through him with the sudden feeling that he’s been caught flirting with another man. Steve’s brow quickly furrows, “I’ve only ever used it on demogorgons. Oh, and demo-dogs too, but never on people. You don’t have to be worried that I’m some sort of psycho.”

Eddie laughs ruefully, burying the odd moment although he remains standing in place. “Never thought you were. No, I was just reminded of something. And, honestly, I think I’m worn clean through, man. Not an ounce of energy left.”

Steve’s face softens, “Get some rest, we’ll be back tomorrow with more information and something to eat. You’re not alone anymore.”

And with those devastating words, that felt like they’d speared Eddie clean through the heart, leaving him silently gasping at the power of them, Steve unsuspectingly smiles one last time before leaving. They all wave from inside the car and Eddie hurriedly closes the door after them, finding a corner and already feeling alone regardless of Steve’s kind promise.

Despite his reservations about using it, Eddie curls around the bat and it provides a measure of comfort that allows him to restlessly sleep between fits and starts, unable to truly relax with the creaking wood over Lover’s Lake sounding like approaching footsteps.

It’s at the tail end of one dream—Hawkin’s PD busting down the boathouse door, guns pointed and screaming at him—that he wakes with heart pounding and frozen still, unsure of whether the fear is a carryover from the nightmare or whether he’d unconsciously registered someone approaching. He cautiously peers out the window to the sunny day outside, relieved when he sees the drive is empty only to jump, shocked halfway to the grave, as Dustin bangs open the door.

“Hi, Eddie!” His grin is still gummy despite growing in his teeth, braces pulled taut against the beaming smile. A familiar hardback book is under his arm and Max and Robin sedately follow, each carrying a bulging shopping bag. Steve strides in a second later, one hand full of a Tupperware dish and the other already slapping Dustin over the head.

“Don’t scare him, shithead,” he scowls. His gaze drops to Eddie’s chest and Eddie blushes, pushing Steve’s jacket away from where it had rested over the blanket and under his chin, the scent under the cologne reassuringly like his Steve.

“You came back,” Eddie says stupidly.

Robin smiles, “Like I said, you’re one of us now.” But it fades as they enter, quietly unpacking the groceries before handing him a box of Honeycombs and a Yoohoo.

Eddie has just carefully put aside the chocolate drink when Steve plucks the cereal box out of his hand and replaces it with the shallow rectangular container he had carried through the door.

“Jesus, you need more than sugar. Here, I doubt you’ve eaten properly since the other night, eat some real food.”

Eddie peels back the lid and can’t contain the smile spreading across his face as he spots Steve’s lasagna under it. He looks up as Max passes him a fork while sitting next to him but misses Steve’s expression as he quickly turns away. Robin’s smirk is lightning quick though before she sobers, swiping the abandoned Yoohoo to pop it open and drink from it, “So, good news or bad news first?”

Is she nuts? “Bad news first, always.”

Dustin folds down heavily onto the floor in front of him with a thump. “We tapped into Hawkins PD with my Cerebro and they’re definitely looking for you. Also… they’re, uh, pretty convinced you killed Chrissy.”

Dread rises from the very tips of his toes, building to a tar pit that sits heavily in his chest. Eddie has very little room for surprise: this is what he’d been expecting all along. Even if he weren’t drug-dealing trailer trash, Chrissy had been literally killed three feet away from him with no one else in view. It’s going to be a miracle if the cops don’t shoot him on sight.

“And the good news?” Eddie asks grimly.

“Your name hasn’t gone public yet,” Max says trying for reassuring despite her next words, “but if we found you then it’s only a matter of time before others do.”

Robin cheerlessly contemplates the bottom of her bottle, “And once that gets out, everyone and their shallow-minded mother is going to be gunning for you.”

He catches her eye, “Hunt the freak, right?”

“Exactly.”

“Okay,” Steve interrupts, chopping his hand onto his palm, “but we’re not going to let it get to that point. We find this Vecna, we kill him and prove your innocence.”

Eddie eyes him sceptically but Dustin interrupts earnestly, “We’ve got this, Eddie. We just need to figure out a few more pieces of the puzzle, but we will. We always do and we will again.”

Dustin unveils his large hardback book; on it a red dragon flies above a white unicorn and an angry centaur, yellow text is boldly printed above them. It’s the D&D monster manual. Dustin flips to a carefully bookmarked section titled VECNA, “Okay, so the best place to start is with knowing the enemy.”

Max groans, falling back on her hands and looking over at him with disdain, but Robin hushes her, “We don’t know what could be useful. And you guys have used this as a guide before because it’s at least a little accurate, right?” Max reluctantly nods and leans forward to join the other two in a huddle around the open pages.

Dustin pokes his tongue out at her in retaliation and Eddie sighs, his fate is in the hands of high school freshmen and, with all due respect, a band geek. He creakily gets to his feet, ignored by the other three and ambles over to lean against the wooden wall by the window. Making sure to keep hidden behind the curtain, he digs out a forkful of lasagna as he contemplates the slowly lapping water against the distant shore. He wonders where Wayne is right now.

“Good?” Steve asks, joining him on the opposite side of the window, leaning against the treated lumber with arms casually crossed against his chest. He makes sure to keep out of sight too.

“Good,” Eddie confirms with a pleased hum, it’s even still a little warm.

Steve pinkens and the flush of his skin draws Eddie’s gaze down to the small mark still red against his neck. Blanching at the realisation that he’d cut Steve with the broken bottle last night, Eddie clears his throat and gestures towards it with a jerk of his chin. “Sorry again about the, you know.” He can’t say it but meaning sorry I tried to hurt you, I would never hurt you.

Steve shrugs nonchalantly, redirecting his gaze to the scenic view outside, the sun sparkles silver against the gentle ripples. “It’s okay. I know we’ve been friendly, but we haven’t exactly been friends either. I get why you’d doubt me.”

“No, it wasn’t that. You literally could have been Ozzy Osbourne himself reborn to save me and I would’ve attacked. I was so freaked out I could barely see beyond my nose, let alone work out who you were before I jumped you.”

“Ozzy Osbourne?”

Eddie grins, thinking of a similar conversation echoed in his van, “Yeah, he’s a singer. Pretty metal too, he bit a bat onstage once; it was dead already, but it was a badass move.”

Steve scoffs, kicking out a foot to playfully smack it against Eddie’s ankle, “I think I sound a lot safer than him.” Eddie grins, kicking back lightly in retaliation, “We could be though? If you like. Friends, that is. I feel like this a one-for-all all-for-one situation I’ve gotten myself into.”

“You’re not wrong,” Steve ruefully shakes his head, looking over at the three on the floor. Max has wrestled the book out of Dustin’s hands who is standing with his hands on his hips. Robin pulls him down onto the floor and Dustin squawks in protest but quickly settles. “I got mixed up in this mess back in ’83 and, since then, they’ve sort of adopted me into the fold. It’s gotten me a few knocks to the head, but I can’t say that I regret it.”

Eddie’s gaze reflexively flickers to the thin scar above Steve’s left eyebrow as he swallows another delicious mouthful. “Ah, the stalwart warrior then. Defending the tribe.”

Rolling his eyes, Steve says, “Maybe not that intense, but sure.”

Eddie wiggles his fork in an undulating motion across the half-eaten expanse of the lasagna top, making a small barking sound. “Not a warrior,” he jokes, “maybe the guardian dog instead? Strong instinct to protect the flock, ready to take on any predator no matter the size of the enemy.”

Steve rolls his eyes again, looking out to the spring-green trees abutting the shore, but he looks uncomfortable with Eddie’s assessment. Eddie purses his lips, kicking Steve’s ankle again, “I’ve always considered myself as more of the shepherd, personally. Make sure the flock stays together, banding behind the crook of my mighty metal protection.”

At the reminder, Steve’s eyes trail over Eddie’s long hair down to his leather jacket and denim vest full of patches and rude badges. He slowly smirks as he raises his gaze daringly to Eddie’s, “Would that make you my master?”

Eddie almost chokes on the irony, thinking of the weight of Steve’s body holding him down, wrists forbidden to move from above his head with sharp teeth and a suckling mouth on his skin.

It fuels the flirtish curl to his lips as he leans in slightly while Steve watches him behind weighted lids, “Why? You still want to call me daddy?”

Steve’s eyes darken and drop further to Eddie’s lips. “Not exactly,” he murmurs.

“Hey dinguses, keep away from the window!”

Robin’s voice sharply calls them back to earth and Eddie realises that they’d swayed close enough to create a shadow behind the exposed glass pane. Eddie retreats, kicking his foot over once more, “Stay over there, big boy.”

Steve's expression is amused as he holds his palms up, making sure he’s firmly behind the wooden walls. “All the way over here, sweetheart.” Eddie laughs softly, looking down at the plastic container, the scraped-down sides proof of how hungry he’d been. He’s starting to get an idea of why Steve had been so convinced that Eddie was attracted to him back when he’d first landed.

 

 

Notes:

folks, if you're ever interested because you think something is familiar but you can't remember where in the story I'm referencing (because it's a pretty long fic so far!😅), I'm always happy to answer in the comments 💚

I'm also over at tumblr under the same name if you want to follow for occasional micro stories or incorrect quotes. I'm occasionally interesting💚

Chapter 31: The Dive

Summary:

Last chapter, the party comes to rescue Eddie at Rick's boathouse, they name the evil they're fighting as Vecna, and Eddie finds himself accidentally flirting with Steve.

This chapter, Eddie desperately dives after Steve after he is taken through the gate in Lover's Lake and Steve reveals that he's always thought Eddie didn't like him.

Notes:

Folks, check out this wonderful art that a lovely reader made for Copper Boy.

They're the first person to ever make me fanart so please give them some love, they've got symbolism and captured the mood of this fic, and I truly love it 💚

His light-hearted amusement with Steve lingers until it shatters. The next night seeing Eddie fleeing from Jason and Patrick over Lover’s Lake, having found him through their own sleuthing. He paddles out in the motorboat with its cursed damned broken engine, only to be confronted by the terror of limbs snapping and eyes sucking into empty sockets again; Patrick’s lifeless and distorted body drops into the unforgiving waters.

Eddie desperately swims to the edge, blocking his ears from Jason’s angry cries and stumbles through the woods, every snap of a twig under him an echo of Patrick and Chrissy’s bones.

It takes a night of twitching in terror at every noise in the loud forest before morning follows and he’s finally able to steal a walkie from a worksite, dialling into the channel Dustin had given him.

“Are you okay?” Dustin asks, voice staticky over the radio.

Incredulously, Eddie stares down at the black plastic in his hand. How does he tell the kid that he’s crossed so far from fear into an almost numbness? Death could reach for him right this second and he might just stand there rather than running for once.

“Nah, man. Pretty damn far from okay,” he says instead of a complicated explanation of his mental state right now. “I’m at Skull Rock, can you get here?”

“We’re on our way, hold tight.”

The tension running through Eddie’s body makes him feel tight and bloated, like his terror is pressing from the inside out ready to be let loose in an explosive roar from one sharp crack. He crouches on top of the boulder shaped by nature to resemble a human skull, hoping that the high ground will at least allow him to spot intruders.

However, the sound of approaching footsteps and bickering voices sound from behind where he can’t get a good view, winding his nerves tighter until he realises that the obnoxious argument is between Steve and Dustin as they enter the clearing. Relief makes him almost giddy and he jumps down with a thud, scaring the shit out of the kid by landing directly behind him.

Dustin wheels backwards with a squawk, arms in the air, but Steve only shoots him a dry look like he knows what he’s up to. “Are you okay?” he asks soberly.

The question brings his giddiness down to earth level and Eddie can only stare at him, knowing that fear has become a permanent etching in the lines of his face. Steve grimaces in sympathy, “Were you there? With Patrick. That’s the rumour.”

Nancy, Robin, Max, and Lucas step into the clearing, conversation falling to a halt when they spot him. Max’s face falls at whatever she sees in Eddie’s expression, and he drops to a crouch on the ground, mind and body exhausted.

“It was the same with Patrick. Exactly like Chrissy but with the fun bonus of being in Lover’s Lake this time. When I got to the shore I tried calling you guys but my walkie was drenched.” He scrubs his hand over his face, “I ran. Swam? But I left them behind.”

Robin and Steve exchange a look over Dustin’s head and she cautiously approaches him in his hunched spot, hovering like she’s unsure if she should touch him or not. “It’s not like you had any choice, Eddie. We figured out that Vecna’s in the Upside Down and he’s been killing like this for a long time.”

“At least since the late ‘50s,” Nancy says grimly, crossing her arms. “We need to kill him before he gets Max.”

Eddie’s heart stops, his mouth filling with coppery fear, “You’re in his sights, Red?”

She grimaces and holds up her Walkman, he can hear the tinny sound of Kate Bush playing through the foam earpads resting against her collarbones, “Music keeps him out of my head, but it can’t last forever.”

“That’s how he takes his victims,” Lucas explains grimly, “he gets into their minds until it’s like they’re somewhere else and then he takes them.”

“Like Vecna the lich king,” Eddie says quietly, thinking of their guesswork on the boathouse floor and this fellowship’s inexplicable trust in a D&D manual on monsters. “He bends the fabric of their world with his illusions.”

Luca’s jaw flexes before he admits roughly, “Once he’s got his hooks in them, he controls their bodies from the Upside Down. That’s why you couldn’t see anyone hurting Chrissy and Patrick, even though something was obviously happening to them.”

Eddie’s gaze snaps to Max but she looks away, face stonily averted to avoid exposing her fear. His mind starts to fill with static as his imagination automatically transposes Max’s face onto Chrissy’s floating, snapping body. The anxious humming gets louder and louder until Steve’s voice cuts through the noise.

“We’re going to get him before that,” Steve says gravely, his face doesn’t betray much more than his determination, but Eddie can see fear in the tremble of his hand before he shoves it into his pants pocket. Eddie’s dread only increases, Steve’s gesture puncturing any hope Eddie has that they’re exaggerating the danger.

“Drive a stake through his heart,” Max agrees with a deceptively carefree stabbing gesture.

Lucus looks darkly sceptical, “If he has a heart.”

The group falls silent, reflecting on how little they know about the dark wizard who only has a name because they’d given it to him.

Steve cocks his head and Eddie squints, watching him suspiciously as his face blanks, “A stake? Is he like a vamp— is he a vampire?” Steve catches Eddie side-eyeing him as the group erupts, talking over Steve and starting to plan the next steps. He shoots him a surreptitious wink before joining back into the fray.

Eddie lets his head fall, hair shielding his face rather than expose Steve with his smile, feeling that frost retreat again. He wishes, fiercely like a cold fire blazing in his heart, that his Steve is here right now. Would give anything to see the familiar look of affection in his eyes, feel the strength of his arms around him. But it is nice, to see echoes of him here in Present Steve.

Odd too, seeing these unknown sides of him. Eddie has only truly known him on his own terms, their relationship defined by the trailer walls around them. But here, Steve once more demonstrates the multifaceted nature that runs beneath the calm surface. Showing different ways of presenting himself according to his relationship with the other person.

He remains unsurprised: Steve has always had hidden depths that he only chose to show after Eddie gained his trust by degrees.

Watching him argue with Dustin, Eddie thinks too that Steve leads from the back with this bunch of strong personalities, the sports captain never having really left him after all. Pushing the group towards ideas that seem simple but are in fact practical, allowing himself to be the airhead so the clever members of the group can stretch their clever minds. He watches Steve exchange meaningful glances with Robin every now and then and thinks that maybe in Robin’s rambling she knowingly bounces off him too, a way of operating in extreme situations that they’ve had unfortunate enough experience to practise and hone.

It makes him wistful in a way, to know that despite the intensity of their relationship and the nature of living together so closely, that there are still sides of Steve he’s yet to experience. It fuels a rising sense of survival too, breaking through that numbness that had infected him since watching Patrick’s body snap in the air. Eddie had promised his springtime boy that he’d be his anchor, drawing him back to him through time and he needs to survive Vecna to do that.

Steve snaps his fingers irritably at Dustin as his back retreats into the woods, “Hey, we can’t just go on a hike to find the gate with Eddie. He’s a wanted man, we need to stash him somewhere safe first.”

Dustin’s face screws up at Steve and his tone is combative, “That’s up to him. We know that my compass is screwy, which means there’s likely an Upside Down gate nearby. We should inspect it while we have the chance.” He turns expectant eyes to Eddie, “What say you, Eddie the Banished?”

“What say I…?” Eddie trails off as his eyes roam over the fellowship, eyes snagging on Steve’s yellow sweater.

He’s reminded of when this present version had tried to reach out to Max over Thanksgiving and Steve’s ongoing determination to reach her even in the face of rejection. “I say that I wish it need not have happened in my time, but war it must be.”

Nancy nods in firm agreement next to Lucas and he continues to unwind his thoughts like a spool, “We defend ourselves against the destroyer, not for the love of the bright sword’s sharpness, the arrow its swiftness, or the warrior his glory. I love only that which they defend.”

Dustin’s face twists at Eddie this time like he wants to point out how he’d mangled the lines from multiple characters and books together. Steve looks lost, turning to Robin but she just shrugs with a roll of her eyes. Yet Lucas continues Eddie’s direction by echoing the wise Lady of Lothlórien, “Even the smallest person can change the course of history.” He glances at Max, who slowly smiles in response.

Eddie nods in resignation, standing with a push against his knees. There had never been a choice as far as he is concerned. As soon as Steve landed in his trailer in 1984 Eddie knew that something big and scary was going to happen. Falling in love with him had only cinched the fact that Eddie would be running towards the danger rather than away.

“Let’s do that then,” he says grimly, walking onwards to follow Dustin’s path.

It takes them well past dusk, but they follow Dustin’s compass in a convoluted path until they arrive at the dark shores of Lover’s Lake. The trees around them whisper against the cold night sky and Eddie shifts uneasily as they find the boat he had abandoned, having washed up on the shore not too far from their destination. This all feels a little too familiar.

“It’s my goddamn theory,” Dustin protests as the older members push out into the lake leaving the kids behind. Eddie takes an oar, thinking that all the jogging this year has done little for his upper body strength as he strains the wood against the water.

“You heard Nance,” Robin cheerlessly smirks as she takes the other oar, “you guys stay here with Max, keep an eye out and we’ll be back in no time.” Dustin splutters and Robin waves with a mocking blitheness, “Miss you already.”

Steve snickers, holding onto the edge of the boat to steady himself as they glide over the lake, “Thanks for that. He was going to be a butthead about it either way, but I think he still hesitates when it comes to pushing you around.”

Smiling smugly, she continues rowing, “That’s because I’m intimidating.”

Steve’s face takes on a sly expression, “That’s not what Lizzie said all those months ago.” Robin blushes but only hisses a quiet, “Shut up,” her eyes flickering to Nancy. Steve chuckles, knocking her ankle with his Nikes. Eddie winces at how hard she retaliates with her answering kick.

Nancy looks up, swinging her head between them like she’s surprised at their easy friendship before shaking her head free of the distraction. The compass has started to frantically flicker. “Stop here, I think we’re above it.”

Eddie and Robin exchange glances, pulling up their oars simultaneously with a splashing sound.

Steve stands up and an uneasy tendril unfurls in Eddie as he toes off his shoes, pulling his socks off while half-crouched despite being in a rocking boat. “What are you doing?” he asks and the tendril blooms into fear when Steve responds, “Somebody’s got to go down and check this out.”

Robin eyes him with concern even as she automatically props him up with a steadying hand, clearly used to the particular way he takes off his socks, “Technically, we don’t know that it’s in the water.”

Nancy shakes her head, “It has to be, I crawled out of the Upside Down and it was open like a gross mouth in the earth. We know the gate at the Lab and at Starcourt were physical gaps between dimensions that we could see and touch. We’d see it if it were anywhere else.”

Eddie looks over into the dark abyss of the water and starts pulling out the plastic bag in his pocket. He knows that stubborn look on Steve’s face, so he might as well make sure that he has the protection of being able to see three feet in front of him at the very least.

But Eddie’s hands betray him as he wraps the torch, shaking as he wraps it as soundly as he can at the memory of the last time he’d been in these waters. His mind creates an endless loop of Steve in Patrick’s place: eerily hovering as his frame is cracked into a distorted, unnatural thing until he falls into the water with a deafening splash. Again and again.

Eddie is jolted out of his panicked imagination when Steve’s yellow jumper hits him in the chest, his long, loose hair flying backwards from the force of it.

Head snaping up in shock, he sees Steve smiling gently down at him while reaching for the flashlight securely wrapped in plastic. “Thanks, that’s a good idea,” he says, testing the weight of it in his hand before positioning himself at the edge of the boat.

Eddie exhales a steadying breath, waggling his eyebrows, “Just looking for a chance to get half-naked, right?”

“Swimming co-captain has got to be good for something,” Steve smirks with a wink before diving into the lake in one graceful move, barely creating a splash although the boat rocks with the ripples of his action. Eddie watches the retreating yellow light, his heart starting to pound the further Steve swims away.

He sees Robin’s raised brows, “What?”

She shakes her head, mouth tugging in a way that reminds him of Scoops, but she’d at least had the decency to hide her amusement behind her hand back then. “Nothing. Steve is right though, that was just a good idea: covering the flashlight.”

He nods, drawn to the yellow that’s now returning closer to the surface. He can finally breathe again once Steve breaches the water, panting before saying, “I found it. It’s pretty wild, it’s more of a snack-size gate than the mama gate but it’s still pretty damn big.” He hands the torch back to Eddie, the bag is wet but the light is still working.

They all look to Nancy and she blinks, a frown forming. “I’m not sure—"

The water undulates as Steve dips, his hands on the boat rim rocking them inside. “Steve?” Robin frowns, reaching towards him.

In the split second before he’s savagely pulled underneath the surface, Eddie sees the panic bloom in Steve’s eyes. The violence of his submergence creates a whirlpool before he disappears into the inky darkness.

“Steve!” Robin screams, reaching out, but Eddie is already moving. His panic at Steve in danger propels him past the girls and he shoots into the water to snatch him back.

Eddie’s still holding the torch as he aggressively plunges towards the lake floor, the light catching flashes of Steve’s open mouth and terrified eyes as his hands reach out to him. But the water drags at Eddie’s leather and denim and his Reeboks feel like lead weights.

As he desperately propels forward the glowing red maw at the bottom becomes larger, wider, and Eddie can see the thick vine that has wrapped itself around Steve’s ankle before it viciously yanks him through the gate. Eddie mindlessly drops the weight in his hand and shoots forward, touching the warm and fleshy portal to follow after Steve.

He disappears from their world too, tumbling over in a disorienting feeling of weightlessness while experiencing a near-simultaneous gravity at his feet to land on his knees in a barren wasteland, sharp rocks and gravel digging into his palms. Nearby, Steve has been brought onto his back with what looks like demon bats from hell digging into the soft meat of his torso. He cries and shoves at their bodies, trying to dislodge their sharp teeth and avoid their long whipping tails.

Eddie scrambles forward, scooping up an abandoned boat oar and, with a bellow, he strikes the one on Steve’s left, hitting it away with a punishing whack and it skitters away hissing and chittering in high-pitched noises before taking flight. The weight of its wings creates a heavy whomping sound.

So focused had he been on Steve that Eddie missed Robin falling into the Upside Down almost immediately after him. Now, she springs forward, jerking the bat off of Steve’s right by its tail and arcing her arm to slam it violently against the ground. The creature squirms, fangs flashing, and she stomps on it with her boot before pulling so firmly that she nearly rips the thing in two.

Nancy advances with the twin of Eddie’s oar and the bats retreat, screeching as they take to the air and fly away. “We have to get out of here,” she pants, pulling Steve up with an outstretched arm. Robin wraps her arm around him too and they run towards the line of trees in the distance, an eerie replica of the forest they had just been walking through. Eddie quickly follows, oar in hand and eyes fixed on the sky.

The adrenaline rides them hard, propelling them until they are firmly under the cover of the uncanny trees; it is a dark, strange place.

They slow, stopping with panting breaths and Eddie frowns in confusion at their surroundings. He can’t entirely put his finger on it, but everything feels wrong about the doppelganger forest: the undertones of the foliage a cold blue rather than an earthy green, the branches that should move by wind or woodland creatures unnaturally still, and the unpleasant feeling that he is being watched, but by who he can’t begin to fathom because this world is bleakly barren.

So preoccupied with teasing through the sensation that he in an interloper, Eddie doesn’t see when Steve falters, suddenly white and unsteady. “Steve!” Robin jumps forward, reaching out to bolster him with an arm around his waist and positioning him against a boulder that sits high off the ground.

It’s covered in gritty ash, but Eddie thinks that it’s probably better than the dirty and eerie forest floor. He eyes a mysteriously moving vine near them, the only sign of life other than the bats; it undulates in a slow slithering motion too gradual to take as a threat but nevertheless is a disturbing sight.

Nancy follows his gaze, “This place is like a hivemind, all the creatures are connected to each other no matter how far away so don’t go touching anything that looks alive.”

“Christ,” Eddie mutters, unable to wrap his mind around the reality of a world straight out of one of his fantasy adventures. They’re jolted out of their conversation by Robin’s alarmed sound.

Looking green, her hands hover over the torn wounds on Steve’s torso. She swallows, “Fuck, what did they do to you? Did they eat you? Steve, are you eaten?” She forces herself to lean in and look further, the unhealthy tinge deepening, “Holy shit, what if they have rabies?”

Steve seems to block her out for a moment, taking a deep breath as he closes his eyes to steady himself, but the sight of him in pain only spurs Robin’s babbling, her eyes becoming wide with a tinge of panic, “Because they looked like bats but not, like, proper bats. They looked as if the demogorgons had babies with a bat. And some people say that rabies is where the vampire myth comes from.” She gestures wildly as her imagination takes hold and she starts pacing in front of him.

Steve opens his eyes and tiredly watches her even as his mouth moves in an expression of reluctant amusement. She correctly interprets his change in mood and straightens, pointing a finger at the sluggish bleeding from the gashes on his sides, “No, you don’t get it. Because people with rabies get aggressive—hello! Biting! And they can’t stand strong stimuli like garlic and light. What if these are the bats? The ones that turn you into a vampire and—”

“Robs,” Steve gingerly shifts, catching her arm as she paces in front of him. “It’s okay, I’m okay.”

Robin stops, looking down at him with tight lines carved into her face before it abruptly crumbles into a heartbroken expression, “I thought I lost you.” She moves to embrace him in her arms but blanches the closer she gets to the blood and jagged skin.

Steve smiles reassuringly, rubbing his thumb over her hand instead, “Hello? Former swimming co-captain, there’s no way I could have been taken down.” She snorts, but her shoulders relax somewhat even as her gaze drops to his injuries in resignation.

“Uh, I might just…” She sticks her thumb behind her and retreats. “Nancy, you look like you’d know your way around a wound, can you…?” Eddie had caught a glance of Nancy while Robin momentarily lost her mind and the woman’s expression had shuttered closed the longer she spoke, her arms crossing and lips pursing. He wonders if Nancy’s still got a thing for Steve and sees Robin as a threat.

Dropping her arms, she steps towards Steve and Eddie is displeased himself as she strips in front of him. With Steve sitting on the boulder his head is at chest height and, to Eddie, it looks like she practically throws her tits in his face while pulling off her soft jumper.

Unceremoniously, she crouches in front of him to start tearing her jumper into long strips and Eddie almost runs forward and pushes her to the side, because they look so intimate in this moment. Former lovers who, Eddie begrudgingly admits, a stirring of jealousy stabbing at him like when he used to watch Steve lounge a possessive arm over Nancy’s shoulders, look stupidly right together.

A beautiful woman and a beautiful man, similar backgrounds with good families and good homes, mirror images that if life were fair would surely have them positioned together, arm-in-arm, shoulder-to-shoulder, bright, wide smiles facing out into the world.

But, Eddie pensively considers, watching her efficiently tie the strips into one long bandage and wind it around his wounds, there’s a detachment about Nancy that doesn’t match Steve’s need for softness. And despite Eddie’s concerns, there’s no hint of the flirt to her as she tends to her ex-boyfriend, not even when Steve winces at one particular move, too focused on concentrating on the job at hand.

It’s not that she’s callous, Eddie mulls on the thought as she half-smiles at Steve before stepping back. It’s just that Nancy Wheeler has the sort of focus that steers her towards righting wrongs and uncovering injustice, and that can leave very little time for soft assurances when big events are happening.

Steve gingerly stands, “Okay, so we should probably get out of here, right?” The bandages around his torso shift and slide down, falling loosely around him. Nancy’s cheeks pinken at the sight and she sighs at herself.

Robin elbows her with a conspiratorial smile, “Hey, you did miles better than I could have.” She pretends to gag and Nancy brightens slightly in amusement as Robin plays it up. “I couldn’t even touch him. I mean, who knows if demon bats from hell are contagious?”

“Gee, thanks Robs. Love you too,” Steve says dryly, tugging at the cloth to try and make it stick better.

Eddie steps forward, “If it’s okay, I can probably do something about those.” He avoids Steve’s gaze as he pushes him back onto the boulder, Steve obediently sitting while Eddie unwraps the makeshift first aid.

Nancy concentrates on matters that she can try to solve, face grim, “I’m not sure how we’re going to get out, but we should get protection at the very least.”

“I don’t think condoms were designed for bat attacks,” Robin nudges her with an elbow again and Nancy loses some of her graveness, shooting an amused smile at Robin. “No, I can protect you better than that.”

She laughs at Robin’s waggling eyebrows and shoves her away with a friendly hand. “We just need to get to my place. The Upside Down is exactly like Hawkins: it has the same boat and oars even though the lake is dry, the same trees even if the forest is weird, and it has the same houses too. We just need to get to my place; I’ve got a small stash of guns for any time the Upside Down flares up again.”

Eddie ignores the girls as he concentrates on firmly wrapping the jagged bites. The cloth immediately dampens from Steve’s blood, but Eddie’s relieved to see that it doesn’t soak through. Rather than the loose circle that Nancy had made, he concentrates on making a spiral pattern with each new layer covering two-thirds of the previous one. A prayer of thanks is silently let loose to that little library book that still sits in the corner of his room.

Robin sees Eddie hesitate with the end piece and leans into Nancy’s space. “Hey Nance, let me borrow this?” She spears her fingers through her perm and Nancy blushes as she reflexively jerks backwards, but Robin walks with her so she doesn’t tear at her hair. Leaning back over, Robin hands him a small pink barrette; she has the hint of a smirk on her face and Eddie sees Steve look at her contemplatively.

“Perfect,” Eddie grins at her in thanks before he uses it to securely clip the end of the bandage. He shifts on his knees and looks up at Steve triumphantly, pleased to have done a good job on his first try and he gets caught in Steve’s dark eyes, gazing down at him intently.

“Thanks,” Steve says softly and Eddie swallows, smile dying in the moment that feels tender and serious, like he’s moved Steve in some way that he doesn’t understand yet.

The ground trembles violently under them and the connection snaps as Eddie falls to his feet, Nancy quickly grabbing Robin so that she doesn’t follow after him. Steve had stabilised himself against the boulder but winces, “We should probably hurry up. Who knows when those bats could come back.”

“Or demogorgons,” Nancy adds grimly, and Steve pales before standing resolutely.

“Let’s get going.”

Eddie scrambles up and after the group as they start marching; with the forest being a replica of Hawkins, Steve is familiar enough with the make-out points around Skull Rock to guide them to Nancy’s house.

The girls draw ahead, Robin asking Nancy about whether she’d tested the Russian guns that she’d confiscated over July last year, and Steve and Eddie continue to walk side-by-side. He considers Steve’s bare feet as he avoids a creeping vine, gaze drawing up to his exposed upper body.

“Leather or denim?” Eddie offers, pointing between their chests. Steve eyes Eddie’s outfit, one hand hovering over his stained bandages and says, “Denim. I’m warm as it is, and your vest looks loose enough not to drag on these.”

Eddie amiably hands over his battle vest, pleased that he can do this for Steve at the very least. He fingers the cocoon and butterfly that Eddie had embroidered at the edge of the button placket, “You did these?”

Containing his entertainment at the muse himself asking the question, Eddie keeps a straight face as he nods. “Yeah, I got into sewing this year and wanted to tailor my vest a little.”

“They’re great,” Steve says, smiling before his expression sobers, eyes running over Eddie’s bedraggled hair from their desperate plunge through Lover’s Lake. “I can’t believe you dove after me,” he mutedly observes.

Eddie doesn’t like how Steve’s face is starting to shutter away so he nudges him, trying to lighten the mood, “Thought we agreed on being friends.”

It works; Steve grins into his chest and Eddie feels that familiar thrill of being able to make Steve truly smile, “Yeah, but I wasn’t sure that you meant it.” His lips turn down as he contemplates the forest, the absence of wind running through the trees lending an eerie countenance to a place that should be full of life. “It’s not like you have a lot of choice in companions while on the run and fighting a supernatural serial killer.”

Eddie snorts, amused at how Steve really laid it all out there. Steve eyes him, relaxing into a companionable sort of demeanour. “Honestly, I thought you didn’t like me much,” he confesses.

Eddie’s brows rise is surprise, thinking of all the times he’d basically panted after Steve in his short shorts and white tube socks, let alone the intimate, albeit brief, conversations they’ve shared since that first time on the Harrington staircase.

“No, really,” Steve insists, ducking under a branch full of unnaturally dark-coloured leaves. “The looks you gave me sometimes…” He pauses while searching for the right words, “They were scathing.”

Eddie grimaces as he avoids a creeping vine slowly slithering across the forest floor, the tip of its end drawing it forward over a fallen branch. “That may have been more about the company you kept than you specifically.”

“It’s okay to say you didn’t like me,” Steve says doubtfully. “I know I’m not everyone’s favourite high school asshole.”

Eddie stops himself from saying something stupid like not everyone knows Steve like he does. Instead, he falls back on old ideas long fallen by the wayside, useless and near forgotten. “No, it wasn’t that; I promise. I’ll admit, it maybe took me awhile to see you beyond the whole King Steve persona. The Munson Doctrine was pretty solid that rich popular dudes are usually pricks to be avoided unless I’m lightening their wallet.”

Steve chuckles, checking that the girls are still in sight in the distance, “Yeah, I heard that Alex Tinsley practically needed to draw a line of credit to keep buying from you.”

“The guy has a problem,” Eddie smugly says, thinking of his fat wallet and that Alex’s problem is that he always incurs the asshole tax by making Eddie deliver to him personally and at specific hours. “Then imagine my surprise when I worked out that Steve Harrington is a pretty good dude.”

Steve scoffs as he looks away, ostensibly to check for demon creatures in the stationary trees, but Eddie can see a betraying hint of pink rise over his cheeks.

He nibbles on his lip thinking about the different sides of Steve he’s seen over spring break, at how he’s watched Dustin and Steve bickering and comparing the difference of their snappy interactions to the kid’s hero worship whenever Steve is out of earshot.

Steve, the tank of the party, versus the man with a swathe of deep emotions running underneath.

“No, really,” Eddie stops him with a serious hand on his arm, meeting his gaze sincerely and hoping that his words make an impression on Steve’s stubborn insecurities. “I see you, Steve. You protect kids from their asshole brothers and fight the good fight, yes. But it’s not just that: you care. You care in the type of way that it doesn’t bother you if you look like an idiot as long as you can cheer up your friends.

“You dive headfirst into a dangerous lake in the dead of the night not because you were a sports captain, but because you want to check for threats first. You make sure that the path is clear for Robin and Nancy and the kids because you’ll be damned if they come to any harm under your watch.”

During his short speech, Steve had watched him, his mouth slowly opening in astonishment and blinking like he was being assaulted by Eddie’s words. Eddie releases his arm, stepping back a safe distance, “For what it’s worth, I’d be honoured to be your friend. I’m not saying it because we’re stuck in this hell hole; I like you and I think you’re a good person, and I’d be stupid not to see that.”

Steve clears his throat, gaze darting away to start walking forward again, face averted. Eddie lets him, walking by his side but giving him silence and space.

“Not a lot of people would agree,” Steve finally says, his voice a touch rough.

“Yeah, well, a lot of people are idiots,” Eddie flatly observes, thinking of a Steve in ‘84 with no parents and no friends, unable to call anyone for help while concussed on the bathroom floor.

“You know, I see the same in you,” Steve’s gaze is dark and narrowed at Eddie, standing on safer ground with a topic not concentrated on himself. “I know you’ve looked out for the boys since they joined Hellfire, and Christ knows I was worried about their nerdy little souls surviving high school.”

“It is pretty soul-sucking,” Eddie agrees, shoving his fists into his jacket pockets. The familiar intent look in Steve’s eyes makes him want to reach out and touch him.

“I didn’t know about Max though,” Steve says curiously.

Eddie chuckles, thinking about how best to dance around the truth when, at the beginning, his primary motivation had been allaying Steve’s worries. Mischievously he decides to play with it and sways into Steve’s space, looking up at him through his bangs, eyes gleaming. “Well, a certain handsome fellow mentioned that she’d saved his butt once.”

Steve rolls his eyes, nudging Eddie out of his face in consternation, “I would’ve gotten there.”

“Uh huh,” Eddie hums doubtfully, “I saw the concussion, Stevie, don’t lie.” He adds more soberly, “And I knew that you were worried about her after Billy died.”

Robin trips up ahead and Eddie squints, but it looks like she’s pulling a Munson manoeuvre of falling on air rather than a creature connected to the hivemind.

Nancy takes her arm and links it with her own, dragging her ahead. Eddie smiles at Robin’s dumbfounded expression.

He turns to Steve to share his amusement, but Steve is staring at him, amazement playing across the frown on his brow, “You really looked in on Max because I mentioned her at the bookshop?” Eddie wants to kiss the furrow away; instead, he looks ahead.

“Not only because of that since I ended up liking her for herself. To be honest, we’ve got a lot in common and earning her friendship felt pretty good.” Steve nods, a smile glimmering in his eyes, “She’s like a cat. If she gives you her affection, you know you’ve done something right.”

Eddie nods eagerly, gesturing in gratitude that he understands what Eddie had seen in Max too, “That’s what I thought!”

Still linked, Nancy and Robin turn around, matching scowls on their faces and Eddie blushes, embarrassed at being wrapped up in the conversation, at forgetting their lives are literally on the line because he’s having fun talking, and okay, maybe flirting a little, with Steve.

“We, uh, better catch up,” he mutters, striding forward and knowing without a shadow of a doubt that he’s silently laughing at Eddie’s hastily retreating back. Steve joins Robin and Eddie decides the better part of valour is retreat and chooses to walk by Nancy. The women remained linked in the middle.

“It’s weird,” Robin says once they catch up, gazing at the oddly coloured foliage above them.

“Tell me about it,” Steve grumbles as he follows her gaze.

“No, dingus,” Robin nudges him with an elbow, “Don’t you feel like everything is hollow like we’re in a made-up world.”

“Those bats weren’t made up,” Nancy says pointedly.

“But they’re different things,” Robin argues, stumbling on a branch. Steve’s hand shoots out, holding her upright before they move forward again. “One lot are terrifying creatures but alive, and sort of like the worst nightmares of an imaginative kid.”

“Or the best,” Eddie offers, thinking of their Hellfire campaigns, “if the kid is into spooky stuff.”

Robin leans around Nancy to shoot him finger guns, “Exactly, thank you. But the world itself is different. It’s not alive like the monsters, for one thing. It’s really ordinary in comparison but also as if it’s built from a completely different composition.” She reaches up and plucks a leaf before any of them can stop her. Nancy makes a low sound of protest, and the boys reach out as if to yank her back.

But the forest remains silent and when she opens her hand, the leaf has crumbled in her hand. It disintegrates into black ash before fading away to nothingness in her palm. They watch in amazement but Steve curses, “Jesus Rob, that could have hurt you like the vines.”

“Or called the monsters to us,” Nancy further scolds.

Eddie’s thumping heart slows. “But it proved her point,” he notes. “If the forest was connected to the living things here then it would have acted like the hivemind and either attacked or called other creatures to defend itself.”

“But it didn’t, so the environment is separate from the entities that inhabit it,” Robin says triumphantly, and they all move forward by unspoken agreement.

But even Robin is stumped when they finally arrive at Nancy’s home, all of them blankly staring at the shoebox in her bedroom. Where a Smith & Wesson and a Soviet Tokarev should be, a pair of delicate white pumps lay instead.

“I’d rather the condoms,” Robin jokes to cover her uneasiness.

“I haven’t had these since ‘83,” Nancy protests, staring at the shoes like they’ve offended her. "Holly smeared cake on them during her third birthday party.

"My little sister," she adds at Robin's questioning brow before her eyes light up with an idea. Nancy swiftly moves to her desk, flipping through what looks like a diary, but pauses on the last page that has writing on it. “This is the day that Will disappeared.”

“Byers?” Eddie asks, confused.

Steve sits on her bed, frowning, “What does that mean?”

Nancy looks at Robin for a long moment and in their gaze Eddie can see a dawning understanding form between them.

“What if,” Nancy says slowly, “Robin’s right and the Upside Down version of Hawkins is made up? What if a scared boy found himself in an unnatural world being hunted by monsters and wished for somewhere safe and familiar?”

“That’s insane,” Robin breathes, collapsing next to Steve. Their shoulders touch as they lean into each other.

“No less insane than falling into a realm full of sentient vines and monster bats,” Eddie points out. “Maybe Byers has superpowers, maybe this place can create its own environment.” He sighs, “Either way, we’re without weapons and still have no idea how to get out of here.”

Steve cocks his head, “Do you hear that?”

“What?” Nancy asks, looking around with a dubious frown. Steve holds his palm up, asking for silence before jumping from the bed and bolting downstairs.

They realise, after scrambling around the ground floor of the Wheeler’s home, that Dustin and the kids are on the other side. Between shouted words and using light bulbs through the thin wall between dimensions, they communicate enough to work out how to get out of here.

Steve looks around at them, “Right, so Eddie’s place?”

“Eddie’s place,” Robin agrees, and they all walk out of the house, intent on finding the waiting gate on his trailer ceiling.

 

 

Notes:

folks, fandom is a beautiful collaborative thing. SO even though I wrote nearly this entire thing and wait until I've edited each chapter to all hell before posting, I heard your comments last week and I did a wee bit of adjustmemts. based on some thoughts that Max would've tried to reassure Eddie re his uncle and his shut-in boyfriend I added to Chapter 30: "Conspicuously—likely only to Eddie...

your comments also had me adding another couple of hundred words to the final chapter

lol but overall don't read too much into the new sentence; I promise it has no greater meaning 💚

Chapter 32: The Ninth Visit

Summary:

Last chapter, Eddie, Robin, and Nancy dived into the gate in Lover's Lake to rescue Steve, and Robin speculated that the hivemind creatures are very different from the make up of doppelganger Hawkins.

This chapter, the crew make their way into their own world, Eddie patches Present Steve up with his first-aid kit, and a shaky Future Steve appears for his ninth visit.

The weird thing about being confronted by a doppelganger version of his trailer is that everything looks disturbingly normal to Eddie. Take away the falling ash from the sky outside and the unhealthy blue tinge to this world, then the living room that they stand in could have been his home from 1983.

He can see some differences that attest to Nancy’s theory that this alternate version was created when Will Byers arrived all those years ago. There are fewer hats and mugs on the wall and the keys for his at-the-time newly bought van are on the hook sans the ghoul figurine he hadn’t painted yet.

Yet, looking up at the ceiling with Steve, Nancy, and Robin, he can safely say that the pink and red pulsing circle at the top of his ceiling had never been there either.

“Gross,” Robin summarises succinctly, they all nod before becoming fascinated by the rippling movement across the surface. Nancy squints, moving forward but thankfully isn’t close enough to be hit by the splatter as a broom handle pierces the thin barrier to reveal Dustin, Max, Lucas, and Erica looking up at them as if they are upside down.

“Trippy,” Eddie mutters and Steve sighs, “It’s always one thing or another with this place.”

Robin eyes the pulsing at the edges of the opening and the light discharge on the floor, pointing out, “At least it doesn’t seem to be connected to the hive mind.”

“It’s like a popped pimple,” Eddie says, curiously toeing the ground. “Maybe this is the visible skin between worlds. Like a protective layer around the Upside Down that filters out what doesn’t belong.”

Steve eyes him in surprise, “You must like bio.”

Eddie winks, moving out of Nancy’s way as she signals them to step back, “My best class, handsome.”

But Nancy only purses her lips in frustration, “I’m not sure where our theory stands then. If it’s skin then it’s living, but then it’s the first thing that’s alive that’s not connected to the hivemind. Unless the Upside Down is separate from faux Hawkins and the monsters inside it.”

A rope made of linen falls between the broken membrane. Robin looks between them, nudging Steve with an elbow until he understands the finger she imperiously rolls at him. He bows mockingly before shifting onto one knee, “Sorry, forgot myself for a moment there.”

Robin braces one boot on his knee and a hand at his shoulder, jumping up to grasp the rope with a grunt, “As long as you know what you did, handsome.” She stretches out to the gate and her body disappears, flipping over to land on the mattress the kids had laid out for their landing.

Steve blushes but gamely looks up at Eddie, “You next. I’ve seen you in gym class so let me boost you up as well.”

Eddie shoots him the bird even as he wryly admits, “It’s almost like I’m liable to trip on air.” Steve snorts and, as Eddie jumps up, he wonders if he’d recalled Eddie falling into the brick wall during gym class.

Eddie reaches through the gate and the familiar sensation of weightlessness returns, as if he is falling through space only to be abruptly yanked down by gravity, pulling him down to land onto the mattress with an oomph.

“That would be fun if we weren’t running for our lives,” he observes to the kids. Dustin grins at him in response and Max snorts in reluctant humour. As he rolls out of the way for Nancy, Eddie is suddenly reminded that Steve journeyed through time by entering the gate above them.

Robin extends her hand and pulls him up to stand next to her even as his body turns hot then cold. Pulse picking up at the possibility that Steve is about to travel back in time as soon as he sends Nancy through. Eddie’s mind races but he can’t figure out how to explain that Steve should stay on his side of the barrier; can’t even think about how to justify it when he’s not allowed to say anything in fear of the butterflies.

As he fretfully watches through the gate, Steve starts to almost vibrate in distress, and it becomes clear that something has gone wrong. Nancy rises unbidden from the floor and all concerns of Steve travelling in time are forgotten as she floats in the air in an awfully familiar way.

“Nancy!” Robin screams before frantically turning to Eddie, “Where’s your music? We need to get her music!”

They rush to Eddie’s room, frantically scrambling through his collection, the hard plastics falling from his fingers to clatter on the floor.

“We need real music,” Robin cries out in frustration, holding up handfuls of Metallica and Motörhead cassette tapes. He ignores her as he scrambles to find Steve's collection. Van Halen or Bowie or even the Eurhythmics tape he’d caved and bought for Steve two months ago.

“Eddie! Robin! It’s okay,” Lucas yells, appearing at the doorway. “She stopped. She came back down; Steve is pushing her through now.” And Eddie doesn’t even have a moment to think about the possibility of Steve travelling through time because, as they dash back to the living area, Steve is already stretching forward to touch the gate on the other side.

He comes tumbling down, falling on his back onto the mattress with a grunt. Eddie shudders, tension releasing from stiff muscles.

Steve is still here.

 

---

 

It’s well past midnight once they relocate to Max’s trailer and Eddie glances around, multiple concerns niggling at him. At his position on the couch, he nudges an empty beer bottle out of sight with his foot and asks, “Where’s your mom, Red?”

Max shoots him a tired look, “She picked up shifts at the truck stop off the highway.” Eddie nods in understanding; he knows that Susan was looking for extra work to supplement her money from the diner. He’s sorry for it, even as he’s grateful she’s not here right now.

Nancy clears her throat and takes the stage: outlining Vecna's plan, which he'd revealed to her during the possession, to split the world open like Hawkins is a hot cross bun with the gates connecting in the middle, ready to be torn apart at his command. Three have been created through the deaths of Chrissy, Fred, and Patrick, and now he only needs Max to complete his ritual.

Eddie shakes, hands trembling in a way he has no hope of controlling and violently wishing he had a cigarette right now. He can’t look away from Max’s pale face, knowing that Vecna has found his way into her head through the cracks created by Billy’s death, thinking that if he’d just picked up on her vulnerability sooner then she wouldn’t be in his firing path.

He knew. From as far back as Halloween, he knew that she wasn’t fully okay. Eddie had seen that she was pale and tired and occasionally unsteady but had dismissed it as the sort of exhaustion that comes from having your world turned inside out: moving into a trailer park while your mother is equal parts absent working to keep you fed while turning to the bottle.

And now Vecna has latched onto her grief and anger and self-loathing, amplifying it all to hook his fingers into her brain, drawing Max to him until he can sacrifice her like the others.

Steve’s knee is nervously bouncing next to his on the couch and Eddie peers over through his hair. Between the loose curls, he observes Steve’s unhappy features and wagers that the same thoughts are running through his head.

“You tried,” he whispers to him. Steve startles, turning to him with a questioning expression. “I saw you,” Eddie explains softly as the room continues talking around them, “trying to stop by every now and then, you tried.”

Steve’s jaw works in frustration and angry eyes turn inward, “Not hard enough.”

Eddie sighs, “Same.”

The conversation in front of them starts to descend into madness. Dustin and Robin bicker while Lucas takes a defensive posture around Max, and Erica inserts potshots as Nancy tries to reign in the chaos. Eddie only watches, too exhausted to join in. Steve catches his eyes before standing up, putting his fingers to his lips and letting loose a piercing whistle.

The room abruptly falls silent.

“Okay, I’m calling it,” Steve says, hands falling to his hips.

Dustin squints at him in annoyance, “Calling what? We need to figure this out, Steve. If we don’t fight him while we can then the world is going to end.”

Robin sighs as she and Steve exchange glances, saying, “But it’s not going to end right at this moment.”

“Exactly,” Steve agrees, “half of us haven’t slept for the past twenty-four hours.” He briefly looks at Eddie, “Or more. And I bet none of you have eaten either. Sorry, Max, we’re going to raid your cupboards. Then we’re all going to eat, catch some shut-eye, and work out the plan in the morning.”

“Who put you in charge,” Erica sourly asks next to Lucas.

“I’m not, but you tell me whether anyone has come up with a better idea in the past hour,” Steve raises a haughty eyebrow and silence greets him before everyone starts to move. Max takes Lucas and Erica into the kitchen, and they start dividing left-overs and other foodstuffs they find.

Robin moves aside but stumbles and jostles Steve. He winces, grabbing at his sides and Eddie is reminded that there are other immediate concerns too.

“Come on, you’re coming with me. I have first aid at my place and you need to at least disinfect those." Eddie opens the door, checking that the trailer park is still empty in the dead of the night before jerking his head for Steve to follow him.

Robin pales, “Uh, Steve. I love you, babe, but I’ll let you two do that alone. I don’t think I can stand to look at those bites again without puking on you.”

“That would probably make them worse,” Steve agrees dryly.

“You get it,” she smirks before abruptly pulling him into a hug, he winces at the stretch of his injuries but folds his arms around her. Nancy looks away.

“I can’t believe you let yourself get hurt again,” Robin mutters into Steve’s embrace and he rocks her side-to-side, “Sorry, Robs.” She hums doubtfully before pulling away and pushing him at Eddie, “Go get bandaged up by Dr Munson.”

“I prefer nurse, actually,” Eddie playfully winks at her and Robin rolls her eyes, though a hint of a smile breaks across her face.

“Come on, big boy,” Eddie pushes Steve ahead of him, his hand against the denim vest stretched across his back. He follows the red demon broken free of its silver manacles until they enter his place.

“Where do you want me?” Steve asks as he enters the trailer, looking around uncertainly at the mattress on the floor and the couch shoved to the side. He nearly trips over the pile of Wayne’s blankets and pillows thrown in the middle of the walkway.

“Sorry,” Eddie nudges it over with his toe. “My uncle’s bedroom is basically out here. Sit at the stool — it’ll give me easier access to you.” He directs Steve towards the kitchen with a hand at his back again, thinking about Catherine sitting him there too, rather than having Steve slouch on the bed or a low seat.

He pulls out the stove kettle to boil and arranges a bowl and hand towel next to it. Steve watches him, but only says, “It must be a tight space sometimes.”

Eddie laughs wryly before he walks past the kitchen, thinking of the three of them in the trailer. “You have no idea,” he calls out, “but having the one bedroom does give me a place to store this.”

Steve watches in awed silence as Eddie comes back out with his big green first-aid kit in one hand and a leather belt in the other, unzipping the case to reveal its eight colour-coded modules. He washes his hand before pulling out the purple for dressings and bandages and lime-green for cuts and wounds.

“Eddie,” Steve says in astonishment, “this is amazing. I thought you were going to pull out some Flintstones band-aids or something; at most, one of those plastic box kits.”

Eddie pours the water into a shallow bowl, letting it cool before flipping a clean towel over the counter, tallying what he needs: gloves, antiseptic wipes, scissors for the non-adhesive dressings, paper tape, the one-use tapered needle, and the spool of medical silk thread he’d gotten from Catherine. He’s just thankful he’s not going to need to slice and pull Steve’s skin from the muscle like he does while practising on the oranges.

He arranges the bowl of cooled water and another towel at their feet to catch the splashing before pulling on the thin plastic gloves with a snap. He eyes Steve grimly, “This is going to hurt. I’ve got some oxy but I’m guessing you don’t want anything fuzzing your mind.”

Steve looks at fiddles with the belt, “You’d be right — this is for me to bite down on?”

“It might help, I don’t know and I’m sorry to say that I’ve never done this on a human before; now, strip.”

Eddie watches Steve swallow the fear, smirking through it, “If you wanted me naked, Eddie, you just had to say.” Nevertheless, he pulls off the denim vest, carefully folding it and placing it on the floor behind them.

For a moment, Eddie stares down at the tools in front of him, overwhelmed despite his confident unpacking so far. He’s only ever practised on fruit in an ordinary setting and never even looked up the type of care needed for wounds potentially infected by the fangs and saliva of animals. Demon animals, he mentally corrects, adding to his apprehension.

Flush out the nasties, he thinks, starting with the bowl of water, and then smother the germs to high hell with as much antiseptic as he can manage, close the wounds, and protect them from further infection with clean bandages. As Eddie begins cleaning him, Steve hisses and clenches the belt rather than biting down on it. Eddie leaves him to it, only able to concentrate on making sure he doesn’t make Steve’s wounds worse.

The room is silent but for Eddie’s quiet ministrations and Steve gritting his teeth over leather, having quickly given in rather than grind them to dust. Time stretches and snaps in equal measure for Eddie, feeling like the entire endeavour is taking too long, each pierce of Steve’s skin a prolonged, terrible thing while simultaneously it's over before he knows it.

He smooths the last bandage over Steve’s stitches, amazed that his fingers remain steady, “Now, keep these dry. No jumping into dirty lakes or rubbing Upside Down bandages all over them.”

Steve exhales, flexing his stiff jaw and looking pale although clear-eyed, “Got it, doc. Fuck that hurt.” He tosses his head like he’s trying to shake off the pain; that Steve had admitted to it tells Eddie just how awful it had been.

He gingerly stands, one hand on Eddie’s shoulder and a little wobbly. “Can I borrow a shirt?” Eddie nods, walking in and out of his bedroom with his black sleep shirt. It was washed last Thursday, and it’ll be soft on his skin. Eddie holds it open for a grateful Steve who shimmies into it while trying not to aggravate his wounds.

“You go back over, I’m just going to clean up,” Eddie says, smiling reassuringly.

Steve pauses, eyes running over him like he doesn’t recognise him, “Thank you. For this. It sucked, but I don’t know what I would have done without you.”

Eddie pats him on the shoulder and steers him out of the trailer, “I won’t say my pleasure, but no problem. Save some dinner for me, will you? If the critters haven’t laid waste to supplies over there already.”

Steve chuckles while nodding, the door slapping shut behind him as he crosses the park to join the others. Eddie breathes, counts to thirty, and then bolts to the bathroom, vomiting nothing more than water and bile into the toilet bowl. He can still feel the skin under his fingers and that little pop as the needle pierced through it, through Steve’s skin. He retches again, nothing left in his stomach, not even any sour leftovers.

Drawing back, he rests his head against the cool porcelain, giving himself a moment. Figures that he’s earned it.

Eventually, Eddie draws himself up, eyeing himself in the mirror as he realises that Steve had never seen a doctor for his stitches; it had been Eddie and his kit all along. But he doesn't know what to do with that information right now and all he can do is tiredly splash water over his face and allow himself the luxury of brushing his teeth for the first time in days.

It helps him feel the tiniest bit like a human being again, steadying him as he tidies the blood and the bandages. Eddie cleans what he can, bins the rest, and carefully notes what was used against the inventory, hoping this is the last time he’ll need to use the kit on Steve.

Spotting a pack of Wayne’s Winstons by the armchair, he swipes a cigarette, falling onto the couch and lighting it with a click of his plastic lighter. False calm spreads through him as he inhales and exhales, blowing sinuous, serpentine creatures into the air as he contemplates the glowing portal. The gate that had started his beginning with Steve. Created by a madman, forged through blood and bone, and destined to break the world.

He stubs out the cigarette and starts another; what an absolute cluster fuck, he thinks, drained of everything but a sadness and tired anger twining greasily within him, a feeling that has no outlet while everything feels so inevitable.

He thinks about Steve, having to carry the knowledge of the world ending for two years. Knowing that he can save everyone if he sits still, keeps his hard-won oracle knowledge to himself, and resists playing Cassandra by swallowing his secrets.

Eddie should be able to take some modicum of comfort from Steve travelling back in time, but what if more people died than he had let on? What if this fight with Vecna is only in its early throes? It’s March and Steve had only said ‘1986’ — a lot of damage can happen in nine months. He sees Max’s pale face in his mind’s eye; a lot of people can be hurt in that amount of time.

He continues mulling on his what ifs while contemplating the open red gate. As a result, and for the first time, Eddie sees the exact moment that Steve appears, falling beneath it like they all had while travelling between worlds. He drops face-first onto the mattress, bouncing from the impact.

“Jesus Christ, finally,” he moans, turning over with a relieved breath. Eddie watches, eyebrows raised in reluctant amusement at Steve’s gratitude for finally having a soft landing.

“Welcome, sweetheart,” he says from his seat on the couch, smoke curling above his fingers and too tired to work up much excitement. He feels like the week has seeped into his bones, making him heavy and slow.

Steve had been grimly staring up at the portal in their ceiling, a new addition to the last time he’d left, but at Eddie’s words he sits up, wan face settling into hard lines. He shakily stands and Eddie’s concerned to see that he’s forced to use his hands and knees.

Despite his weakness, Steve strides over to the cupboard, one hand on the wall stabilising him while the other throws open the door. He lets the leather bomber jacket fall to the floor with a slithery thud in favour of dragging out the heavy tactical vest he’d first arrived in.

“Hi honey, you’re home,” Eddie says dryly, trying to shake Steve out of his grim determination and take back his attention. Something is riding him and Eddie doesn’t know what to do. Hasn’t for months now, he thinks worriedly as Steve throws the vest into his lap. Eddie grunts at the thud of it against him.

“Take this with you,” Steve says firmly, standing with his arms crossed, “you haven’t fought him yet, have you?”

“Vecna?” Eddie shakes his head. He exhales a plume of smoke rather than reaching out to pull Steve next to him, limbs too weighted and weak against the stubborn resistance he can see etched across Steve’s frame. “We’re planning as we speak. Or at least, we will once we start up again in the morning.”

“Good,” Steve’s jaw clenches, “El is going to call Max any moment now. She's on the run but you guys will work out the battle plan from there. Once it starts, make sure to wear this when you do.”

Exhaustion washes over Eddie, confused at Steve’s demand. No sleep combined with the stress of essentially operating on Steve finally catching up on him and his head rolls back against the back arm of the couch. “Wouldn’t this be a change in the timeline?” he asks slowly but his mouth falls open in shock at Steve’s next words.

“Screw the timeline. I may not have stopped Chrissy and the rest from dying, but I’ll be damned if I don’t save you.”

Eddie stubs out his cigarette, sitting up. “Steve…” he starts to warn, worried that when Steve was healthy and well he had explicitly outlined his intent to not intervene. He’s been sick for a long time and Eddie’s not sure that he can trust his wishes right now.

“No,” Steve interrupts, holding up his palm in an abrupt gesture to stop him, “the timeline is already fucked. I don’t know how or when. To be honest, I’m not even sure how I fully know it, but I do. I’ve changed something already and, if that’s the case, then I’m going to make sure you survive.”

Eddie opens his mouth but Steve slashes his hand through the air, “No arguments.” He stares at Eddie resolutely and, in his expression, he can see that Steve is tired too. Unwell and thin, not looking like the spring of Eddie’s heart, but his eyes are clear and Eddie will always trust him, no matter the time or place.

“No arguments,” Eddie finally agrees and holds out a beckoning hand, “come here, sweetheart.”

Steve sighs, shoulders slumping like he’s finished running a marathon, but he takes Eddie’s hand. Falling heavily onto the couch he runs a considering eye over his stringy hair and general rough appearance from having been on the run, swam through a lake twice, and biked through the Upside Down. “Are you okay?”

“Are you?” he counters, looking at the sweat beading at Steve’s temples. It worries him, but he doesn’t know what to do other than to hold his hand. Whatever is happening to Steve isn’t as easily mended as stitching up jagged skin from demon hell bats, this is an ethereal thing that Eddie can’t see or grasp, and can’t fix either, he thinks with a touch of contempt at his helplessness.

Steve’s eyes harden at Eddie’s question, “I’m not going to let you die,” he repeats.

Eddie thinks, trying to figure out why Steve is so fixed on this. “But you said I don’t, a long time ago, when we were talking about how Robin was going to get taken by the Russians. You were adamant that I survived all this.”

“I still am,” Steve admits, but those two little creases furrow between his brow, giving lie to his conviction. “All I know, is that I need to do something. Something more and this is a part of that.”

Eddie sighs, running his eyes over Steve, trying to tease out the puzzle, because something else is at work here and he doesn’t know what it is, and he’s not sure that Steve has a handle on it either. He nudges the vest to Steve an inch, “Do you think anything will make a difference? You tried to change it before, didn’t you.”

Steve nods, eyes grave, “When I asked you not to bring anyone but the guys here for deals? Yeah. It’s callous, I know, but I thought that at least I could maybe save you from the murder rap if she died elsewhere.” Steve swallows, expression hardening like he expects Eddie to dress him down for not trying to save Chrissy. He squeezes his hand instead, knowing that for Steve the main priority will always be saving the people he loves first, and the world second.

His eyes soften at Eddie’s gesture, asking delicately, “Why did you?”

Eddie sighs at the memory, the compassion of the moment now overshadowed by horror. “She looked so desperate, Stevie. You know what Chrissy was like. She was a fairy queen that deigned to touch Hawkins; innocence without the grating naivety, and she looked so haunted. She wanted something stronger than weed and I didn’t want to make her wait.” Steve squeezes his hand back, remorse strong across his features.

“I thought about you,” Eddie explains, “but honestly, I had in mind roid heads that could bash my head in rather than five-foot-nothing cheerleaders. I just didn’t register her as a threat.”

Steve blows out a breath, falling back against the couch and staring up at the gate. It moves like it has a pulse, a steady unnatural flexing of life that doesn’t belong on Eddie’s ceiling. “Why would you? How could you predict any of this?” He laughs without humour, “Except for having a literal fucking time traveller in your lap who could tell you everything.”

“Hey,” Eddie tugs on his hand reproachfully, “that’s my boyfriend you’re talking about.”

Steve doesn’t delve into the deeper element of what Eddie is talking about, shaking his head. “Yeah, sorry, not worth it. Not the time, either.” Steve checks the clock in the kitchen, “You’re going to have to get going soon. Just promise me, promise, that you’ll wear the vest. It’s strong and thick and it’ll protect you. I just have a feeling and I need you to do this one thing.”

Eddie solemnly nods, seeing that Steve needs him to show that he’s taking his warnings seriously, “I promise.”

“Oh,” Steve adds, “and make sure to tell me to buy one for him or, obviously, there won’t be a vest for you to wear right now.”

Eddie shakes his head ruefully against the convolutedly phrased instruction, already used to rolling with uncertain tenses and pronouns after all this time. “You trying to get rid of me, sweetheart?”

“Eddie,” Steve says warningly.

“Okay, okay. I promise. As long as you promise me back.”

Steve stands, pulling Eddie along and walking him to the door. “I’ll come back to you, baby. I promise. I don’t know how, but I will. You just have to make sure you’re here. Alive and well, waiting for me. My anchor, right?”

Eddie swipes his thumb over Steve’s cheekbone, needing this final reassurance through touch. “Your anchor, springtime boy.”

Steve’s face softens for a second at the endearment before firming again, “I promise I’ll try, but you need to know—”

Dread rapidly blooms through Eddie causing his mouth to fly open before he’s even thought why. “No,” he cuts him off savagely, before repeating more quietly, “no, I don’t want to hear it.”

“Eddie,” Steve grips the back of his nape, stopping Eddie from looking away, stopping him from denying the words he knows that Steve is going to say. “Stop, I need you to know this. I need you to know that whatever fuckery comes with all this time travel that I don’t care. I would do it again and again. If I end up in a time loop and fall back on this carpet in September 1984 once more, having forgotten everything then that is okay. I will loop forever in these two years, happily, because it means that I’ll be spending eternity with you.”

Eddie’s eyes burn and his lips tremble at keeping back the mournful sound that wants to spill from his lips. Steve shakes him gently, eyes desperate for Eddie to understand, “You hear me, Eddie?”

Eddie closes his eyes, swallowing down loop forever and meeting Steve’s intent gaze once more. “I love you too.”

Steve draws him in and for a moment they simply rest against each other. Foreheads touching and breath sharing like an ouroboros of life, in and out, fuelling the other with the essence of their existence and bolstered by their devotion.

Unable to speak without breaking, Eddie nudges Steve with one last affectionate bump and turns without looking back, striding away from the trailer that has always been their refuge, their sanctuary against hardships, and towards the fight waiting for him across the way.

 

 

Chapter 33: The Beginning: Part II

Summary:

Last chapter, a shaky Future Steve made Eddie promise to wear the tactical vest he was wearing when he first landed in '84 before telling Eddie that if he ends up looping back to the first visit then Steve is happy to spend an eternity with him as long as Eddie is alive and okay.

This chapter, the fellowship battles Vecna and Eddie lures the bats away in the Upside Down.

Notes:

                                                                       

one of my most favourite things about writing a time travel fic—and I mean brain-pingingly fun—is weaving in echoes to be enjoyed later or on rereading. (poss. chapter spoiler) so... [tap]

I'm very happy to title this chapter The Beginning: Part II                                                 

Eddie doesn’t know whether it’s because of his advice or not, but Steve does end up buying himself the tactical vest at The War Zone. Along with a familiar brown leather bomber jacket and sturdy combat boots to complement their arsenal.

Outside the RV they had stolen, in the clearing by the forest, they sit scattered in small teams while crafting their weapons. Homemade spears by Lucas and Erica, the shotgun that Nancy saws through with Max avidly watching, and, as Eddie exits the RV, the bin lid he thinks he’ll stud with nails to craft into a shield.

At her seat next to Steve on the lawn chairs they'd found inside, Robin looks between him and Eddie, amused eyes noting their leather jackets and matching vests. She laughs, “Twinsies. Looks like we have an end-of-the-world uniform, boys.”

Steve passes her an emptied vodka bottle and playfully tugs the maroon beret resting on her blonde hair, “At least we don’t look like British Paras. There was a whole war fought to keep you guys off our land, you know.”

Robin fluffs her shoulder-length bob, “You’re just jealous you can’t wear a hat with that square block you call a face.”

Steve scowls, “I can wear hats, they just hide my best asset.”

Eddie snorts and keeps walking, thinking of Steve’s catalogue of his features. There’s his honest eyes and companionable mouth, and since that time in the van on their drive-through date, Steve has often and fondly named all the other parts of Eddie he loves: the brightness of his dimples, the hips he can wrap his big hands around, the dip of his lower back, perfect for the weight of his palm.

The memories of how Steve had shown him his reverential desires would normally have arousal simmering low in his gut, but Eddie is putting all his energy in continuing to move forward. The past few days have dragged out like the worst of marathons and he feels a wry validation of his suspicions in ‘84, convinced that Steve was underplaying the seriousness of the war he’d waged.

Dustin leaps up as he approaches, eagerly taking over his project. After studding the last nail, he holds up the bin lid proudly, “What say you, Eddie the Banished? Are we not prepared for the grand bat-tle?” Eddie snorts tiredly and Dustin’s face falls, “You get it? B-A-T. Bat-tle.”

Dustin looks so despondent at his lack of reaction that Eddie draws on his reserves to rise menacingly, stretching his hands out with curled fingers and a maniacal grin. Dustin steps back uncertainly even as his mouth stretches into a broad smile, “Eddie, what are you doing?”

He flies toward Dustin, crying, “That deserves a pun-ishment.” Dustin runs, ducking and weaving in a zig-zag pattern that Eddie easily catches up to, grabbing him from behind as Dustin shrieks, “No wedgies! No wedgies!” He squirms and yells and Eddie eventually releases him with a breathless laugh, playfulness momentarily banishing his fatigue.

Together they fall onto the grass, splayed out companionably and looking up into the blue sky; the wisp of spring clouds travel slowly above them. Dustin is panting a little, but Eddie is pleased to realise that his jogging has left him with far more endurance. He’s not even a little bit winded.

Lucas breaks the silence between them. Plopping down next to them on the grass he frowns at the cloud in the shape of a duck, “We shouldn’t do this. Max is going to die if we don’t stop the plan, it’s so stupid.”

Eddie sighs, thinking of Steve saying the timeline is already fucked, which means that his oracle knowledge that Max is going to be okay is no longer as rock solid as it once was. “I want to agree, Lucas, but the plan is all we got at this moment.”

“I wish I could take her place,” Lucas mutters. “I know El told us she’s going to piggyback in through Max’s mind to take down Vecna while he’s attacking her, but there’s just so much we don’t know. So many variables that rely on Max being able to avoid Vecna in her head—without the music playing in her ears—and then hoping that El can take him down.”

“El's got her powers back and she’s stronger than before,” Dustin points out, pulling out a clump of grass, “and as long as Max holds out then we’ll have enough time to physically attack him in the Upside Down while he’s busy psychically defending himself. The plan is solid, Lucas.”

“El isn’t even here,” Lucas protests, “she’s all the way in Nevada, and she’s supposed to fight Vecna from that distance? And who says that he’s unable to split his attention? Maybe he’ll wake up enough to send the hivemind creatures after you guys too.”

“That’s why I’ll be playing a bitching concert on top of the trailer in the Upside Down,” Eddie points out, “the bats won’t be able to resist the sound. Dustin and I will keep them away from the Creel house then Steve and the girls will be able to take the bastard down. Dustin’s right, it’s solid.”

Lucas grimaces, but he relents with a heavy sigh, looking up at the duck again. It’s starting to resemble the water stain on Eddie’s living room ceiling before it was absorbed by the gate in his trailer.

Dustin nudges Lucas with his mud-stained shoe, “I believe in the plan, Lucas, because I believe in us. We’ve done this before and we can do it again. The battle is going to be hard and it’s going to be terrifying, but we’re going to win. I promise you.”

Eddie stills, refusing to look away from the slowly dissipating cloud. His heart is in his mouth and the beat is so loud it’s a wonder he can hear anything over it, let alone the boys as Lucas relents, telling Dustin to show him their nail shield. Because Dustin was quoting Steve from that first visit, holding onto his small shoulders and convincing him that he can’t tell the rest of the party about Steve travelling through time.

He thinks of Dustin’s unending optimism and the confidence bordering on obnoxiousness at times and wonders about how much of it stems from a young man coming into himself, growing to understand his strengths and place in the world, and how much of it is being convinced by his fortune told one autumn afternoon.

By a man who now claims to be a false prophet.

It fills his mouth with a coppery fear that doesn’t fade as they set out to act on their plan. The Sinclairs and Max in the right side up at the Creel house, ready to psychically tempt Vecna into Max’s mind. As long as she can keep running from him in her head, then the trap is set and she should be safe. Before they drive away, Nancy sternly reminds the whole group once more: nobody deviates from the plan, no matter what.

All too soon, in the Upside Down and by Eddie's doppelganger trailer, Steve, Nancy, and Robin depart, walking away to fight Vecna with a gun, an axe, and blazing fire.

Eddie exchanges a heavy glance with Steve before he leaves, but neither of them say anything, perhaps too full of the understanding of how important this battle is in their war, and Eddie can only swallow around the too-revealing words that want to pour out, anything to convince Steve he needs to fight that little bit harder, to survive and come back to him.

They barricade the trailer against the onslaught of bats they hope to lure to them, hook up Eddie’s red Warlock and amp to the generator they’d carefully pushed through the gate, and wait for the signal.

It comes. One long static burst followed by Nancy's voice over the walkie: “Dustin, you’re up.”

Eddie takes a steadying breath as he stands planted atop the trailer, looking out across the skies that flash crimson lightning and begins an opening riff that is precise and full of weight before falling into the thunderous cascade that is The Sentinel.

The plan goes great, until it doesn’t. The roar of Judas Priest lures the horde of bats, a descending legion that blacks out the sky and has Eddie hurriedly dropping his guitar to join Dustin inside, behind locked doors. The mass of unnatural creatures swarm the outside, screaming as they try to find their way to the meat inside, rocking the trailer walls with the force of their fury.

They listen to the cacophony warily and just as Eddie thinks that they’ve done it, they’ve distracted the bats away from their guard at the Creel house while safely hidden in their refuge, a sharp metallic screech sounds. A roaring, fanged head breaks through a vent.

Panicked, Eddie reflexively shoves the shield at it, blocking its entry and wounding it with the nails if its cries are anything to go by, but Eddie can feel it bucking the metal and he pushes Dustin forward.

“Go,” he shouts, “we need to get back to the other side.”

Dustin nods, scrambling up the rope as Eddie bolsters him from below. He’s a hair's breadth away from following when he realises the rocking of the trailer walls is starting to falter. Denied access to their meat and with no sound to anger them, the bats are losing interest.

Eddie swallows around his dry mouth; if they’re leaving, then there’s only one place they’d retreat to, and he’ll be damned if he’ll let them snack on Steve again. He looks up at the gate and, through it, Dustin’s face twists in alarm as Eddie smiles gently. Apologetically. Hoping that this won’t be the last time he ever sees the pipsqueak.

“Never change, Henderson,” he calls out before cutting the rope to ensure that the little butthead can’t do something stupid like follow after him.

“No!” Dustin screams at Eddie’s retreating back.

He blocks the front door in case Dustin makes it through somehow and charges towards the bike left in his front yard. Eddie turns, some of the bats have seen him, eyeing his body in interest but it’s too little. He screams with all his might, “Come get me you fuckers!”

The hoard swivels as if with one mind and panic shoots like white lightning down his spine.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck,” he mutters as he swings onto the bike and pedals as fast as he can, the sound of heavy wings and screeching fury following him. He makes it just beyond the trailer park before one of the bats knocks him off the bike. He doesn’t hesitate, rolling to his feet and pumping his legs even while he screams to keep their focus fixed on him.

The swarm hunt him like an invading horde and he can feel the scant inches that separate him from their vicious, screaming fangs but he runs with every second, minute and hour of exercise that’s fuelled his promise to Coach Harbour all year round. Adrenaline giving his feet wings and long practice keeping his lungs pumping. He runs. Long and he runs far, his chest is heaving and he’s almost to the Hillside playground by the time the next bat clips him: he falls. Skidding heavily into the unnatural dirt and forcibly spun over as another bat rams into him.

He rolls with the motion, channelling every athletic move he’s ever seen Steve do and manages a little further until one bat dives at his legs and another lashes his ankle with its whip-like tail, pulling him down.

His spear is useless, long since dropped and he has no defence against them as they chomp into his thighs and another pierces just below his neck, but his torso is safe. The few that tried to rip into the soft meat of his belly hiss in frustration as their teeth strike the unyielding armour inserted into the plate carriers of his tactical vest.

An approaching mass hones in on his face, diving down at Eddie who throws his hands up even as he acknowledges that this is the end. But if he distracted the vicious monsters long enough to save Steve and Max then this has been worth it. His life in exchange for those precious to him. Hell, in exchange for the world. Death is more than what Eddie Munson is willing to pay for the survival of his loved ones.

But the attack never comes. Eddie remains untouched as a cascade of thuds sound around him. He peeks through his fingers: over him and across the ground is a long expanse of dead and fallen bats, not one of them even so much as twitching.

He’s still concentrating on his breathing when he hears the approaching thumps against the packed dirt. The disbelief that he’d made it only starts to fade as Dustin drags himself closer to the playground, limping but with a spear in his hand as a makeshift walking stick and determinedly advancing on Eddie’s lax body.

“You son of a bitch,” Dustin rages, “how fucking dare you leave me behind.”

He stares up at the pipsqueak, able to see right up his nose and starts laughing. He made it. Eddie’s fucking alive and being balled out by a freshman wearing fake military tags. “Life is fucking good,” he giggles.

Dustin only scowls and Eddie lets his fizzing humour fade into quiet relief. He sits up with a beckoning gesture at the kid's camo jacket, “Give me the shirt underneath that, I’ll need something to tie up the bites on my leg.”

Between the two of them, they stem the worst of the blood and make their way to the trailer, supporting each other around the arms and finally collapsing onto the front step.

They stop, catching their breath and refuse to acknowledge the fear that they don’t know how the others have done. Who has survived.

Dustin digs a groove into the dirt with the end of his spear and it’s just become more of a hole than a gouge when they hear the excited laughter of Steve, Robin, and Nancy as they walk through the trailer park.

All three of them are beaming and their smiles only become wider as they see Eddie and Dustin waiting for them.

“The others made it,” Nancy says immediately, innately understanding the concerns that simmer through them. Eddie and Dustin look at each other, twin expressions of relief falling over their faces.

Eddie shifts and Robin gets a good look at his thigh and neck. She turns away gagging. “How am I getting worse at this,” she moans, “I can’t even see your skin and—” She gags as Steve gently pushes Eddie back down and examines underneath the bandages.

He looks up at Eddie, “Just had to try and outdo me, didn’t you, Munson?”

Eddie shrugs playfully, unable to hold onto his concern knowing that they had all gotten out of this alive and okay. “You can patch me up this time, big boy.”

Steve laughs ruefully and pulls Eddie up to stand, being mindful not to make him tear any more than he already has. Robin hurriedly walks past, following Dustin as they retreat to the trailer.

Steve opens his mouth to retort but his expression blanks in a familiar way and Eddie’s stomach drops: he shouldn’t look like this, Steve doesn’t start going absent and unknowing until his eighth visit.

Abruptly, Steve blinks and shakes his head, he smiles at Eddie like no time has passed, “Come on, let’s get out of here before some other prick decides he needs to become a supernatural serial killer.”

Eddie swallows down his alarm, “You got him good, then?” Steve guides him with a hand to his lower back, “Dead and black ash. Ding dong the fucker is gone — Erica got through to us from the other side too, Max is doing fine and El reports that she got him with her psychic attack.”

“It’s over,” Eddie breathes around the dizzy triumph that they've won. Steve nods knowingly, moving past him to get into position for Robin. Nancy having left nothing to chance this time has already climbed the rope after propping up Dustin.

Robin playfully nudges Eddie out of the way with a wink, “Beauty before age.”

He grins and bows her ahead. When it’s Eddie’s turn, Steve helps push him up; his torn skin cries out in pain but it’s nothing against the knowledge that they have survived. What are minor injuries to actual living, breathing life?

Eddie’s is at the top when his giddiness becomes muddled and for a moment his head goes light and his torso feels wet. Looking down, he almost expects to see blood seeping through his vest somehow, but he’s fine. The vest remains intact. Eddie shakes it off and pushes upwards, reaching through the gate and falling onto his back.

The confused feeling returns as he lays on the mattress and his vision wavers: the pulsing membrane warping into crimson lightning in the Upside Down skies while tasting thick coppery blood on his tongue. His sides are an open, throbbing pain and he feels that wet sensation again. But then Nancy instructs them to move and the feeling disappears, giddiness returning: they made it, they all made it out alive and Vecna is fucking toast.

Eddie grins up at Robin, “We’re superheroes.”

She grins back, settling him against the couch with a grunt, “Damn straight.” Their high five is a bit wobbly, but it’ll do; almost in unison, they look up to see Steve dithering with the rope on the other side, still tugging on it with a distracted look.

“Hey dingus,” she yells, “get a move on.”

Steve’s head snaps up sharply at Robin’s voice, surprise rippling across his face before he grins. Taking a running jump, he flies up the linen rope, hand over hand until he’s an inch from the gate. Dread blooms in Eddie’s stomach with the sudden conviction that this is the moment, this is the action that sends Steve back in time.

Steve looks through the broken membrane once more and Eddie swears that he meets his eyes before grinning, a familiar look of love and devotion shimmering in them before he stretches, falling up through the unnatural breach between worlds, but not landing on the other side.

Eddie swallows around the nausea thick in his throat because the mattress next to him remains empty and the linen rope in the Upside Down swings like a metronome with Steve’s body no longer clinging to it.

Robin and Nancy falter, calling for Steve as if he’d simply dropped the rope and rolled out of sight, but Dustin’s eyes widen fearfully and his head snaps to Eddie, looking for confirmation about a long-ago visit in the fall of 1984. Eddie refuses to meet his gaze, glaring at the pulsing crimson of the wide maw that started all this.

The girls start to plan a rescue mission for a man no longer there and Eddie realises that he needs to nip this in the bud, that it’s finally time to speak.

“Steve’s gone,” he interrupts them, scrubbing his hand down the filth covering his face; it’s been nearly two years, and he is tired of watching the man he loves disappear.

The smell of the ash from the Upside Down and the blood of his injuries smear in a nauseating mix. “He’s gone back in time.” At Robin’s small, broken sound, Eddie clarifies, like it’ll make a difference, “He’s gone back to me.”

Exhaustion yawns through him, widening into a chasm with waves following close behind, ready to drown him in a tsunami of emotions: relief that he finally knows the moment that Steve first blips away, fear that something may have changed and he’s not safely on Eddie’s trailer floor right now, dread that this will be the last time he ever sees him again. His head falls into his open palms, overwhelmed, while pressing hard against his eyes to shake himself out of his turbulent feelings.

“What the hell do you mean, Eddie? Eddie!” Robin grabs him by the collar, forcing him to look up and meet her angry gaze, and he realises that she’s been calling his name while he’d been trying to take back control.

He catches Dustin’s gaze, the abyss inside convincing him that any words he tries to say will be lost in a whisper before it has a chance to become an echo. He stares despondently, silently asking for help. Understanding clicks in Dustin’s eyes and he lets out a soft sound, “Oh. He never left Hawkins, did he? He stayed with you.”

Eddie nods in defeat and Robin rattles him by the collar again; he winces as the bite at the base of his neck moves, dampening the makeshift bandage.

“You’re not making sense. Tell me where the fuck Steve is right now, Munson, or I swear to God, I’m going to gut you and feed you your intestines until you’re shitting them out again. What happened to Steve?”

Dustin reaches out and drags her away before she can do him any further damage, “No! No, Robin, it’s not his fault. Steve’s travelled back in time; he went back to 1984.”

Robin shakes him off, pacing away as she spears her fingers through her ash-covered hair. The motion is so much like Steve’s own nervous habit that it has Eddie’s eyes burning.

“And how,” she says darkly to Dustin, “do you know this? Eddie seems like he’s gone bye-bye right now, but you are suspiciously well-informed.”

“It’s not his fault,” Eddie whispers, unable to allow Dustin to take the blame for events he’s had little to do with. Robin glares at him briefly before turning expectantly back to Dustin.

“A couple of years ago, Steve turned up at my door with Eddie,” Dustin begins.

“They knew each other before spring break?” Nancy frowns doubtfully like she finds it hard to reconcile the image of metal Eddie Munson with the preppy boy she’s known for years.

“It wasn’t just that. This was nearly a year after we got Will back, but before the tunnels at Halloween, when he helped us fight Billy off. I only recognised him by sight, but he knew about Code Red and he’d helped Jonathon with the demogorgon so I invited them in. He told me this unreal story about how he’d travelled back through time and that he needed to get back through the—” Dustin cuts off, looking between Eddie and the broken membrane. “He called it a gate and said it was at Eddie’s.”

Robin pales, “No.” She shakes her head resolutely, “No, what you’re saying is nuts and makes no sense. How come he didn’t come and tell me? Even if I didn’t know him then I would have helped. He knows that.” She glares at Eddie, “What did you do?”

“It was me warning him against stepping on the butterfly, wasn’t it?” Dustin says, clenching his spear as if he’s lost his footing. He looks struck clean through by the realisation, their past conversations clearly running through his mind as he shifts and catalogues other interactions. “But he was just going to keep out of everyone’s way, maybe get out of Hawkins. We just have to call him, right Eddie? Tell him it’s okay to come out of hiding now?”

Eddie looks away from the hope shining in Dustin’s eyes, seeing Steve everywhere. Eyes snagging on the armchair that had become almost a second home in that last month, napping as his awareness of time and place slowly disintegrated. His sinuses burn and he bites on his lip to keep from crying, but the tears start to roll down his cheeks anyway.

“Eddie,” Robin says in a broken whisper.

He tilts his head up. The fight has drained out of her now and she looks at him with desperation writ plain across her face, etched into grooves that weren’t present even as they fought Vecna. “Tell me he’s here. Somewhere that I can reach him; anywhere, but just that he is here.”

He shakes his head, rolling his lips from the cries that want to pour out of them. Pinching the thin skin on his hand, hard, Eddie clears his throat until he’s finally able to say roughly, “No, he kept blipping in and out of time, there one minute and then he’d disappear. A month or so would go by and then he’d reappear again.”

He looks at the mattress; finally, a soft landing and Steve nowhere to be found. Robin follows his gaze but doesn’t say anything, jaw clenching but waiting.

Eddie swallows down the fresh tears, trying to be strong for Robin and Dustin. He knows that Steve would hate to see them so lost and upset. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, but we didn’t know. We hoped. Christ, I hoped so bad because he was travelling forward. It makes sense, right?”

He turns wildly to Dustin, hair flying around his face at its force. “If he’s going forward it means that he just needs to appear one more time and he’ll be in the proper timeline. That’s what I told him.”

His head drops heavily into his palms again, thinking of his desperate conviction that Steve only needed to last past this moment. He pushes into his eye sockets, trying to punish the soft pieces of himself. “I don’t know if he’s stuck in a fucking time loop and flipping back to the beginning again or whether he’s just disappeared for good.”

He swings up, glaring at the red gate with all the loathing that the bitter beast inside can muster, “But he better come through that thing again or I’m going to fucking murder him.”

While he spoke, Robin’s hands had risen to clasp over her mouth, as if to hold back her horror.

Nancy hesitates, clenching her hands and looking like she’s trying to hastily gather her thoughts. But at this uncanny event, an ethereal thing that she cannot touch or direct or investigate, she stands mute.

A once-lost maturity falls over Dustin’s face, one that Eddie only saw as the younger version of this boy promised Steve to never tell his time travel secret. “We need more information, and we need to get Eddie to the hospital; he has to get help first and then we’ll figure out how to get Steve back.”

Nancy stiltedly nods, “I’ll call Mom, she can pick us up.”

“Is that safe?” Dustin asks frowning, “she could call the cops on Eddie.”

“They’re going to call them as soon as we turn up at the hospital anyway, but I won’t say anything until she’s pulling up.”

Nancy’s lips purse and she starts to look more in control now that she has a solid, real-life problem to solve. “We’re going to have to come up with a story, some way of corroborating that Eddie is a victim in this too.”

Robin’s taken to staring up at the gate like she can make it tell her all its secrets, but at Nancy’s words, she glances over distractedly. “Lean into the serial killer theory and pin it on Henry as Creel’s son. We’ll get that doctor guy from the government…” She snaps her fingers, trying to pull up the memory.

“Dr Owens?” Dustin supplies.

“I have his number,” Nancy says, like having access to a top secret agent is a normal thing. Eddie thinks Steve would’ve smiled affectionately at Nancy right now, amused and fond at her consistency in being a badass reporter, the first with the scoop and fingers in all pies.

“Yeah, him,” Robin grimly nods, “we’ll get him to put out the official story that Henry kidnapped Eddie after killing Chrissy. Jason’s the only witness to Eddie being there when Patrick died and, from what the kids observed, it sounds like he’s not firing on all cylinders anyway. With the government behind us, it shouldn’t be too hard to make the story stick.”

Nancy moves towards the phone hanging on the wall, “We’ll say that he helped us escape, saved the kids or something. By the end of this, he’ll be the hero of goddamn Hawkins.” Her face settles into determined lines as she dials her mother. Eddie can hear her talking quietly before Robin speaks.

“I’m not leaving here,” Robin says mulishly, jaw set as she glances back at the ceiling. “If that is the reason why he disappeared, it could bring him back at any moment.”

The crimson membrane pulses and Dustin winces, “I don’t think you should stay here alone, the bats died but we don’t know if that was all of them, not to mention the demogorgons and maybe even the demo-dogs. They could come through in the blink of an eye.”

Robin crosses her arms and sits resolutely next to Eddie, the couch dips him towards her for a moment. She stubbornly turns to him, “You understand. He shouldn’t arrive to an empty trailer.”

She gestures to the mattress and the general debris that was created after trampling in and out of the place, “Especially after all this.”

Eddie sighs, hesitantly taking her hand and thinking she might reject it but hoping the contact may help to convince her of his sincerity. She doesn’t pull away. “Steve wouldn’t want you here.”

Her jaw clenches and she averts her eyes to the mattress.

Eddie pleads with her because he doesn’t know what he’ll say to Steve if she gets hurt on his watch, “You know it’s true.” Robin’s face twists as if she’d deny his next words. “If he was here, he might allow it as long as he had his nail bat and could guard your back, but he’s not and you’re going to be alone and vulnerable to monsters if you stay.”

Defeated, she sighs in surrender and falls back against the cushions. Eyeing him, he can see the suspicion in them waning before she jerks her chin at his neck, “I’m sorry, for getting up in your face back there.”

He leans back next to her, their shoulders nearly touching. “I get it.”

“I think I hear a car,” Dustin says, peering through as he cracks open the door.

Eddie and Robin stare up at the gate as Nancy walks out to greet her mother and explain the situation. “I’m really afraid,” Robin whispers.

“Me too,” Eddie says softly back.

 

 

 

Notes:

very, *very* early into writing this my partner was listening to me talk about Steve's first visit with Dustin and they were like 'oh, so that's why he's always so confident that they'll win.' it hadn't occurred to me before then but became such a guide for how I wrote Dustin. so this chapter is for them 💋

Chapter 34: The Fierce Protector

Summary:

Last chapter, after Vecna was defeated, Steve disappeared through the Upside Down gate, and Eddie and Dustin explained to an angry and scared Robin that he has gone back in time.

This chapter, El seals the gate in Eddie's trailer to his and Robin's dismay while Robin reveals why she's always been wary of Eddie.

As Eddie finds it often does when Steve leaves through a blip, time moves unconscionably fast while dipping in and out of moments syrupy slow.

With wide eyes and a tight, disapproving purse of her lips that her daughter obviously inherited, Mrs Wheeler drives them to the hospital. It’s the dead of the night and the harsh fluorescents are shocking to their eyes, but the quiet is likely the reason that the group’s appearance doesn’t cause too great a stir.

Dustin disappears briefly with Mrs Wheeler sticking to him in lieu of his own mother, making sure that his leg is properly taken care of. Eddie breathes a sigh of relief when he finds out that it’s only badly sprained, not broken. He is both surprised and yet somehow not when Nancy and Robin refuse to leave his side, staying nearby even as Chief Powell cuffs a flagging Eddie to the bedrails that he sits at.

Catherine is on shift and, despite working in a completely different ward, she worms her way into Eddie’s room to be the one taking care of his demo-bat injuries. She murmurs to him as Callahan strides out of the room, trying to head off any reporters that may have heard about his appearance on the PD radio frequency, “Wayne told me about what’s been going on — with Steve.”

Eddie’s mouth slackens; he’s been living with keeping Steve’s secret tightly held to his chest for so long that the idea of Wayne just up and sharing it causes shock to jolt through him. He thinks that Catherine understands his expression because she eyes him contemplatively before inserting the needle of anaesthetic around his leg wound. A familiar array of tapered needles and silk threads lay nearby.

“The bad event that was going to happen, happened, didn’t it? And Wayne needed someone with him while you were missing,” Catherine says in a measured tone.

Eddie feels his face fall, “I didn’t mean to leave him with…” He can’t say Chrissy’s body, the memory of her broken limbs and distorted jaw still simmering sharply at the back of his mind.

She looks over her shoulder at Nancy and Robin talking quietly in the corner, “It sounded terrible. Wayne was… well, he wasn’t all right. But don’t you think for one minute that he blamed you, okay, Eds? Whatever happened we know that it wasn’t your fault.” Eddie jerkily nods, screwing up his mouth so he doesn’t let loose the tears filling his eyes.

“Thanks,” he raggedly whispers.

Catherine must have called Wayne as soon as she heard because he strides through the door not shortly after, pulling Eddie so tightly into his arms that he feels his ribs creak, “I thought I lost you,” he breathes. His uncle looks like he’s aged ten years in the week that has gone past. “Are you okay?” His eyes run over Eddie, clad only in his plaid red boxers with brilliant white patches taped against his neck and thighs.

Eddie nods, eyes watery once more and feeling like a leaky faucet. Taking in his expression, Wayne hugs him again and Eddie takes a steadying breath of familiar cologne and Winston cigarettes.

“What about Steve?” Wayne quietly murmurs into his ear.

Drawing back, Eddie gestures to Robin and Nancy who had approached while they had their moment. “He’s still blipped out, but it’s okay, they know about him. They’re friends of his actually; this is Nancy and Robin.”

Wayne’s eyebrows fly up and he holds out his hand to shake theirs, “So you’re the Robin we’ve heard so much about; I hear you’re a polyglot.”

Robin laughs nervously, turning an uncertain look to Nancy before saying, “Uh, yeah. I mean, yes, sir.”

“Just Wayne is fine,” he says and Nancy takes his hand too.

“You took in Steve after he travelled back?” she asks curiously and at Wayne’s nod she visibly softens, “thank you, I’m glad he had somewhere safe to stay.”

Wayne brusquely nods again, uncomfortable with a stranger’s gratitude, “And what about his parents? Do they know?” He glances around like Monty and Laura Harrington are going to magically appear in the hospital corner. Robin and Eddie scoff simultaneously; startled, they stare at each other for a long second before looking away.

Nancy explains that they’re waiting to call until they know more about Steve, but Eddie can see the subtle scepticism across Wayne’s face. Knowing that while Steve generally avoided talking about his family to Wayne, his uncle is well versed in reading between the lines of a kid explaining away their parents’ actions.

Eddie contemplates Robin’s profile and considers that he’s not sure exactly where he stands with Steve’s best friend. He understands that the bond between the two of them isn’t a light one, having been forged through torture and forced truths on a bathroom floor, but he also knows that Steve would want him to try and reach out to her.

And the fact is, he muses as Wayne heads out to talk to Callahan, that despite the terrible yawning feeling within that wants to name itself grief—even as he refuses to acknowledge it—he’s had a lot longer to deal with this situation that’s so new to everyone else.

When his mother had died suddenly, the shock had been debilitating and froze him in place, powerfully striking him with feelings that he didn’t yet know how to handle. His grandmother had been a soft sadness in comparison, the months of her fading away allowing him to control the grief.

He thinks that all things considered, he’s just grateful that Robin still looks ready to brawl, ready to take on the world and drag Steve back to her by hell or high water.

Surprisingly, Callahan eventually confirms that Eddie had remained only a person of interest while the police scrambled to find out who was suddenly killing the teens of Hawkins. Jason had been considered an unreliable witness after citing the devil as responsible for Patrick’s death and, Eddie is shocked to hear, Coach Harbour and Andy McLaughlin had spoken up on Eddie’s defence at the town hall meeting, helping to simmer down tensions.

Eddie’s so tired that he’s swaying in his seat as Nancy and Robin weave their tale of Henry Creel, serial killer, who had kidnapped Eddie and targeted them as well as Dustin. They leave out Max, Lucas and Erica to reduce the complexities of their half-truths and outright lies.

Callahan’s face is set in the sceptical mien that Eddie thinks is second nature to all cops, inherited along with their badge and gun, but he takes them seriously and releases Eddie into his uncle’s custody for now.

By the time they head back to Forrest Hills, Eddie’s so wiped out that he barely registers Wayne steering him into Catherine’s trailer.

“We’ll stay here until whatever that thing is in the living room is taken care of; Catherine said it’s all right that you take the couch.”

Eddie collapses onto it, not even caring that he has a week’s worth of grime and blood on him. Although Wayne hastily pulls him up to throw a sheet underneath in respect for Catherine’s furniture.

He falls backwards, feeling as thinly stretched out as a rubber band, ready to snap at the slightest pressure. Wayne gently covers him with a blanket and turns off the light. He’s walking away when the fear of being alone strikes through Eddie like a bolt. Every time he’s been left solo for the past week someone has died violently in front of him.

“Wayne,” he croaks out and his uncle returns, worry set on his features. “Stay? Just until I fall asleep, please?” Wayne’s face is sad as he nods and he drags over a chair from Catherine’s kitchen set, “Just rest, Eds. I’m here, you’re okay now.”

Eddie draws in a steadying breath and closes his eyes, lulled to sleep by the sound of Wayne settling into his seat and the warmth of his hand as it rests loosely on Eddie’s ankle. Like a tether to the world.

 

---

 

A week flies by of police interviews and government inspections, but Henry Creel is officially named as the Spring Break Murderer and Eddie feels like he can walk the streets without facing a lynch mob. Miss Kelly already has him booked in for an appointment to ease him back into school, but Eddie suspects that a quick meeting isn’t going to do shit to help with the leftover terror from his week of hell. He’s sleeping and eating and resting, but he still feels strung out from what he’d witnessed.

Robin had sat with him outside the Hawkins PD interview rooms, the hard plastic digging into his backside, watching him as his fingers jittered across his knees and played with his rings. She’d eyed the heavy bags under his eyes and said, “It gets better.”

He didn’t pretend to not know what she was talking about, “Every time I close my eyes I see Chrissy and every sound at night is Vecna coming to kill me.”

She pursed her lips, “I can’t watch Red Dawn. And when that Rocky sequel—the one with the Russian—came out last year, I made Steve handle anyone borrowing it.”

“That must’ve been hard since you literally work at a video store,” Eddie had said, contemplating the girl in front of him, a survivor of supernatural and man-made terrors. Steve had always skipped over describing the worst of what happened at Starcourt, but Eddie could tell by his silence sometimes that it’s never left him.

She scoffs at the obliviousness of their supervisor, “Not that Keith knows, but any hint of Russians in a film is banned from playing on the display at work.”

She nudges her Converses against the linoleum floor thoughtfully. Signs are drawn against the cream canvas with black and pink markers: a peace sign on the outside, a double Venus symbol at the heel, and what Eddie thinks is an ice cream cone with two scoops over the tip of her toes.

“Steve helped. He always does, but we’d sleep over whenever it got too loud, like in my head.”

Eddie nodded, he knows that feeling and how unfair it is to be unable to escape something that your brain literally has control over. “He said that he always slept better with you there.”

A small smile tugged at the corners of her mouth, but all she’d said was, “It’ll get better and you’re not alone.” Her encouragement had caused a grateful lump in his throat to build.

Today, Eddie’s heart is in his throat for another reason as he watches El, the super-powered girl that Steve had mentioned during spring break, close the gate in their trailer. Just a slight thing with shorn hair making her look smaller, she somehow wields the power to close the broken membrane that allowed them to travel between worlds.

Dr Owens stands next to her, a sensibly neat man in a tidy sweater and wearing a genial smile, “There. That’s better, now.” He turns to Wayne and the rest of the fellowship, all of the kids plus the California crew having piled in along with Robin and Nancy.

Some of them hang through the open doorframe to give El space as she works her magic. Or superpowers based on science, Eddie’s unsure; he just recognises that he doesn’t like how they’re sealing away the one thing they know is connected to Steve’s disappearance.

“I don’t like this,” Robin says and Dustin nods grimly next to her.

El lowers her outstretched palm; the crimson maw is gone, leaving only a jagged plaster split in the ceiling. Eddie absently notes that at least they won’t have to pay to fix the entire thing since the rupture hadn’t broken through the roof. “I’m sorry, Robin, but I do not think that Steve will come through it again either way. It is just a normal gate.”

Max shifts next to her, “We’re not blaming you, El.”

“And we need to make sure that no creatures can come back through it,” Owens says in a measured tone. “As much as we want to help Mr Harrington, we weren’t able to detect anything different about this gate compared to the others, and we need to operate on the side of caution.”

“But the monsters are gone,” El says quizzically.

Eddie hears Mike squawk in confusion by the front door but everyone ignores him as they ask El to expand on what she meant.

El starts carefully, tasting her words before saying, “Henry was alone for a long time and he became very lonely.” She tilts her head sadly, “I think he was always lonely. And the world provided him with the demogorgon and its babies so he would have a family.”

“You’re saying that the Upside Down manifested monsters that tried to eat us because Vecna needed company,” Lucas says dubiously, swinging his leg on the kitchen stool.

Nancy meets Robin’s eyes and Eddie knows that they’re thinking this confirms their theory: the Upside Down had manifested the monsters for Henry just as it had created the doppelganger Hawkins for Will; both had separate purposes and were composed and expressed in ways that reflected that.

“I did not say he was right to do it,” El says reprovingly.

Max snorts, “Yeah, Lucas, how dare you suggest that Vecna had a heart.”

“Yeah, well, we stabbed it pretty good, didn’t we.”

A few laugh and Eddie wonders whether some of them remember Steve acting dumb, pretending he thought Vecna was a vampire.

There’s a rustling outside and those in the doorframe shift back for Chief Hopper to limp through the door. El immediately walks over to him, taking his hand in hers. Eddie had heard that he was back, presumed dead at Starcourt but actually abducted by Russians and escaping with the help of Mrs Byers. It is an outlandish tale that he is only able to believe because his own is just as incredible.

But seeing Hopper in person lets a hard knot unravel in Eddie’s chest, causing him to sigh in heartfelt release, “Steve’s going to be so relieved he didn’t ‘let’ you die too.”

Silence falls around them; Dustin’s eyes widen and Nancy hangs her head.

“He didn’t let anyone die,” Robin says fiercely, glaring around the room like she’s challenging anyone to say differently.

“I know,” Eddie says just as strongly back. Her shoulders slump and she leans in closer to Nancy, who takes her hand.

Wayne looks at Eddie sadly before turning to shake Hopper’s in greeting, breaking the awkward atmosphere, “It’s good to see you alive and kicking, Hop. I heard you kicked some Ruskie ass.”

Hopper’s already drawn face tightens, “And I heard about Steve, but why would he think he was responsible for me dying?”

Dustin looks sick as he explains the butterfly theory, based on the short fictional story stored in his bedroom bookshelf, and Eddie explains Steve’s motivation for refusing to save anyone he already knew would die, looking around at the room of people he had sacrificed his honour for to ensure that they would survive once again.

Nancy purses her lips, “Nobody deviates from the plan, no matter what. That’s what I said, remember? When we left to fight Vecna. That we had to keep on the agreed path if we had any chance of defeating him.”

Eddie sighs, leaning against the wall and feeling the weight of Steve’s continued choice to follow those directions, “Yeah, that would have helped cement it in his head.”

Hopper runs his palm over his shaved hair, “He was right to do it. From what I understand, Henry was going to split the world in half and, this way, Steve knew he could guarantee that you’d all be safe in the end. I would have made the same choice.”

“That’s all well and good,” Wayne interrupts gravely, “but how do we get Steve back?”

Eddie’s heart sinks at Owens’ sigh, “And that is a great question that I’m not even sure of how to start answering. Like I said, the scans we made of the gates that Henry made are no different than the ones created by the Lab.”

He nods at Eddie, “I’ve inspected both Mr Munsons since you had the most interaction with Mr Harrington as he ‘blipped’ through time and neither of you have anything unusual in your results either. Although Eddie, you do have a slightly overactive hippocampus, which is only of note because it’s where we consolidate short-term memories into long-term memories.”

“And what does that tell us,” Nancy asks pointedly.

Eddie frowns at Owens as he ruefully shrugs his shoulders, vehemently disliking such a vague answer from a scientist who has spent years studying the Upside Down. Anger starts to lick at him as the pleasantly nonchalant expression on his face doesn’t alter at their questions.

“That time travel has never been studied—at least, to my knowledge—and we are in an unknown territory.”

Robin meets Eddie’s eyes from across the room and he nods in agreement as she rolls her eyes, injustice stirring the beast inside.

“So, we wait?” Eddie harshly demands, irritated that the only solution offered is the same one that he’d thought of months ago, ignorant of the science and magic of this world yet still no better than the experts.

“I don’t want to wait,” he bristles, anger rising at Owen’s sympathetic grimace.

“I’ve been fucking waiting for nearly two years to see whether Steve would come out on the other side of this, and we’ve finally passed the juncture that he went back. We’ve finally reached the point where I can tell all of you people.” He gestures furiously at those gathered in the trailer, “You’re the clever ones, you’re the geniuses in Steve’s back pocket, why don’t you have something more than wait and see.”

He glares at the shocked faces of the kids and at the concerned look that Hop and Wayne share. The frustration of it all boils over and he decides he needs to get out of the enclosed space before he says something he regrets. He pushes past Mike, Jonathon and the other guy who he hadn’t caught the name of yet and stomps out towards the line where the trailer park marks the woods.

He’s shaken off some of the rage seething in his gut by the time Robin finds him, slowly pacing from one maple tree to a birch a few yards away from it. He keeps flicking his fingers, hoping to shake off the angry energy that has nowhere to go.

Robin eyes his march as she pulls a vibrant green leaf off from a low-hanging branch, spring is in full bloom and she has plenty of foliage to choose from. “You know, he’s not made for casual relationships.”

Eddie stops pacing, surprised out of his foul mood by the non-sequitur. “Steve?”

“Steve,” she confirms, twisting it between her fingers thoughtfully. “Did he tell you about Indy?” Robin's eyes are careful as she obliquely references the months of her and Steve dancing and playing and finding their people, discovering their place in the world as queer teenagers from small-town America.

Eddie frowns as he tries to work out where she’s going with this, “Just that he hadn’t been a chaste choir boy, but I had the feeling that he didn’t want to tell me every detail in case I thought he was promiscuous or something.”

She huffs out a laugh, the sun rippling through the canopy highlighting the affection on her face, “Yeah, he’s more action than thought sometimes.”

“It’s not a bad thing,” Eddie points out, hesitating for a moment before deciding to speak since she’s clearly figured out that he and Steve are more than just friends, “while I was getting all up in my head about whether I could even tell anyone I was gay, Steve was out there working out who he is. I admire that, I admire him.”

The cautiousness in Robin’s eyes softens. She throws the twisted leaf to the forest ground as she turns to him more fully, “Yeah, but you didn’t see him then either. He’d be all into it, happy with the sex or whatever, until he’d be lonely afterwards. He’s not made for fleeting connections; he needs someone who’s his and no one else’s.”

She pauses before admitting to her own vulnerabilities, “It made me sad to see him sad.”

“Did you say anything to him?” Eddie steps forward curiously.

Waggling her head she says, “Sort of? He was also dealing with the sort of shit from people who think that being anything but strictly straight or strictly gay means that you’re either afraid to take a side or that you’re just a slut.”

Heart sinking at the ugly word, Eddie can’t help but imagine the hurt Steve must have endured, having finally felt like that he found his place in the world only to be met by prejudice anyway. “He never said.”

“He wouldn’t,” she observes.

“No, he’s always afraid of being too much, isn’t he,” Eddie sighs for the weights that drag heavy at his springtime boy, but Robin’s lips tug up approvingly.

“It wasn’t for long,” she leans in and nudges him, smile turning conspiratorial, “I practically tore Danny’s stupid mullet out when he last suggested it to Steve.

"Snide fucker,” she mutters, and Eddie feels fondness rise in him for Steve’s fierce protector.

“You know, I liked you before I even knew you,” Eddie confesses.

Robin’s eyebrows fly up in surprise and she steps back while pushing her hands into her pockets, “What? From band or something?”

“No,” Eddie shakes his head, amused at the assumption that he would have had to meet her first to feel this way, “Steve talks about you all the time. You’re his best friend.”

“Platonic soulmate,” she says smugly, edging her elbows out like she’s taking a bow.

“Exactly. Bonded through your own weird little hivemind, from what I could tell.” Robin’s smile had broadened, but it drops at his next words. “I’d see Past Steve around school or town sometimes, and I knew from what little I’d been able to tease out of him that he was probably alone and lonely.”

She grimaces in dislike, “He really got the short end of the stick once he decided to tell Tommy and the rest of those sycophants to fuck off. And he didn’t have someone to talk to about the Upside Down with since things were weird with Nancy, and Jonathon was out for obvious reasons.”

“Absolutely,” Eddie agrees, thinking of the uncomfortable dynamics that would have created. “But I knew you were coming, not that he told me exactly when. But I had hope for the lonely guy carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. And then I saw you at Scoops and I was fucking delighted: Steve wasn’t going to be alone anymore.”

She sucks air through her teeth, “I did not like you.” Eddie snorts while remembering her stink-eye, “Yeah, you weren’t subtle.”

“Wasn’t trying to be,” she admits. “Honestly, I was trying to run you off. I’d just started to come around on him: he was a good guy, affectionate with the hellions, did his bit at the shithole that was Scoops, and was a bit of a bitch. He was fun. Then you came swaggering in one day, mocking him, which, honestly, I had been doing that too, but at least mine was in good fun.”

Eddie’s mouth drops open in shock, “I never mocked him! When did I do that?”

“I’m not making it up,” she insists. “Steve had just struck out again—I was paying attention because I had this board where I’d tally every time he’d hit and miss and—”

Robin pauses, looking to the side like she’s expecting Steve to reach over and tell her to get to the point.

She swallows and continues, “Anyway, the chicks were laughing at his lame attempt at being charming and then you came over, making fun of him for not being the ladies’ man that he was at school. And you kept giggling like you couldn’t help but laugh at him.”

“No,” Eddie moans in a long sound of horror, staring up at the swaying branches above them and wondering if he’ll need to live in a nest with the birds forever to escape his embarrassment.

“I was so freaked out about coming across him outside the trailer that I didn’t even pay any attention to the girls in the line.” His eyes widen as another thought occurs to him, “Did he think I was making fun of him?”

Robin eyes him, pursing her lips in consideration, “He told me later that he thought about it, and came to the conclusion that maybe you were flirting but didn’t mean to, and felt bad because you already had a boyfriend.”

I was the asshole! Eddie hears an echo of Steve say, realising that the ‘friend’ he thought Eddie had been hung up over the summer had, in fact, been himself. He huffs out a laugh, the sound a blend of frustration and amusement, “How quickly did he clock me as gay?”

She smiles in memory, “I think it was just hope at first. You know he had a big fat crush on you, right?” Eddie smiles smugly: he did know that. “But then we entered the scene and figured out the meaning behind your hanky. I think that it helped him connect a few dots. He told me about you driving him home after Halloween and how you’d sometimes stare at him in gym class.”

Eddie hides his hot cheeks beneath his palms at the knowledge that Steve had always known that Eddie was staring at him, but he stares blankly at her about the other thing she’d mentioned. “Hanky?”

She covers her smirk with her hand, gesturing with her eyebrows to his back pocket as if to jog his memory. He glances back at his black bandana with the cool white skulls but shakes his head in incomprehension.

Laughter peals from behind her raised palm and she pulls the spare bandana out from his pocket, waving it in front of his face. “This, you dingus. It means that you’re flagging. That you’re open to sex with men.”

Eddie snaps it out of her hand, hurriedly looking around the empty clearing as if someone is about to pop out any moment and comment on his sexual proclivities. “With what?” he hisses, cheeks burning hotter.

Her laughter dies down to a chuckle, “Oh my god, you really are clueless. You’re perfect for each other.” She pauses before slyly adding, “Do you know that there are certain meanings for colour and pocket choice too?”

Eddie eyes her cautiously, stepping back, “You know, Steve once said that we’d either terrorise each other or get along like a house on fire. I’m not sure where the truth lies.”

She pulls the bandana out of his hands to stuff it in his front pocket, out of sight. “You stop flagging all around town and I’d say we’ll get along famously.” She laughs again, eyes dancing with amusement as she unpacks her past misconceptions about Eddie, “It’s another reason why I didn’t approve.”

Eddie raises a doubtful brow, unsure of how much more psychic damage he can take in one day.

“Well, if you did have a boyfriend that summer and continued to flag while also flirting with another boy at Scoops, then there was no way I was going to let you date dingus.”

“And now?” he smiles.

“You’re okay,” Robin says softly, but looks away and he thinks that maybe she’s wishing Steve was here to see them getting along.

“He comes back, he always does,” Eddie says quietly but with a strong thread of belief running through it nonetheless.

“You didn’t seem so convinced back at the trailer, that first time or earlier,” she says, lips twisting in dismay. She turns away and grabs another leaf to start picking at it.

“I also hadn’t slept for days and had just been torn into by bats, my reserves were pretty low,” he reminds her. “And back there…”

He sighs, kicking at the dirt and other natural debris under his feet. “It’s just frustrating not to immediately have an answer. I was relying on you guys, to be honest. I don’t have the smarts to work this out and Steve always talked about how clever you all are. I was hoping for some backup.”

“I hated what he was saying,” Robin admits darkly, tearing the leaf clean in two.

“Owens? Yeah, what a nothing answer, right?”

She nods and, by unspoken agreement, they start to head back to Eddie’s trailer. “Yeah, like if you’re going to be all ‘I don’t know about the vast uncharted territories of life’ then at least come to us with a theory. He is literally a secret government scientist, he should have theories coming out of his butt.”

“Head’s too far up it,” Eddie comments, and she laughs before turning to him.

“We’re going to work this out, right? You’ve seen him come and go so you know that it’s possible to get him back.”

“It’s possible, birdie.”

Robin grimaces at the nickname but lets him have it, walking ahead as she enters the front door into the living room. The place has cleared out from about half the number that had been there earlier, but Max is in the kitchen with Wayne and, as he’ll find out later, learning to make carrot cookies.

El and Lucas sit on the kitchen counter stools, watching her and idly talking between swiping cookie dough. Erica sits on the couch, flipping through Eddie’s Dungeon Master manual and gives him the stink eye when he sits next to her.

“Done with your freak out?” she cooly asks over a raised brow.

Robin holds her hands up in defeat and leaves to join the group in the kitchen. Eddie looks around; the trailer is empty but for them. “Did Dustin leave?”

“Yeah, he mumbled something about having to go,” Erica turns back to the book, “but I thought we could start with these at least. They helped us with Vecna, so maybe Steve is in here too.”

Warmth unfolds in Eddie’s chest and he smiles at her approvingly. She rolls her eyes but leans forward to pick up the monster manual on the coffee table and shoves it into his hands, “Here, make yourself useful.”

Patience settles into Eddie’s bones: he’s waited on Steve before, and he’ll do it again. At least now, he has others to join him in the hunt to bring his springtime boy home.

 

 

Notes:

...and despite Steve's ineptness at baking, Max and Wayne are going to make great carrot cookies, but she'll crinkle her nose in the end because 'they don't taste right.'

Chapter 35: The Abyss

Summary:

Last chapter, Robin and Eddie came to an understanding as he earned her trust and approval as Steve's boyfriend, meanwhile they both worried about how to retrieve Steve from the past with the trailer gate sealed by El.

This chapter, when Robin enlists Eddie to help a manic and angry Dustin they figure out a way forward to find Steve once more.

Two weeks after El sealed the last gate and Eddie had cautiously rejoined the students at Hawkins High, Robin slams her tray down on the cafeteria table, casually shoving Gareth out of the way to sit next to Eddie. He grumbles but edges over, leaning into Mike who spills his milk onto Lucas’ sandwich.

“Dude!” Lucas cries out, pulling up his sopping bread as the brown bag underneath darkens. He scowls, scrunching the paper into a ball and throws it at Mike’s head. Mike rolls his eyes as he bats it away.

“I’m worried about Dustin,” Robin says without preamble while she pulls open her chip bag with aplomb. The crinkle of it is lost in the sound of the loud chatter and hoots of students talking and calling out to each other, but the air quickly blooms with the sharp smell of vinegar.

Eddie looks down the table at the boys with a questioning brow. “I’ve not seen him around much lately,” he admits. Lucas exchanges a weighted glance with Mike before sharing, “He’s probably at the library right now.”

Robin swallows her mouthful, “That’s what I mean. I stopped by his place because…” she trails off, jaw briefly clenching.

Because Steve would have, Eddie mentally fills in for her. He gently nudges her with his elbow and she forces a smile, “Anyway, he had a massive tower of books in his room, all sci-fi.”

“That’s not weird,” Mike says, sipping the leftovers of his milk.

“A lot of them were about time travel,” Robin says pointedly and Mike grimaces in acknowledgement.

Dougie leans forward, a sardonic gleam in his eye as he glances around at the rest of the Hellfire members, “Why Robin, do you have a problem with the well-read?” Gareth guffaws, but Jeff ignores the two of them as he thoughtfully watches the rest of the group.

Eddie figures he’s has been giving him time and space following spring break, but by the increasingly sharp look in Jeff’s eyes Eddie knows he needs to tell him something soon.

As Eddie glances back, he catches Robin’s darkly pensive expression as she drums her fingers on the grey table and contemplates Dougie across from her. He just as quickly resolves to talk to the guy before he ends up with an unwelcome surprise in his backpack one day.

She’s distracted from whatever sinister plans she has when Lucas shoots Robin an expressive look about Dustin’s recent reading habits. “He’s researching,” he says meaningfully.

“He looked manic,” Robin rebuts bluntly.

Lucas sighs and picks the soggy parts off of his sandwich, “He’s been having a hard time not being able to turn to science or D&D to figure out where—” he pauses, eyes flickering to the listening Hellfire members, “—figuring out his campaign idea.”

“Dustin’s doing a campaign? How come we don’t know? Don’t tell me we’re not invited,” Gareth complains, passing the banana his mother insists on packing in his lunch bag to Dougie.

“No, he’s just doing research right now,” Mike smiles innocently, but turning back to them his expression becomes shadowed, “and not much more than that. He’s been skipping class too.”

Robin and Eddie exchange worried glances. “I’ll check on him,” he says.

Eddie doesn’t wait until the end of lunch but shoves the rest of the sloppy joe in his mouth and heads to the library, dodging groups of students in the hallways. Sadly, the bastion of free knowledge is fairly unoccupied when he arrives, but he makes sure to wave at Ms Marjorie behind the desk. Today, her curly black and silver afro sits high above a headband featuring dancing feather pens and a pot of cheerful yellow marigolds sit at her elbow.

Her eyes crinkle in welcome behind her tortoise-shell glasses and she silently holds up a book that she’s scanning into the return pile, on its cover he's intrigued to see that it has shadowy pictures of two women and a feral-looking wolf emerging from a secret world. Despite his own interest, he silently shakes his head to Marjorie: he’ll wait until Steve’s back before he borrows another one.

At the back of the stacks, the walnut shelving creating its own wooden canopy, Eddie finds Dustin. He sits with his back against the cream wall and below a poster with Levar Burton smiling under the reading rainbow.

Dustin notes his approach but ignores him to look back down at the open book in his lap. Folding his legs under him, Eddie sits cross-legged and eyes the red cloud with its shooting black lines amongst the shaded figures.

“Not personally a fan of that one myself,” Eddie admits as Dustin’s face sets into stubborn lines, refusing to look up.

Pursing his lips in thought, Eddie shares what he hopes will make Dustin smile, “You know, Steve once said that the cover looks like an exploding asshole.”

At Steve's name, Dustin lowers the book to glare at him, “You knew, and you didn’t tell me.” His voice is flat and accusing.

Ah, so this is that conversation then. Eddie has been wondering when Dustin would bring up his omissions, even after having met the fellowship more fully.

“You know I couldn’t,” he calmly argues.

Dustin points at the stacks beyond them with an angry finger, “You stood right there and lied to my face. And I knew, I knew you were lying, you son of a bitch. It was never a stupid prank.”

Eddie leans back on his hands, feeling tired. When, he wonders, will thinking about Steve no longer leave him with an aching pang? “What’d you expect, kid? We had to minimise the risk. I lied and you accepted it. If you didn’t believe me then you pretended for a reason, didn’t you?”

Dustin looks down at the folded book in his hands, huffing out an exasperated breath. “Yeah, I thought that either I was wrong, and it was something stupid from the past, or I was right, and you were lying for a reason.” He glumly picks at the edge, “Steve looked so freaked out about the Bradbury story and maybe I didn’t want to betray his trust if it were true.”

Eddie leans over, slapping the back of his hand against Dustin’s knee, “You did good, pipsqueak. That’s exactly what he needed from you.”

Dustin’s face twists and he blinks rapidly, but he keeps his eyes trained down at the book in his lap. “I always thought we were going to win because of Steve,” he confesses quietly. “He said it was hard but we won, and he wouldn’t say that if one of us was badly hurt. I sensed as much even though I didn’t know him well then. And, after the demo-dogs, I was even more convinced he would only say we won if we all survived. So, it was all…”

Eddie waits patiently as Dustin grimaces, looking up with wide, beseeching eyes like he’s asking for forgiveness. “…I don’t know, an adventure? It was scary, but it was almost a safe scary. The only strange variable was Steve travelling through time, but he came back, Eddie.”

Desperation edging into his tone, Dustin explains, “He was right there in my bedroom so that meant he survived, right? He was going to have to wait a couple of years to catch-up to us, but I knew—because of that first visit—I knew that if he was travelling through time then he’d be waiting on the other side once we destroyed Vecna. But blipping? I never saw that coming. I never factored in that he might be the one who was in danger.”

Dustin smacks the book against the ground with a hard thud of frustration, “Why didn’t I ever stop to consider that Steve was at risk?”

He stops Dustin’s hand from punishingly slamming down again, curling it into a loose fist and placing it softly on Dustin’s knee. “He looks pretty invulnerable, doesn’t he?”

Dustin mutely nods, eyes watery.

“It’s on purpose, you know,” Eddie says gently. “He never would have wanted you guys worried about him, especially the junior members of the fellowship.”

Dustin waves a protesting hand in the air. “We’re not kids! We’ve been fighting the Upside Down longer than you’ve known about it, Eddie.”

“True,” he acknowledges, because it’s a good point no matter how sad it makes Eddie to think of a kid younger than this pipsqueak in the entranceway of his Hobbit home, fighting monsters and trying to find his lost, presumed-dead friend. “But you were his kids.”

Eddie laughs lightly in fond memory. “He said as much as soon as I met him. It was practically the first words out of his mouth.”

Dustin chews on his cheek, expression turning mournful and words almost a whisper as he confesses, “He was the big brother I always wanted.”

“And he still is,” Eddie says fiercely, swallowing the fear that he’s lying by using the present tense. “He loves you, Dustin. He wouldn’t want you to give yourself a hard time and that means you need to start looking after yourself, keep going to class and give yourself a break.”

Picking up Heinlein’s book, Eddie waves it in the air purposely, “And, amongst that, you can keep gnawing away at the puzzle. He’s relying on us to bring him back: you’re the brain and I’m his anchor, between us we’ll make sure that he comes home.”

“And El’s the muscle,” Dustin says slowly, an idea sparking bright in his eyes. Eddie can’t quite make him out as he starts to mutter, springing up to pace back and forth between the tall bookcases. The lights above cast his rapidly moving shadow onto the colourful regiment of shelved books.

“Dustin…” Eddie calls, hoping that he hasn’t broken the younger boy somehow.

“We keep talking about Steve missing like he’s in charge of it or like it’s a godly thing that we have no power over. But it’s just another curse, Eddie. It’s a spell.”

“And we need a spellcaster,” Eddie says in dawning realisation, mouth spreading in a wide grin. He leaps up and shakes Dustin by the shoulders, “You gorgeous genius.”

“That I am,” Dustin says smugly, blowing an errant curl off his forehead. “Let’s go talk to El."

 

---

 

The group gathers like industrious bees in the trailer the next day, the small space nearly overflowing while Eddie sits between Robin and Nancy, holding their hands as his foot nervously bounces.

Robin draws her legs up onto the couch, resting her chin on her knees with blue eyes unhappy, “This is insane.”

“More insane than interdimensional travel and a realm that manifests towns and monsters for its scared or lonely visitors?” Nancy counters quietly, watching Wayne fill the kiddie pool through the green garden hose connected to the tap. Noon sunlight spills through the open door and the sound of water quietly cascades as it flows into El’s makeshift deprivation tank.

The coffee table was banished to the porch to give them more space to manoeuvre, but Wayne had refused to let the kids handle the hose inside the house. Determinedly taking over after watching Mike exit the Wheeler’s brown Chevy, tripping over air and nearly sprawling on the ground before Will caught him.

Eddie sympathetically eyes the kid’s gangly limbs: he remembers that awkward growing phase.

“But El’s powers have increased,” Mike protests as he dumps salt into the pool. “She shouldn’t need a deprivation tank anymore; it’s not like we’re all the way in Nevada again.”

Will gives him a pitying look as he stirs with a left-over plank from the barricade against the ceiling, “You don’t think travelling through time might require more effort than a measly thirty-hour drive?” Jonathon huffs in the corner armchair, Argyle cross-legged at his feet, “Nothing measly about it.”

“He’s not entirely wrong though,” Lucas points out in the kitchen, his mouth full of half-chewed apple. “She doesn’t even bleed from her nose anymore.” A crunch sounds through the room as he bites into it again, punctuating his point.

El walks out of Eddie’s bedroom with Max’s hand in hers, looking calmer than when she’d arrived like she’d taken the preparation time to find a quiet within herself.

“It’s time,” she announces firmly.

Will steps back after one last stir and Nancy gracefully stretches over to pass her Eddie’s black bandana to cover her sight.

“Wait!” Dustin scrambles through the open door, a piece of clothing clenched in his hand. Everyone turns to him startled. Eddie hadn’t noticed his absence in his anxiety about the coming event; mind turning over what ifs all over again, not even being able to conceive of what to do next if El can’t reach him.

They’ll simply try again, Eddie decides, lips firming. They’ll keep on trying until they find him and they’ll pull him home one last time.

“Here,” Dustin pushes his offering into El’s hands. Surprised, she automatically takes it, glancing down at the thin green vest.

“Dustin, buddy,” Robin says slowly, “why are you giving her Steve’s uniform from Family Video?”

Dustin glances at her before earnestly turning to El, “I know that the point of the deprivation tank is, you know, deprivation, but your powers are stronger than ever and you’re only doing the salt water in case you need the amplification.”

“We know that, Dustin,” Mike interrupts like he hadn’t been questioning the exact same idea only minutes ago. Robin and Nancy silently roll their eyes at each other.

“So it shouldn’t be too distracting if you’re holding onto a piece of something that has a strong connection to Steve,” Dustin continues, ignoring him. “He’s practically lived in that for the past year: it’s got to be saturated in Steve-ness.”

“Oh fantastic, Dusty-bun, she can sniff Steve out like a time-dog,” Max says sarcastically.

“Isn’t that what she is doing though,” Will interrupts thoughtfully, eyeing the vest. “It’s not like he’s physically here in the real world right now. He’s not across the country, he’s not in this trailer even though he will be— was—” He gives up trying to work out the tense and shakes his head, “You know what I mean. Maybe this is a good idea: it’ll give El something to focus on when there’s nothing of him here.”

Eddie clenches his jaw against the sharp pain that Will’s last sentence brings. Looking around the trailer he can see evidence of Steve everywhere: the fruit bowl he’d insisted on to civilise the Forrest Hill boys, the TV Guide he’d shamelessly enjoyed every week, the little wooden blue jay he’d whittled in the armchair Jonathon is currently sitting on.

“Steve isn’t gone,” Eddie mutters stubbornly, but in the natural lull of conversation his words ring clearly through the room. Wayne looks at him in concern and Robin squeezes his hand; he squeezes back knowing that she’s thinking the same, even if she can’t exactly see Steve in the trailer like Eddie can.

“He’s not,” Dustin agrees, in a more careful tone than he usually manages, “and that’s the point. We know that the space he’s in—the place—is here, in the trailer. Which is brilliant really because we don’t have to worry about tracking him geographically, we just need El to find him in time.”

“And I’ve already done that with the calendar; we know what days and months he was for every visit,” Eddie recalls, hope cautiously filling him.

“Exactly, and if she can locate him then we work it out from there,” Dustin bounces on his toes as he shoots Eddie cocked finger guns in appreciation of his agreement.

They all pause to wait for El’s verdict. She stares thoughtfully down at the clothing in her hand, thumbing it briefly before turning considering eyes to Eddie. Everyone swivels to look at him as if he’d said something but Eddie shrugs, not knowing why she’s looking at him with such a heavy stare.

“You are his lover,” El says bluntly.

Mike chokes and Wayne smacks him soundly on the back like he simply needs his airways cleared. He nearly falls into the kiddie pool but Lucas grabs him by the collar, pulling him closer to the kitchen and out of the main area. Mike whispers something urgently to Lucas but he shoves him onto a stool with a hiss to shut up.

Eddie ignores the fuss, if the kid hasn’t worked it out by this point, then he may truly be as hopeless as Eddie fears. “Yeah.”

“More than that, you are his lover through time. You were with him through every blip.”

Her eyes are steady and sure, but Eddie shifts uneasily. “Not every time, I wasn’t in the room on New Year's, and I was in the bathroom that time in the kitchen. More often than not he blipped back when I wasn’t around.”

“I said it wrong,” El frowns, clearly struggling with the language, “He was with you. He was always with you whether you knew it or not, and a room away is nothing. It is less than a blip. You need to come with me.”

Eddie’s gaze flickers to the pool doubtfully, “I don’t think that will fit two, kid.”

“You can hold hands,” Max says decisively. “If El can piggyback across America to reach into my mind to then target Vecna, holding hands should be enough.”

El smiles at her approvingly, “Exactly, thank you, Max. Come here, Eddie.”

She beckons and Eddie cautiously releases the girls’ hands to kneel by the plastic at the centre of the room, pulling off the silver rings on his right fingers.

El settles into the pool with a quiet splash, wraps the bandana securely over her eyes and descends backwards, salt water covering her neck and body, Steve’s green vest in one hand and Eddie clasped in the other.

At her seat by the television, Erica turns the volume knob for the channel that had been set to a snowy image. The sound of static fills the room and everyone falls silent with the hushed sort of reverence for a magic that none of them understand, but all have faith in. A belief based on watching El make the impossible happen again and again.

And this is one more impossible thing that will be made possible, Eddie thinks fiercely, determinedly closing his eyes too. He concentrates on the sound of the static, hoping that blanking his mind will help El.

He tries, but it’s hard at first. He can hear Robin restlessly tapping her fingers against the couch, Nancy shifting beside her, and the creak of the armchair under Jonathon’s seat. Just as he thinks he’ll be here for the duration of El’s magic spell as a hand-holding ornament, light shifts behind his eyelids and he feels the curious sensation of falling backwards while sitting absolutely still.

His body is no longer sitting on the floor but standing upright and he sees that he is surrounded by an unending abyss of blackness. There is no light, but he can see as far across the universe as if it were all a snow globe held in the palm of his hand.

Water splashes at his feet as El walks towards him. She looks up at his face, still clad in her white outfit from earlier in the day, feet bare but absent the bandana across her eyes.

Her gaze flies around the surrounding area, frowning, “I cannot feel him. You said it was during spring break, the last time.”

“The Wednesday, yeah.”

She cocks her head like she can hear the echo of a shout down a canyon, distorted but recognisable, nonetheless. “I think I need to start from the beginning. Come, we’ll find him together,” El says, holding out her hand as if they’re not already clasped in the real world.

“Okay, kid,” Eddie agrees, taking it and following as she walks forward.

“Tell me about the first time,” she instructs as they walk while an invisible, ethereal fabric weaves around and through them. Eddie holds his other arm out into dark space; he can feel time moving, flowing between his fingers like he’s stuck his outstretched hand out of a moving vehicle.

“Eddie,” she prompts, and he shakes his head, pulling his arm down and convinced that he could have slipped away for a second there if it weren’t for the steadying presence of the slightly built girl next to him.

“It was the first day of school,” he remembers, concentrating. “I hated it. I felt like such a fuck up and l knew it was all my own fault, which just made it worse. And I sat there, like a moron, and deliberately ignored my homework, as if that wasn’t what got me into trouble in the first place.”

“You were lonely,” El says softly.

He thinks about it, “Yeah, I suppose. In that way where you make yourself lonely by thinking all the bad things in life are happening only to you, when it’s really not.”

She smiles, a small gesture of understanding, “I know what that is like."

Eddie nods, sensing that if anyone would deserve to feel that way on occasion, El would.

She shifts and a shimmering light opens in front of them, the edges blurred but in it Eddie can see a full sized version of his younger self stubbornly drawing while sitting at the coffee table. He shakes his head at the idiot. Just read the damn assigned book, he wants to tell himself, maybe smack him over the head for good measure.

Suddenly, with a yell and a thud, Steve forcefully falls from the ceiling to the brown and white shag carpet. Past Eddie scrambles back in alarm and Eddie and El watch as the two of them slowly come together: Past Eddie staying in concern for his intruder despite the perceived danger, Steve rapidly patting him down in fear of his demo-bat injuries, and eventually pulling Past Eddie along after him like a lodestone, helpless to do anything but follow in Steve’s wake.

Eddie laughs at the dumb expression on his young face, already able to detect the hint of enthrallment at seeing Steve like this for the first time.

“Good,” she says and holds out her outstretched palm. But she soon frowns, hand shaking until she drops it by her side. “No, this isn’t right,” she muses, brow furrowed as she tries to work out the problem.

“You can’t grab him?” Eddie chews nervously on his lip.

She waves her hand like a bug is in her way and the scene fast forwards. Their own personal VHS of Days of Our (Time Travelling) Lives, Eddie thinks humorously, hope staying steady in him at El’s easy command of this uncanny space. The images slow at Dustin’s bedroom, Steve and the younger boy bickering until they look ready to tear each other’s hair out.

Eddie remembers feeling amused at the ridiculousness of the situation, but his past self looks more concerned than he’d realised. He had already started to believe Steve somewhat he realises on reflection now. The gravity and pain Steve had shown was compelling and Eddie held onto his amusement as a defence to his growing acceptance in the face of the inconceivable.

Pursing her lips, El swipes her hand and time fast forwards again until Steve and Past Eddie sit talking in the swiftly moving van through the backstreets of Hawkins.

Steve turns to consider Past Eddie thoughtfully as his younger self concentrates on driving. Eddie hadn’t realised how long Steve had been watching him before he asks, “Are you sure this is okay? Me staying for a few days? You don’t exactly know me. We’re not friends or anything right now.”

Past Eddie’s face briefly twists and Steve’s head cocks in surprise, clearly not expecting his clear hurt at the suggestion that they couldn’t be friends. A small smile tugs at Steve’s lips and he leans forward, mouth opening but the scene freezes. Eddie looks up, startled out of his fascination at this insight into his past.

El is squinting at the images, outstretched palm shaking slightly as her fingers curl inwards like slowly grabbing onto a foam ball. Her hand remains rounded but as the tips reach each other she steps back, steadily and slowly like she is dragging a heavy weight.

The image shakes and distorts, Steve’s body and face warping until he is pulled through the shimmering portal and into the dark abyss with the two of them. The portal winks out of existence.

Steve blinks, kneeling in the unearthly water and looks up at Eddie and El, his face breaking out into an expression of relief. “Thank Christ. You’ve come to get me?”

Eddie presses forward, extending a welcoming hand and pulling Steve up to stand. “We’ve come to get you, big boy.”

Steve’s shoulders and head drop in relief, hands propped against his hips as he exhales a long breath. “Thank fucking Christ, Jesus, God, and anyone else listening, I thought I was going to be stuck in Henderson’s basement for two years.”

Eddie squints, a suspicion filling him, “Not my bed?”

Steve’s head flies up, eyes widening in shock. “Your what?” he exclaims.

Eddie turns to El with a questioning raise of his brows, her hand is still clenched around the invisible ball, but she holds it to her chest like she is controlling it. She nods, “He is from exactly this time: he doesn’t remember yet.”

“Can we take him with us somehow?” Eddie asks.

Steve’s concern was always that his existence had the potential to change the timeline. If El can find him in the abyss then maybe she can move his body into the real world right now, which would neatly nip Steve’s worries in the bud from the beginning. The idea causes a niggle of worry in Eddie that his past may not happen with Steve, he may forget all of it, but better that than to lose Steve forever.

Eddie has faith that he can fall in love with Steve at any time in any way, as long as he has him by his side.

The man in question spears his fingers through his hair, dryly watching them converse over him. “He would like that too,” he says sarcastically.

Eddie waves his hand at him to be quiet, concerned by El’s increasingly troubled expression. She cocks her head at Steve, staring at him for so long that he steps back, nervously saying, “I mean, I’d really like it if you would, El. I don’t want to be stuck in time.”

His face falls as she shakes her head, “It’s not right yet.”

“What do you mean?” Eddie asks.

El opens her mouth to answer but she is distracted by her curved hand, arm drawing away from her chest like it’s being dragged by a rope attached to her wrist, pulling in the opposite direction and extending her arm out until it’s pointed straight at Steve again.

“No, no, no,” Steve begs. “Please, take me with you, El. Don’t let me—”

El’s fingers fly open as if despite herself and Steve’s mouth drops as he falls forward like someone had pushed him forcefully from behind. Eddie hears his shout before it’s cut off as Steve disappears, familiar like all the blips he’s seen before.

“El?” Eddie turns to her, worried. “We can get him back, right?”

She shakes her hand like it’s received an electric shock, trying to push out the sting and squints determinedly at the blank expanse in front of them. The shimmering wall slowly expands outward, trembling but remains blank. Beads of sweat form on her brow.

“Tell me about the second time,” she grits out, staring it down like it’s personally offended her.

“Uh, I was…” Eddie stutters, quickly trying to recall the next visit. “It was in my trailer. I mean, obviously. But I was listening to music in my room and playing with one of my figurines.”

He snaps his fingers in memory, “It was the demogorgon. I was actually thinking about Steve and how hot it was that he used a nail bat to kill monsters.” He blushes suddenly at revealing more to El than he’d meant to, but she ignores his embarrassment and nods over her outstretched hand.

The wall shimmers open easily again and they watch the trailer floor shudder as Steve falls face-down onto the carpet once more. El impatiently flicks through time before Past Eddie even tumbles out of his bedroom at the noise. The evening turns into night and night turns into morning, the images turning over rapidly until they start slowing under El’s command.

Eddie watches himself hold a crying Steve in their bed, heart turning over at seeing Steve so broken and unsure about his new role and responsibilities as a time traveller.

A thought occurs to him, “Shouldn’t he know that we’re coming for him?”

El hushes him, flicking forward until she slows the scene completely.

“No,” Past Eddie advises Steve on the bed next to him, “stay on the time tourism’s path and away from prehistoric bugs.”

Eddie watches Steve play with his past self by deliberately mispronouncing the cretaceous period. He hadn’t recognised the mischievous look on Steve’s face by that point but can’t help but huff out a laugh now. “Sly fucker,” he murmurs in appreciation.

His younger self is just reaching down for what Eddie can now admit isn’t that big a blood stain on the bedsheets when El pauses the scene, repeating her pinching fingers and walking backwards as if pulling at a heavy weight.

Steve appears on the water, laid out in a supine position but falling backwards as if he is still propped against the bed’s headboard.

“Fuck,” he cries out as his head hits the abyss floor.

Eddie experimentally toes at the ground below him; despite being sound enough to keep them upright, it doesn’t feel real either, as if any hardness is a part of their imagination rather than the space being held in solid reality.

Eddie thinks Steve’s shout was more out of surprise than hurt, but he stills asks, “You okay?”

Steve sighs, rolling over to push to his feet, “Yeah. Why didn’t you take me last time?”

“You remember that?” Eddie squints suspiciously.

Steve rolls his eyes, “Duh. I was in the van and then I was here and then you pushed me back into the trailer.” His hands fly to his hips like he’s about to dress down Dustin at his most obnoxious, but Eddie interrupts before he can get a full head of steam up.

“Then why were you so distraught in bed just now? You thought you were stuck there,” he points out.

Steve automatically opens his mouth to respond but shuts it as he stops to think, face twisting in consternation as he struggles to answer.

“You forgot,” El says, pinched hand clasped to her chest again. “When you are in the Present, you are there. You are not here and nor could you be.”

Eddie runs a tired hand over his eyes, “Run that by us again, kid.” Steve nods, confusion clear on his face too and El huffs, but Eddie’s not sure if it’s at them for not understanding or at her struggle to find the right words.

“You’ll see,” she says instead, frustration etched across her expression. Her arm extends under her own power this time and Steve shakes his head desperately, “Please, no, El. Take me with you.”

“I’m sorry, Steve, this is the way it has to be.”

And with that cryptic note, El releases her fingers and Steve falls again, propelled forward like he is pushed by an invisible hand at his back and disappearing before he reaches the water on the ground. She sighs shakily, stepping back on unsteady feet and Eddie shifts forward in case she falls, but El shakes her head. Gesturing for him to stay put.

He really, truly hates the idea of leaving Steve behind but they’re not going to save him if their spellcaster is out of commission. “I think we should come back after you’ve had a chance to rest.”

El shakes her head stubbornly, “No. Now tell me about the third time,” she commands and Eddie can suddenly understand all the stories he’s heard about El. She may look like a wisp of a thing, forced to look smaller with her shaven head even, but in this abyss she is a giant. Eddie just hadn’t realised until he was standing under her.

She concentrates on the shimmering wall as he explains, “Steve left a blood stain behind, so I was pretty worried about that for a long time. It was almost two months after he blipped out that he finally returned.”

He shakes his head in exasperation at Steve’s stubbornness, “I came back from a deal and he was standing in the middle of the trailer, brushing his teeth. I had driven him home a few weeks before that when he got into it with Billy and I may have still been angry that he was hurt but refused help.”

At Billy’s name, El’s gaze briefly flickers to his before she turns back, concentrating on the wall again. He’s seen how close she and Max are and wonders whether Max had told El about the full extent of Billy’s terrorising behaviour. From the grim set of her mouth, Eddie thinks that Billy may have had a scary El to face if it weren’t for the Upside Down taking him in the summer of ‘85.

In the shimmering image she conjures, the portal expands and Steve falls to the trailer carpet. He groans, rolling over to stare at the ceiling in frustration, “This is getting real old, real fast.” He stands up, shaking his limbs like he’s checking for any damage and Eddie grimaces, never really having considered the idea that Steve could land wrong and break a bone.

Time speeds up and Steve walks in and out of the living room, brushing his teeth and watching television until the door opens and Past Eddie enters.

By his prowling gait around Steve and the quick gestures that follow, Eddie can see how transparently worried and irate he’d been with Steve over his injuries, past and present. El presses forward, lips firm and arm slightly shaking. The images almost blur, but at times they slow until El shakes her head and presses forward again, speeding through time.

At one deceleration he sees Steve throwing a white baseball in the air, draped over the couch with Past Eddie at his feet. Steve starts to gesticulate angrily, so impassioned he doesn’t notice the clear captivation on Past Eddie’s face as he stares up at him. It’s love, Eddie remembers fondly.

Steve had given him such hope in this moment: a newly gained faith that a boy like himself could find an untarnished love, that his queerness wouldn’t preclude him from the type of affection and devotion that others take for granted.

Too soon, the images blur but as his eyes catch on Steve bending over in the kitchen Eddie calls out, “Wait!” He throws up a quick hand and El obliges him, drawing her arm back slowly and allowing the moment to play out in real-time.

From the middle of the oven, Steve pulls out a hot cake tin and, in it, Eddie can see the half-burnt and cracked fruit cake that had waited for him on Christmas day. On the kitchen countertop lies a roll of festive green paper, waiting for Steve to wrap Eddie’s present once it cools.

Steve pokes at the split in the middle and starts experimenting with sprinkling raisins across it like he’s trying to hide the flaw. He shakes his head, sighing, “Stupid.”

Affection fills Eddie, a slow seeping of ink across porous parchment that is both precious and inevitable. “It should be soon,” he smiles at El and she speeds up until reaching another moment in the kitchen.

Past Eddie leaves to brush his teeth while Steve bends over, slotting a container full of leftover meatloaf into the fridge. The scene pauses and distorts and El repeats her pinch and pull manoeuvre.

Steve stands in the middle of the darkness next to them, bent over at the waist as if he is still crouched in front of the fridge. Head turning to see them standing while staring at him, he abruptly straightens, clearing his throat and brushing off the front of his jeans in a nonchalant manner that has Eddie hiding his silent chuckle behind a raised hand. He figures Steve could use a break right about now.

“You’re back,” Steve observes, gaze stopping on Eddie. “I think I understand why you’re here now. I was confused about that when you first made me come to this place, but I suppose I’ll be at the trailer for the full couple of years?”

Eddie nods, smile still settled on his face from his initial amusement. “Yeah, but that’s not so bad, is it?”

Steve smiles back, “Nah, you fart in your sleep but that’s about the worst of it.”

His mouth dropping open in shock, Eddie points an accusing finger at Steve, “How dare you!”

Steve laughs, snickering into his fist before glancing over at El, frowning at her pale complexion and the sweat on her face. “You okay, Supergirl?” Eddie watches, horrified as a bright crimson bead drips beneath her nose. She reaches up and wipes it away, unconcerned but he can see how the fist to her chest is shaking.

“I don’t think I can hold it long,” she advises them, her arm already being pulled out by the invisible rope. Eddie quickly nods, turning to Steve, “Look, we’re coming for you. So don’t worry about the timeline, don’t worry about blipping in and out: you’re going to be okay.”

Steve’s eyes flick to stare at El, fear filling his features, “Yeah, but I’m going to forget this, aren’t I?”

Eddie steps forward, grabbing him by the shoulders and giving him a quick shake. Steve snaps out of his locked gaze on El, looking up at Eddie with wide hazel eyes.

“We’re coming back for you,” Eddie repeats, infusing his words with an unwavering certainty. “You’re not alone and…” Eddie darts a glance to where the wall had been a moment ago, “And you’re not alone when you go back either. I’ll be waiting for you every time, okay?”

Steve nods shakily, “Yeah, okay.” His head snaps behind him like he’d heard or felt something and Eddie steps back hastily at a half-formed guess that proves true as Steve is pushed forward, ready to land back into the past once more.

El pants, shaking her hand against the sting and Eddie pulls her away, “Come on, Gandalf. We’ll come back.”

El nods and Eddie opens his eyes to the trailer once more, drawing his right hand out of the kiddie pool and absently noting how white and pruney his fingers are, as if they had been in the water for a very long time. By the creakiness of his joints as he stands up, he figures they may have.

Robin and Nancy are still on the couch waiting expectantly, but Wayne has taken over for Jonathon in his usual spot in the armchair. The former noon sun that shone earlier has shifted to a deeper orange hue against the trailer floor and, from the distant sounds, Eddie figures the rest are waiting outside.

“Well?” Robin leans forward, gaze flicking about the room like she’s waiting for Steve to suddenly appear.

“Do you want the good news or the bad news first?” Eddie asks, offering and pulling El up by the hand, the water makes a sloshing sound as she stands and Nancy jumps forward with towels, trying to keep the excess from slopping over.

Wayne nods his head at her in appreciation but focuses on Eddie, leaning forward on his knees with concern etched deeply in the grooves of his face.

“Good news, obviously,” Robin says.

“I can find him within Time,” El says, standing atop a pile of towels while patting down her arms. “I had to start at the beginning to find the right moments to reach through, but as long as I follow the path then I will continue to find him.”

“The right moments?” Robin asks, confused.

El cocks her head, thinking. “Maybe not a path, but a river? There are points where the river of it becomes narrower, weak. Enough that I can pull him out. But I need Eddie to guide me to see and find him in the past.”

“And the bad news?” Nancy asks, sitting back beside Robin and taking her hand, their fingers weave together.

El looks at Eddie, but he’s not sure what she’s seeing before she turns back to the group, “I haven’t been able to permanently hold onto him yet.”

“We started with his first visit,” Eddie explains, rubbing at the rings on his left hand nervously. “El drew him out of the past and into the abyss with us, but she had to let go and Steve fell back into his second visit. We tried again for his second and third too but each time he disappeared into his next fall inside the trailer.”

“You’re causing his blips,” Robin says with dawning realisation. “You said Time is like a river — you fish him out and the stream keeps moving and, by the time you drop him back, the water has moved onwards and he’s at the start of the next visit.”

“Exactly,” El looks at her approvingly before her face twists in apology, “but the more time he is away, the more difficult it is to pluck him out and hold onto him.” Eddie bites down on the nervous thrum that runs through him at El’s admission. She doesn’t need his transparent anxiety while doing all the heavy lifting.

“You’d think it would be the other way around,” Wayne rumbles with a building frown. “Shouldn’t it be easier to find him the closer he comes to ‘86?”

El hangs the towel around her neck, hands drawing it tight over her chest, “It is the opposite. The further we get from his first drop back in time the longer the distance it takes for me to reach him.”

“To expand on the analogy, it’s sort of like a fishing rod, right?” Robin asks.

At their confused looks she explains further, demonstrating with her arm stuck out vertically in the air in front of her. “The hook is in the water, the thread relatively relaxed and so the fishing rod is straight: tall and strong.”

Her elbow begins to move, curving her wrist and hand towards the floor, “But the fish bites. As he swims away, the rod has to bend under the stress of the fish pulling on the line, and so El has to put more power into dragging him back to her.”

Slowly, El nods, “Something like that, yes. Steve was close at the beginning, when he first landed in the living room, but the longer he stays away the further he draws from my reach, and the harder it is to pull back the rod.”

“He’s going to hate being compared to a fish,” Nancy wryly observes and Robin snorts in agreement.

“We’ll tell him that we compared him to an angelfish, they’re very pretty.”

“But you’re not completely in control when it comes to him going back,” Eddie muses, miming her fingers flying open like they were blown apart by a force. Thinking of the invisible rope that pulled El’s arm away from her chest as if she were compelled against her will to release Steve.

“I’m sorry. It takes a lot of effort to bring him through, yes, but nor was I allowed to take him yet,” El sighs, a glum sound as if she feels responsible.

“Allowed?” Nancy frowns in concern.

“There is an order to things, to the events in Steve’s travels. I think I can draw him out and maybe even take him back with us, but I can’t break whatever has already happened, that’s beyond my powers.”

“But it’s within someone else’s powers?” Robin asks, fear settling over her features and Eddie understands why. El is their ace in the hole, their one hope for getting Steve back, and if she has to work against someone like Vecna again the possibilities for this to become a cluster fuck increase.

“Maybe,” El says cryptically but refuses to elaborate. It makes Eddie want to tug at his hair, pulling until the sharp pain gives him an epiphany. But time travel has always been a thing outside of his control, and completely outside of his understanding. The idea of it so abstract that concrete demonstrations, like taking someone’s body through images in an abyss, already threaten to break his brain.

“Is it even possible?” Nancy ventures cautiously, looking nervously at Robin like she’s expecting to be told off for calling out the elephant in the room. “I went over Eddie’s calendars and Steve visited nine times. What if he’s too far by that point?”

“There is another force. It is pushing him out at times, towards me. It helps the river become narrow and weak, allowing me to pull him out.” El’s face screws up as she tries to work out how to explain further but she gives up, shaking her head with a shrug.

“Steve kept saying that Time didn’t want him there, at the end,” Eddie exchanges a glance with Wayne, in their gaze the memory of Steve’s deteriorating health.

Wayne leans back with a grimace, “He was ill, shaky. Wasn’t eating, and suddenly falling asleep in the middle of the day.” Robin looks stricken, gaze flying to Eddie for confirmation.

“He said that he was in the wrong place and time,” Eddie explains, understanding the helplessness he sees in her eyes, “like he was a virus in the body of Time, and it was trying to burn him out in response.”

Nancy curses, face settling into grim lines, “So El can barely reach him and some unknown force is pushing him around while making him sick. I’m not sure there is any good news.”

“No,” Robin says firmly, her face suddenly filling with a conviction similar to when she had argued that the Upside Down trees were unconnected to the hivemind creatures. “We know that it’s working because Steve did blip in and out nine times. We know it because Eddie and Wayne saw this all happen already — not only can they tell us it right now, to our faces, but the calendar is further proof. If El’s responsible for his blips, it means that what she’s doing is working.”

Nancy cautiously nods, her gaze sharpening the longer that Robin explains her theory. “And if El can’t take him until he’s completed all his visits, but Time is pushing him out, then maybe after the ninth is when Time finally pushes him out for good. And El can permanently bring him back to us.”

“All of this has already happened, so we just need to continue doing what we’re doing,” Eddie ventures with a questioning look towards El who hesitantly nods.

Despite her pensive expression, the gesture bolsters something inside Eddie, hope returning in a small, flickering flame.

“And when we reach the ninth visit?” Wayne gravely challenges.

Eddie meets El’s eyes across the room, in them he can see determination and he remembers the giant in the abyss. “Then we cross that bridge when we come to it, but we’re going to get him back.”

 

 

Notes:

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Chapter 36: Twilight Visions

Summary:

Last chapter, El took Eddie into the abyss and, by going back to the beginning of Steve's journey back to '84, they were able to draw him out of the time river three times; however, Steve never remembers the abyss when he returns and El revealed that the further Steve falls through time the harder it is for her to reach him.

This chapter, El and Eddie continue to reach out to Steve through his blips in the abyss while Steve is determined to rescue Eddie no matter what it takes.

The next day, Eddie glances around the trailer living room, the kiddie pool at the centre once more. “You know, you all don’t need to be here.”

He understands why Robin’s present and even Nancy and Dustin, but the rest of the kids have piled in, followed by Jonathon and a nonchalant Argyle. Wayne stands in the kitchen, preparing a pot of coffee for the young adults.

“We should be though, when he arrives,” Lucas says, mulishness etched into his very frame like Eddie’s about to tell them all to get lost.

“I’m just saying, he’d understand if you came over once he’s back.”

Erica crosses her arms, “Scoops Troop forever.”

“If he dies, I die,” Dustin adds nonsensically.

“He’s one of the party,” Will explains more sensibly and Mike nods beside him.

Eddie raises his hands in defeat, warmth unfolding inside his chest and wishing that he had a video camera to tape the moment so he could play it for Steve.

He kneels by the pool, stroking the embroidered butterfly at the edge of his denim vest for luck, and wonders whether it’d be an abuse of power to ask El to show Steve this event in the abyss once he’s back.

As long as they get him back, he thinks grimly.

Robin reaches over and squeezes his shoulder as if she can hear his thoughts; he glances back at her in appreciation before she lets go. Closing his eyes, he concentrates on blocking out the sounds of the people in the trailer while El falls into her trance.

He opens his eyes to the abyss of the universe, El already waiting with her hand reaching out to him. Eddie smiles, taking it, and they start to walk in the bright darkness.

“The fourth time,” he begins, “was right after my birthday. I had smoked a couple of joints with Randy Mullins on the front porch, but I don’t know when Steve arrived.”

They stop in a spot that feels random to Eddie, but he can feel the purpose behind El as she shifts them in place, hand outstretched and the wall shimmering open once more.

Steve falls face down onto the brown and white carpet with a thud. “Mother fucker,” he breathes before pushing up onto his hands and knees.

A stream of giggles that sounds like Past Eddie comes from outside and Steve approaches the window cautiously. Afternoon light pours through the window to highlight the frown on Steve’s face as he takes in whatever scene he sees out on the porch.

Eddie remembers Steve in the heat of their argument over the condoms scathingly saying maybe because I came back in March and you’re giggling in his lap and smacks a rueful hand to his forehead.

“You know, Steve,” Eddie says to the unwitting man on the other side of time, “I was not in his lap, and I was giggling because I was stoned out of my mind.”

Steve shows no sign of hearing Eddie and his head tilts towards the direction of the woods at the back of the trailer park, his face taking on a contemplative expression. Eddie thinks that maybe Steve is considering the difference; compared to the bare branches of when he’d left, the maples and birch trees would have started to show the fresh green of spring renewal by this point.

Steve nods sourly, dropping the curtain back and Eddie realises that he thinks he’s been gone for so long that Past Eddie has forgotten about him. Or, at least, has been too busy having fun with his friends to care.

“You idiot,” Eddie scowls at Steve.

“Eddie,” El looks at him with a raised brow and he abashedly nods.

“Sorry, go ahead Gandalf. He’s just so frustrating at times.”

“He thinks we do not love him,” she observes, and they watch as he pours himself a bowl of cereal in the kitchen. He glumly picks up a spoon to poke at his meal and Eddie sighs, “Yeah, the big loveable oaf can’t see what’s right in front of him sometimes.”

El flicks out her hand. The images start to run into each other creating a tapestry of day and night flickering through so quickly that they begin to blur. El repeats the same procedure as last time, slowing at times like she thinks she could pull Steve out of the time river at certain moments before shaking her head and pushing onwards.

As he watches a bird take flight while Steve chases him through the woods, before their first kiss, he wonders whether it makes a difference if he simply tells her the date that Steve next blips out. He’d marked down each time that Steve departed and landed back again, keeping record like he might find meaning in them one day.

Spotting the van pull into the drive-through at night he supposes that they have in a way. El is clearly being guided by her senses and Eddie has enough faith in her to let her find the right spot. If it’s different from his memory, then so be it. He has a feeling that following El’s lead is the safest way of returning Steve to them.

On the shimmer wall, Past Eddie tumbles out of the van and Steve starts unpacking the blankets and pillows around him before checking inside the plastic bag by his side like he’s making sure that the butterscotch and rocky road are still in there. Eddie chuckles, shaking his head at the misunderstanding through time before a thought occurs to him.

He blanches at knowing what’s coming next in the van. “Uh El, do me a favour and don’t feel out this night. Just skip it. Blur right past it please.” Trusting her senses be damned: there’s no way he’s allowing a teenage girl to see what they got up to.

El smirks at him, “The good sounds?”

Eddie hides his blushing cheeks in his hands. “Just move past it,” he pleads.

It’s El’s turn to chuckle as she flicks her hand and thankfully no one sees much of anything until the images slow to a Steve crouching behind the kitchen counter, green screwdriver in hand as he wiggles the newly fixed cupboard door with a satisfied nod. Past Eddie pushes open the trailer door before trudging in, shoulders down and looking lost.

Eddie is unsurprised to note that he is not a pretty crier, his past eyes are puffy and nose red. Steve startles once he takes in his appearance, reaching out already while saying, “Baby, what happ—”

El’s hand moves and the scene freezes, stopping Steve mid-word, his mouth open and eyes concerned.

Eddie sighs, remembering how badly he had wanted Steve’s arms around him in that moment, thinking that he had a plan forward, yes, but right then all he’d wanted to do was curl up in bed with Steve reassuring him that he was not the complete fuck up that he felt like. “This feels cruel, kid,” Eddie says.

“I have to take him in the moment that’s weakest: this is that moment,” her words are a matter of fact, but her voice is kind and Eddie steps back while she does her thing. The fingers of El's outstretched palm curl inwards, grabbing onto the invisible foam ball until the tips touch and then she steps back, steadily and slowly like she is dragging a heavy weight.

Steve’s form, mid-stride, warps until he is pulled through the shimmering portal and into the dark abyss with the two of them. The wall winks out of existence, but Steve continues striding forward until he reaches Eddie, gently cupping his face to cradle him within his hands. “What happened? Are you okay?”

Eddie smiles, unsurprised that being pulled into the unknown, through to the universe’s dark abyss, is only a small matter to Steve when faced with the hurt of the people he cares for. “I’m fine, sweetheart. I got some bad news, but it’s nothing serious.”

Steve squints suspiciously, “It’s nearing the end of the school year.”

Reaching up, Eddie draws Steve’s right hand to his mouth, pressing an affectionate kiss against it. “And I figured out that skipping my homework has consequences, I’ll get over it.”

Steve’s face twists and Eddie shakes his head, already knowing what’s going through his mind, “It’s not your fault and I don’t blame you. I won’t blame you once you land back again so don’t worry about it.”

Steve swallows his unease though Eddie imagines it’s still churning through him despite Eddie’s reassurance. He sighs, stepping closer to press a gentle kiss against his lips. “It’s going to be okay,” he whispers against him, wishing that he could say I love you instead, but it’s not time yet. Steve rests his forehead against Eddie and they take a moment to draw strength from each other.

Eddie bites against the swelling feeling inside him at the realisation that this is the closest he’s been next to his Steve in a long time. This is the Steve who kisses him goodnight, who shares a bed with him and not just in their earlier, weird roommate situation but curled around him with fingers intertwined and hearts beating in tandem.

“Hi,” Eddie whispers into their shared space. He wonders if Steve understands him somewhat because he simply smiles back, “Hi, baby.”

Eddie,” El warns and they turn to see her hand already being pulled away from her chest, “I tried to hold it, but it is coming.”

Eddie presses a quick kiss to Steve before stepping back, “Remember, we’re coming for you. You’re going to be fine.”

“Just as long as you’re okay, Eddie,” Steve's brow crumples, looking helpless as he stands waiting for the invisible hand to push him through time.

Eddie steels himself against the sadness that wants to rise because these blips are needed until they can reach the end and pull him through. “Just wait, sweetheart. We’re coming.”

Steve startles and falls forward, disappearing before he hits the water.

Exhaling the sadness, Eddie turns to El, “You got another one in you?”

He frowns, she looks paler than she had after the first pull forward the first time. “Are you okay?” he adds. El shakes her fingers against the sting of the backlash and Eddie licks his lips nervously, “Are you sure you want to try again?”

“Eddie,” El takes his hand reassuringly, “it does not matter how hard it is, I will keep trying. Like you said, we are not leaving him behind.”

“Thanks, Gandalf,” Eddie squeezes it before letting go and El turns back to the wall as she waits for him to describe the next visit. He mulls it over, trying to remember what had happened because that was the time he had groggily woke up in the morning with Steve already under him, a welcome pillow reassuringly full of life.

“Steve left around spring and then summer came on pretty quickly. I, uh, maybe embarrassed myself a few times by seeing him at Scoops.”

“His butt looked very good in those blue shorts,” El agrees.

“Thank you! You get it,” Eddie gestures to her in gratitude, not having had a chance to tell anyone how much he had drooled over Steve that summer. He’d almost spilled the beans to Jeff once or twice, but kept silent in case of the butterflies. Still, a piece of art like that needs to be shared to be properly appreciated.

El nods solemnly and Eddie waves his hand to shake away thoughts of Steve in those tube socks, “Okay. So, Steve’s truly atrocious birthday party with the Russians came and went, but I wanted to get him a gift for when he returned. I saw his past self at the bookstore and he helped me pick out his own present—which was a gas, I’ll tell you—then the next morning he turned up out of nowhere.”

She stretches out her hand and the wall shimmers, showing their trailer living room as Steve lands in the middle of the night. This must be by the time that Wayne had started staying over at Catherine’s because the couch is folded in and there’s no sign of his uncle. Steve has a similar suspicion because he glances at the empty seat before checking through the window, snickering as he sees Wayne’s truck parked outside.

Still, he creeps quietly through the trailer, softly opening the bedroom door to keep from waking Past Eddie, a silent lump under the covers. The moon shining through the window illuminates enough of the area for Steve to check the calendar for the day’s date while he flips back to make sure that the last time he left is as he remembered it.

Steve sighs, face screwing up as he realises that the reason why Past Eddie had ‘just’ been crying was likely because he’d failed senior year again.

It’s an odd feeling for Eddie, despite reassuring Steve minutes ago on this very matter, knowing that he’ll forget these moments in the abyss as soon as he lands back in his present.

Steve walks over to the side of the bed, sitting down to lovingly stroke a hand down Past Eddie’s hair. He pulls it off enough to see his sleeping face, fondly smiling at his open mouth and, Eddie is mortified to see, a pool of drool under it.

“Oh, we can skip right past this, kid. Fast forward, fast forward,” he urges.

El’s snicker sounds like an echo of Steve’s a moment ago and she flicks her hand, speeding time onwards. Eddie draws a hand down his face in embarrassment; by the end of all this he’ll have no dignity or mystique. Truly, what does Steve see in him?

As he looks back up, he can’t help but smile as Steve unnecessarily defends Past Eddie over green pancakes, Wayne eventually leaning back to give his oblique blessing to their relationship.

The images blur, dipping shortly after to shifting shadows in the trailer. Eddie hurriedly slaps his hands over El’s eyes as a naked Steve strides, upset, out into the empty night, Past Eddie following closely behind and just as nude.

El pouts, “You know that this is all made possible through my mind. I could see that butt if I really wanted to.”

“There’s such a thing as consent, Gandalf,” Eddie scolds, “and you don’t have mine or Steve’s, fast forward.”

He can practically feel her eyes roll under his palms and, for all her power, Eddie is reminded that she is still a teenage girl.

The scenes speed up and he drops his hands: Steve prepares lunch bags and hands them to him and Wayne, another time he greets Past Eddie home from school with a robust kiss, and finally, the scenes slow on a day that fills Eddie with uneasiness, watching Steve spoon out dough onto the baking tray.

Past Eddie flees the trailer in his Garfield slippers to deliver carrot cookies to Max and eventually returns, Wayne has left and Steve comes to sit on the couch with Past Eddie at his feet. At the familiar scene, Eddie’s heart starts to thump, dreading what he’s about to see.

El flicks her hand and the scene pauses but she grunts in surprise as it skips like a needle over a scratched record. Pushing her outstretched hand out harder she frowns at Steve as he touches Past Eddie’s shoulder, moving slow as molasses.

“Baby, I’m feeling weird,” Steve says in a voice distorted like he’s underwater. El hisses as she struggles to step backward with her curled hand, arm shaking as she tries to bring it to her chest.

Eddie grinds his teeth while watching his past self’s face contort in horror as Steve fades for the first time, frame becoming ghostly as Past Eddie reaches through his body. The vision freezes before disappearing from the abyss.

Steve sits in the water, as he had on the couch.

He blinks, looking dazed like the day Eddie had found him with a concussion on the bathroom floor of Hawkins High. Eddie rushes over to him, skidding to his knees in the water that leaves his jeans dry and patting his hands over Steve’s body to make sure that he’s come through the trip in one piece.

“Are you okay?” Eddie asks frantically, still searching as Steve rests a steadying hand on his shoulder.

“I’m—” Steve’s words are cut off as he is pushed forward even while seated and he disappears in a blip.

“Fuck!” Eddie drops to his backside, the meat of his palms pressed hard against his eyes, trying to slow his pounding pulse and the sick feeling in his stomach. It hadn’t been any easier to watch from the other side.

“Eddie?” El’s voice reaches out to him tentatively and she hovers over him looking regretful. Eddie swallows it down, pushes it away to be unpacked at a later time because it is not useful right now. He can’t have El freaking out over his freak out.

“It’s okay,” he rasps, smiling unsteadily but trying nonetheless. “Are you okay?”

She nods and he’s relieved to see that although a little pale, she’s not bleeding from the nose like last time and she seems otherwise okay. “I’m sorry, I don’t know what happened, but he fell out of my control.” She frowns, contemplating the wall, “Maybe I was too confident and chose the wrong time.”

“Do you really think that?” he asks doubtfully. Although the task is clearly not a walk in the path, El has been in control. She shrugs and looks back at the wall; what she sees Eddie can’t know, but he trusts in El, he knows that whatever happened isn’t her fault.

“It’s because he’s getting further away, isn’t it?” he guesses.

“It is harder,” she agrees simply. “Tell me about the next time.”

Eddie tiredly rubs his forehead, “I don’t… I don’t think I can watch him turn up after that. My past self will cry and then I’ll cry and it’ll be a whole thing, kid,” he tries to joke, but El smiles sadly at him and he realises he’s doing a pretty poor job of supporting the muscle.

“He appeared like an hour or two after he left, just blipped right back to falling onto the trailer floor,” he sighs as he crouches, trailing his hands through the water in curiosity before standing fully. “I was a mess and he looked after me.”

The wall starts to shimmer, but Eddie keeps his gaze trained on the rippling floor for a long moment, only looking up in time to see the images stutter. A violent jerking that almost stops before returning to normal speed. Steve stands by the window at night, drawing Past Eddie’s back to his front in a reverse hug as he asks him to stop dealing at the trailer.

In that position, his past self can’t see the lines of Steve’s face settle into resolve, saying, “Maybe only have friends come over from now on? Not even friends of friends.”

Past Eddie relents and behind him Steve’s eyes close as if he’s in pain, “I’m just worried about you. What if I’m not here? You could let anything in.”

The image unexpectedly skips without the usual blurring and now Past Eddie anxiously kneels over Steve in their bed, the shadows of night yielding to show him violently tossing and turning, in the throes of a nightmare.

“Dustin,” Steve moans in his sleep, “you have to leave… We have to…” He whimpers and Eddie can see tears building in his past self’s eyes at Steve’s distress.

“Go!” Steve screams in a whisper, eyes flying open. The scene jumps back and forth and El grunts, pausing the moment and pulling Steve through with a heavy gait backwards.

Steve lays in the water of the abyss, sitting up quickly as he sees El. “Supergirl? Where am I?” he asks her before his eyes widen at the sight of Eddie next to her.

“Eddie?” he mouths silently, turning pale in shock. “What are you—” Steve cuts himself off, shaking his head in confusion before slowly standing up. “No, of course you’re here.”

Eddie frowns at the uncertainty writ across his face, reminded of Steve’s confused episodes in the new year. “Steve, tell me what’s going on in your noodle, sweetheart.”

Steve reaches out to Eddie, fingers hovering over the bottom edge of his vest where two embroidered pictures lay, one of a black, spindly leg breaking out of a grey cocoon and another of an orange butterfly in glorious flight. “Everything’s… everything’s wrong.”

Eddie takes Steve’s trembling fingers with his own, pressing them tight, “You’re in the abyss, baby, going through time. It’s not exactly right, either.”

“No,” Steve shakes his head, pulling away, “you don’t understand. It’s like I’m seeing double.”

He squints at Eddie like he’s trying to reconcile what he sees in front of him. “You were never at Scoops.” El and Eddie exchange worried glances as Steve shakes his head like a dog getting water out of its ears, “Or maybe there was one time. But this time, I wanted to be the one to serve you. I pushed Robin out of the way and took over the line.”

Eddie reels backwards, feeling the shock of Steve’s revelation like a physical shove, “The timeline was changed at Starcourt? But why? If I visited that first time anyway then that means it was your past self’s decision to change what had already happened. That doesn’t make sense.” He can see El’s arm start to shake and she calls his name warningly.

“I never followed you either,” Steve continues, staring at them with wide eyes filled with dawning horror. "That second time: you never came back and I never smoked with you in the parking lot. Eddie, I’m changing the past. I’m fucking with the timeline.”

He scrambles forward and desperately grabs Eddie’s hands, “Is Max okay? Are Robin and Dustin? Did everyone make it?”

Steve falls suddenly as if pushed forward, dropping Eddie and blipping out, leaving only horrified silence in his wake. Eddie hastily turns to El, “Quick, we have to go to the next one,” but she’s already got her hand out and Eddie scrambles to organise his thoughts.

“Right, the seventh visit, he was gone for nearly a month this time. Wayne was really worried too, he could see that I was freaked out about Steve disappearing, even if he didn’t exactly know why. But he came back just in time for Christmas.”

The wall shimmers open and Steve falls face-first to the trailer floor. He doesn’t move immediately, simply lying there and breathing for a few minutes. Eddie can’t see his face well enough to tell whether he’s awake or whether he landed unconscious, and worry rips through him that Steve could be lying there, hurt and knocked out.

Eventually, he makes a sound, rolling over onto his back gingerly and looking tired. Steve slowly rises, blinking at the trailer around him and looking confused before he shakes his head, murmuring, “You’re at Eddie’s. This is Eddie’s place, in the past.” His gait is slow and tentative as he walks into their bedroom, checking the calendar pinned to the wall.

“The end of ‘85,” he says like he’s reminding himself.

“What is going on, El?” Eddie asks, turning to her with eyes wide from fear. “Something’s wrong with him.”

Her own gaze looks close to how he feels and it causes a lump of dread to build in his throat. “It is getting thinner or he is getting thinner. I am not sure. But he is right: time is changing around him and some of that change is slipping through the cracks.” 

“We have to get him out,” Eddie urges, “can you skip through to the next blip.”

El turns back and the images fly, Eddie sees a glimpse of a Christmas tree and then a celebration of fireworks on the television. Wayne, Past Eddie and Steve celebrate in the living room together, waiting for midnight.

“I’ll get it,” Steve calls as he walks away, “we can mark off the old year together.”

He walks into the bedroom, unpinning the calendar and has turned back towards the door when the scene jumps, stuttering back and forth while El struggles to close her pinching fingers. Sweat beads on her brow as she determinedly steps back, towing Steve into the abyss.

“Fuck,” Steve breathes, his hands falling to his knees as he bends at the waist, inhaling and exhaling carefully like he’s about to vomit. He glances up and, seeing Eddie, he blanches. “You’re alive,” he says in astonishment. “You made it out of the Upside Down? How? The bats tore into you and there was so much blood. I don’t understand—” Steve’s eyes widen as he pitches forward once more.

“El…” Eddie calls, dread clutching hard at his lungs.

“Tell me, Eddie,” she urges. “The eighth time.”

Eddie paces, hands tugging at his hair as he tries to make himself concentrate. “He was unwell, had been for months but it got worse. He kept forgetting where he was and was saying stuff about not belonging there. Not in the right place or time,” Eddie says with dawning realisation. “He’s bleeding through, isn’t he? You said that something was getting through the cracks: it’s us in the abyss. He knows that something is wrong and he’s starting to realise that when he blips back.”

With her hand outstretched, El concentrates on the blurring wall, “He cannot remember properly but, at the same time, he knows that time has changed and is changing. The original timeline is bleeding through to his memories as it happens.”

On the vision over the wall, Steve staggers away from Wayne and Eddie in the trailer, turning to walk out the front door before Past Eddie calls out, “Wait! You— you said that Jonathon was coming down from California.”

His past self continues to coax Steve towards him with his lies and places a hand on Steve’s arm to guide him back inside. Steve falters, “Eddie? Baby? What’s going on?”

The scene freezes and El grunts, gritting her teeth and trying to walk backwards. She struggles like the weight has become too much and Eddie scrambles behind her, locking his arm around her waist and adding his strength by pulling with her. It’s like trying to drag a concrete block through water, heaving back inch by inch until Steve finally stands in front of them in the abyss.

He blinks at them, Eddie still behind El and the lines of his face settle into a hard determination. “I’m going to save you,” Steve says, staring Eddie in the eyes. “I won’t know how or why, but I’ll know that I can. Don’t worry, I’ll save you.” He glances back like he can sense the wall El has been using and Eddie has enough seconds to call his name before Steve reels forward, disappearing.

“The ninth time,” El prompts breathlessly, a line of bright red blood dripping beneath her nose and Eddie shakes himself out of his shock.

“It was spring break; I’d just finished stitching Steve’s wounds and I was taking a smoke break when he came back for the final visit.”

El pulls up the wall, images shimmering into a Past Eddie on the couch, watching placidly as Steve finally falls onto the mattress. “Welcome, sweetheart,” he says tiredly. Steve staggers onto his feet, shaky but unhesitating as he delves into the nearby closet, pulling out the thick tactical vest and demanding that Eddie wear it when they battle Vecna.

Past Eddie questions Steve’s newfound decision to change events in the timeline and Steve frowns, “All I know, is that I need to do something. Something more and this is a part of that.”

Together they move to the door, distress visibly pulling at Past Eddie as Steve’s goodbye increasingly sounds like a final farewell.

Steve holds Past Eddie by the nape of his neck, forcing him to meet his earnest and intent gaze, “I would do it again and again. If I end up in a time loop and fall back on this carpet in September 1984 once more, having forgotten everything then that is okay. I will loop forever in these two years, happily, because it means that I’ll be spending eternity with you.”

Past Eddie leaves and Steve exhales in an uneven shudder, falling forward to unsteadily lean against the trailer wall. The arm propping his body up abruptly folds as if he is too weak to support himself any longer, and he only narrowly avoids hitting his head by quickly turning, sliding with his back against the wall until he sits on the floor with his face turned up to stare at the gate.

He sighs and closes his eyes.

Mouth full of coppery fear, Eddie refuses to acknowledge how defeated Steve appears, as if he has surrendered his life, crumbling like a sandcastle against the tide. El’s fingers pinch close and Eddie drags her back with his arm around her waist, they strain, gritting against the pull as they step back inch by inch until Steve sits in the twilight water.

He opens his eyes and looks at Eddie. “I did it, you’re alive,” he breathes with satisfaction before blinking out of existence. No longer pushed forward by an invisible hand but gone like an exhalation in the dark. All traces of him erased and gone into nothingness.

 

 

 

Notes:

I'm over at Tumblr with the same name if you ever want to say a-hoy hoy, maybe yell at me about Copper Boy ~whatever floats your boat 💚

Chapter 37: The Beginning: Part III

Summary:

Last chapter, El brought Steve into the abyss from all nine visits only for him to disappear at the last second, seemingly gone for good but satisfied that he has saved Eddie from dying in his timeline.

This chapter, Eddie desperately tries to save Steve who is determined to sacrifice himself to ensure Eddie survives the Upside Down.

“Steve!” Eddie screams into the dark abyss, stepping forward to where Steve had sat in the twilight water before blinking out of existence. He whips his head to El, “Why didn’t he fall forward like usual?”

She shakes her head, mouth open in shock, “That should have been the last time. He should not have blipped.”

“But he didn’t! Not properly, anyway,” Eddie paces back and forth, hands tugging at his hair. “It should have looked like someone pushed him forward, that’s how we know he’s going on to the next blip, but he just disappeared as he sat there.”

El stretches her hand out cautiously, the tips of her fingers waggling slightly like she’s feeling the texture of the space in front of her. “He is no longer in the river, so Time does not need to force him out anymore.”

“Shouldn’t that be a good thing? It’s not trying to burn him out of its system like a germ, he’s no longer an infection in its body. If he’s not being shoved around then he should have just stayed where he was — here. You brought him out of Time for good; that he blipped makes no sense!”

Her hand drops, “But Time is not the only force that is guiding Steve through the river.”

“Yeah, we know that you’re causing the blips.”

“No,” she shakes her head, “I did not send him back in time, nor have I demanded that he complete the full journey. I only helped to skip him along.”

She squints beyond them, “And I was allowed to do that because he was not needed during those particular moments in space or time.”

Eddie growls, not fully understanding. “So there’s you, there’s Time, and there’s this mystery force that’s more powerful than you all, but none of that helps us if we don’t know where he is. Please, El. Please. Just look or listen or feel, whatever it is that you do: search for him.”

He strides over to where he thinks the wall usually is, gesturing at it. “Do you want my memories? I don’t exactly have the tenth blip to tell you about, but maybe we can retry with the ninth visit.”

“The tenth blip,” she says slowly, mulling over her words like she’s whittling away at wood, finding the figure beneath it. “I don’t need your memories, and I don’t need to work so hard to draw Steve out because he is no longer in the river.”

She smiles, “I can rely on my own memory.”

El draws up her hand, outstretching the palm with no sign of her body shaking. The wall opens, shimmering until an image of Steve is unveiled: he is sitting in the twilight water of the abyss, wearing the clothes from his ninth visit.

“Uh, El? That’s not from his time at the trailer or in the past, that’s from a moment ago,” Eddie says in confusion.

“Exactly,” El says with satisfaction. “He is no longer in the river, he is here in the abyss, and he is closer to me than he has ever been. This is the perfect moment to pull him through to us. Permanently.”

She confidently steps back to pull Steve through the vision but other than a slight juddering of the scene, Steve stays where he sits.

Eddie half steps towards her, “Do you need me to help drag you back again?”

She shakes her head, frowning while stepping back easily with her extended arm. The shimmering shakes, but nothing again. “No, he is close to me so he doesn’t drag as heavily, but he’s refusing to come.”

Eddie looks down at Steve’s still frame, gaze confidently staring ahead as if he is still looking at Eddie, saying that he had succeeded in saving him. “He doesn’t look like he’s aware of anything, Gandalf; he’s frozen in the scene.”

“Look,” she says, moving back with her pinched fingers and the wall ripples and shakes, and Steve judders and distorts, but he doesn’t move forward. “I can pull him out, but he refuses.”

“Can he…” Eddie trails off thinking that his question is weird and unlikely but determines to ask since being in an unending universe playing with time is inherently odd anyway. “Can he hear us?”

El shrugs, “Maybe?”

Eddie stares down at Steve. He still looks so satisfied. Despite the hollows of his cheeks and the dark smudges under his eyes, he shines with the energy of accomplishment, or a hero returning triumphant from slaying the Goliath to his David.

Understanding suddenly spreads through Eddie. “He thinks he needs to stay here,” he breathes. “He thinks he’s saving my life right here, in this moment.” The wall ripples but otherwise no other change occurs.

Eddie kneels so that he’s sitting next to Steve, the two of them together in the water that is always dry. He wishes that he could take his hand, but this has to do for now. “Sweetheart? I know you think you need to be there, saving me, but you’ve done it.” Eddie’s heart skips a beat when the wall responds to his voice, a strong shudder of waves against the surface.

“I need you to try for me, Steve. Because you’ve done it: you saved me.” Steve’s body jitters, his head almost turning to Eddie before it snaps back into its stationary position.

Eddie licks his lips, mouth dry, “That’s it. It’s okay, sweetheart, come back to me. Because you’ve done…”

The knowledge of how much Steve has likely done makes his breath shudder out of his lungs, cutting Eddie off before he completes his sentence, but he takes a deep breath, inhaling and then exhaling before starting once more.

“You did a great job. I’m alive. Robin and Dustin and Max — we all survived, sweetheart, and you made it happen.”

Steve’s head jolts to look at Eddie, his hand twitching before falling back to stillness. Eddie grits his teeth and continues telling Steve his desperate truth, “You’ve done your job and now I need you to come home to me, baby. My springtime boy, my beautiful Persephone. I need you to come to me because I love you and I don’t want to be in winter anymore. Let go and take my hand, Steve.”

Steve’s body remains unnaturally motionless, but his head jitters again, tilting uncannily to the side to consider Eddie. “I can come home?”

Eddie nods fervently, refusing to look at El because he doesn’t care what she says, what the time river or whatever the hell caused Steve to blip back in time says, Steve is coming home with him today, right fucking now. “Yes, you’re coming home, sweetheart. Take my hand.”

Steve’s body follows his head and starts to move naturally, eyes blinking and chest rising and falling rhythmically. He reaches out his hand to take Eddie’s proffered one, “Okay.”

Eddie pulls him up, sweeping him into his arms and holding tight to make sure that nothing, not time or any blip can take him away. He’s a solid weight and warmth in his embrace, but Steve pulls back, hands rising to frame Eddie’s face and expression breaking into clear relief, “I did it, then? You’re alive this time?”

Eddie nods, unsure about what Steve means exactly, but he knows the result. “We all are. I don’t know what changed in the timeline, but I’m okay and so are the rest of the fellowship.”

He turns to El, “We’re taking him home. Now.” He tries to sound firm but his heart sinks as her face twists into a clear negative.

“Not yet, no.” She tilts her head and circles Steve, running her eyes over him from top to bottom. Eddie’s reminded of himself doing a similar action as he checked Steve for signs of bleeding or injuries during his third visit.

Suddenly she cocks her head as if she hears something, just as Steve shakes his head like he’s tipping water out of his ear. He looks up suddenly, staring at Eddie with wide eyes, “You were going to die, but I stopped it. Or maybe it’s that you did die, but I changed it.”

“You did,” El says, understanding dawning across her face. “Because of the first time.”

Eddie shifts nervously on his feet, “El, what’s going on?”

“Steve,” she regards him with old eyes, “I need you to tell me about the first time you travelled through time. To reach you and pull you through permanently, I need to start from the beginning.”

He frowns, “Uh, okay. I fell and Eddie was there, but he was okay, and his hair was shorter, so I knew something was wrong.”

“No,” El shakes her head, “before that. Just before you fell.”

Steve’s mouth parts in understanding, “When I was in the Upside Down?”

“Yes.”

Eddie’s eyebrows fly up, not having considered Steve going through the gate as a part of his visits, but of course it would be. Without it, Steve never would have travelled to land on his carpet in 1984.

“Tell it like it’s a story from your memories,” Eddie advises him, “that’s what I’ve been doing and it helps El connect with whatever she does to find it in the time river.” He looks at her uncertainly, “Right?”

She smiles indulgently, “Something like that.”

Steve’s cheeks expand as he blows out a breath and his hands settle on his hips, pacing a short distance and back in the bright darkness. “Okay. Well, we’d just blown up Vecna in his hide-out at the Upside Down version of the Creel house. His body had crumpled into black dust, so we knew that he was kaput.”

El’s arm stretches out and her palm flexes at the shimmering portal that is starting to open on their black wall.

Past Steve, Robin and Nancy tumble out of the decrepit entrance of Vecna’s childhood home and they hurry to Erica’s lookout point on the other side. Nancy picks up the lantern they had left next to it and flashes its light. Nothing happens.

“We should get moving,” she says reluctantly. “We can find out once we go back through the gate.”

“Just one more time,” Robin wheedles, “I want to know that they’re okay.” Nancy relents and they wait another couple of minutes before flashing the lantern again.

“We did it,” Erica’s voice ripples through dimensions, distorted like it’s underwater but she shouts so they can hear her. “El did it. Max… okay. Vecna’s dead.”

El smiles, "This is the current timeline. The one we remember."

Steve whoops and scoops Robin into his arms, twirling her in the air until she jumps out and hugs Nancy in turn. Nancy startles like she hadn’t been expecting the physical touch, but leans into it, hugging Robin back. Steve squints at Robin over Nancy’s turned shoulder and she winks back at him with a raised brow. He shrugs with a smile.

“Huh,” Eddie says, realising that he’s not misread Robin’s signals around Nancy, but he’s surprised that Steve doesn’t seem to have a problem with his best friend having a thing for his ex-girlfriend.

Steve makes a face at him, correctly interpreting his expression, “I told you that I was over Nance.”

“Yeah, I believed you,” Eddie protests, “I just hadn’t expected you to be cool with…” He gestures to the girls as the three figures start walking back through the woods towards Forrest Hills.

Steve shrugs as El speeds up the vision, “As long as Robin’s happy, I’m willing to swallow any awkwardness. Anyway, I can give her the inside scoop, especially that thing that Nance likes—”

“Nope!” Eddie holds a commanding finger up to Steve’s grinning face. “Nope, keep it between you and the platonic soulmate, I do not need to know.”

Steve’s chuckle is interrupted as the visions notably skip, the picture of Past Steve, Robin and Nancy joining Eddie and Dustin, waiting at the trailer, minorly injured but otherwise okay before it flips back to the three of them again, now walking on the path back and looking far more tired and dispirited.

Steve frowns at the jumping images, “I sort of do and don’t remember this: I think I was getting confused at points, but everything’s muddied in my head.”

“Time changed around you, but only you knew about it because you were the one to make it happen. Look,” El points with her other hand, “you get distracted every time the vision skips. It’s because they’re the moments that were starting to change.”

The vision wavers in and out as they watch. One moment the group walk past the Hillside playground, exhausted but laughing, sharing the highlights, but then they near the entrance of Forrest Hills and the scene skips, the bodies moving stilted and unnatural. Standing or crouched in one spot, huddled over a fallen body.

Eddie gasps at seeing a version of himself lying on the barren ground, his torso savaged, teeth bloodied and eyes emptily staring up at the crimson flashing sky. Dustin sobs over his dead body, rocking back and forth with his fingers clenched in the open leather jacket, the vest is nowhere to be seen.

“Oh shit, I remember,” Steve whispers next to him, voice broken.

Past Steve's eyes are glassy and he pinches the bridge of his nose like he's trying to hold back tears. "Dustin..." He starts but the earth shudders, moving under their feet and causing them to almost fall over.

"Oh no. Max." Nancy looks around as if she expects Vecna to appear at any moment, “That's why Erica wasn't answering on the other side."

“We only tried once that time, but…” Steve trails off and Eddie completes the sentence, “If Max had been taken by Vecna then Erica wouldn’t have been responding anyway.”

He grimly nods.

"He got her," Robin whispers, distress clear across her face.

Nancy blanches, "The gates are connecting then. He's ripping Hawkins apart like tissue paper." She reflexively faces back to the trailer, "Mom. Holly. We have to go, everyone is in danger. So many people…" She turns to Past Steve, "They're all going to die. We have to go."

"Not without Eddie," Dustin shouts, "we can't leave him here."

"Dustin…" Past Steve says in a quiet voice as he crouches down, wincing at his injuries, but avoiding looking at Eddie's body while he takes back Dustin's attention, "You have to leave him here. Just for now, we'll come back I promise but we need to move—"

The ground shakes and Dustin falls over, hands pulled away from its clutch on Eddie. "No," he stubbornly grits out, "we can't. You can take him, Steve. You're strong."

Past Steve's face twists in regret, "I can't, I'm sorry, Dustin, but I can't. Between the bats and the vines, I've barely got anything in the tank, and I don't think I can stretch a—" He swallows, "I can't push a dead weight against gravity right now, and we don't have enough time to rig something up to help. We have to—"

The ground shudders again; a crack echoes loudly and snakes against the ground, parting the earth. Past Steve's eyes widen in alarm and he pulls Dustin up, pushing him forward. "Go," he yells, but Dustin stumbles on his hurt leg.

Robin and Past Steve pick Dustin up from under his armpits, dragging him with them as they all run, sprinting away from the opening maw chasing them almost to Eddie’s front door. It stops before breaking the trailer, giving them enough time to climb against the new rope of linen that Dustin had made. Past Steve is the last to climb; a moment before he touches the portal he closes his eyes, face twisting in pain as he looks over his shoulder.

It's not visible through this angle, but Eddie knows that Steve is imagining his dead body through the open trailer door.

Steve's jaw clenches and he shakes his head, eyes glassy but already moving up to the open gate. He reaches out and disappears in a blip.

There's just enough time to hear Robin scream out Steve's name before El flicks her hand; the image freezes on the red portal, with no Past Steve in sight.

"You wanted to take me with you," Eddie says.

"I wanted to save you," Steve corrects, shoulders weighted down and sadness etched across his frame.

"You wanted it very badly," El says, relaxed hands down by her side. "And the Upside Down heard you. It was strong, Steve. As strong as Will wanting a familiar home to shelter in back in 1983, even as strong as Henry wanting creatures to hide his loneliness. The Upside Down heard you and she created it for you, deep in the blood and membranes of her skin, so that when you touched the gate she could make it happen for you."

"The Upside Down took me back in time?"

"The Upside Down has a gender?"

Eddie and Steve look at each other, startled at having spoken over one another and El ignores the latter question. "Yes, and it worked. Eddie is here, alive."

“Did you already love me?" Eddie doesn't understand how else he could wish for something so deeply otherwise.

Steve shakes his head softly, "I barely knew you. We never talked like we did this time around. I certainly never flirted with you at Scoops, and you weren't at the bookstore when I was trying to figure out what to do about Max."

He runs a hand over his face in regret, "I warned Dustin that you may have killed Chrissy when we were trying to find you. I only knew you as the metalhead guy at school that Tommy bought from."

"Then how? People have died before," Eddie says gently, not in reproach but simply trying to understand, "how was this different?"

"He was in the Upside Down," El says, "which was the main difference, but it was not all, right Steve?"

Steve huffs out a quiet laugh, eyeing El. "You really do see all, don't you Supergirl?"

He glances back at Eddie, face softening, "It wasn't that alone. You know, in this version, I hadn't told Robin yet that I was queer. I think she knew; we'd talked around it using her crush on Vicki as a placeholder — who I'm still convinced is bisexual, by the way." Eddie nods, having heard the rant about Fast Times at Ridgemont High before.

"And it was really bad timing, like stupid bad, but, uh, finally talking to you. Properly. And seeing you with the kids, it made that box in the basement rattle pretty hard."

"You fell for me," Eddie softly teases, a smile working its way across his face.

Steve rolls his eyes but tugs Eddie's hand into his, "I wouldn't go that far. But maybe, pretty close."

He sighs, looking at the shimmering wall, "It killed me, leaving you behind. I could hear Dustin crying through the gate and a part of my mind was stuck on the knowledge that Max was dead." He blows out a breath, shaking out the grief and horror that clings to his memories, "It all rolled into a heavy dose of…" He stops, struggling to find the words.

"Regret?" Eddie tries.

"To say the least," Steve says, squeezing his hand.

"Like I said, you wanted a different outcome, and you wanted it very badly, Steve. Enough that the world shifted and answered your call."

"Christ," Steve looks at El, amazed. "So I did it to myself, in a way. I made myself travel back in time."

“And you need to again,” she says, arm extending.

“What?” Eddie says a moment before Steve blips out of the abyss, but the shimmering wall stays open and the scene jitters back until Steve is standing alone in the Upside Down trailer again, dithering as he frowns at the linen rope.

He looks different from the timeline they'd just watched, body moving easier and with dirt smudged in different places, in a pattern that Eddie had noted during his first visit.

“This is my version, isn't it? The one I remember.”

“Yes,” El confirms, carefully watching Steve’s movements.

They hear Robin yell, “Hey dingus, get a move on!”

At Robin’s voice, Steve looks sharply up at the gate above him where the rest of them wait on the other side. Shock and understanding ripples over his features before he suddenly breaks into a broad, relieved smile.

“He knows,” Eddie murmurs in amazement, watching his Steve during the event that’s about to change history.

“Yes, he’s from our time, from when I pulled him through the ninth visit in the abyss. He knows that for you to live, he must approach the portal with the deep desire to save you by falling back in time once more.”

“He’s making the same choice,” Eddie whispers as Steve eagerly jumps up the rope, pulling himself upwards and staring through the portal one last time.

Understanding blooms, a dreadful certainty spilling sickly inside Eddie. He urgently turns to El, “No, you have to stop him. He’s going to loop. He’ll be stuck falling back to ‘84 until he’s here again in the abyss, making the same choice, over and over. El, stop him!”

Steve tilts his head to look up at a tired and injured, but alive, Past Eddie, waiting on the other side and, grinning, he stretches his hand out to touch the portal, disappearing into his first blip.

Eddie falters, his lungs squeezing tight. Steve had said it: he'd said he'd live happily in those two years again and again, living with Eddie between blips in his own version of eternity.

“No,” he whispers.

He shakes his head desperately, “No! I can't lose him, El. Please! Please, we need to go back, we need to stop him before he goes through the portal for the first time.”

He stares brokenly at the open red maw, the room empty but for Robin's cries on the other side.

El’s hand moves and the scene pauses, Steve still gone and the rope in mid-swing. Stepping forward, she rests a kind hand against his cheek, “He made the right choice.”

He stares into her old eyes, seeing stars born and die in them. “I can't live without him,” he chokes out, feeling ashen and drawn like the barrenness of the Upside Down is spreading through him. A slow rot leaving him numb and empty of life.

She smiles mysteriously, “But you won't.”

Releasing him she turns back to the shimmering wall to show him the frozen vision of young Eddie in 1984 writing at his place at the coffee table, sitting on the trailer floor, hair to his shoulders with Steve’s body above him in the air, about to fall.

“I don't mean in the past, El,” Eddie grits out. “I mean now, after the ninth blip. Or just stop him from going; maybe things don't happen the same, maybe we don't fall in love. But I'll make my way to him, I know I will.”

“Eddie,” El says patiently, “trust me.”

Turning back to the frozen scene, she clenches her fingers and pulls, again an easy movement as she walks backwards. Steve’s body distorts and shakes until it appears in the abyss high above them and he finally falls, face down into the twilight water.

“Please let this be the last time I land on my nose,” Steve groans, before pushing himself up onto his hands and knees.

Eddie pulls him up with a trembling hand, heart just as shaky and shocked even while looking him over for any signs of injuries.

“It is the last time,” El confirms for Steve and they turn around to see her in front of the still-open wall. The scene is stationary with Past Eddie on the floor, but also Past Steve is still in the air above. Eddie looks between Steve in front of him and the Steve that suddenly drops to the trailer carpet at El’s flick of a wrist.

“Uh, shouldn’t he have blipped out since he’s here now?”

“No,” El says over the sound of Past Steve hissing in pain and clenching at his sides, “Christ!” he cries out. “Shitting Christ! Like a thousand fucking needles.”

“Oh,” Steve touches the sides of his torso with wonder, “you didn’t stitch me up in the first timeline.”

Eddie’s eyes widen in surprise, “Does that mean it happened all at once?”

“Yeah? I think?” Steve’s mouth drops open. “It was sort of like they were there when I fell through, but as soon as I landed they became real. Fuck, it felt like I was under a sewing machine.”

Eddie winces, “Sorry.”

“No, don’t be,” Steve smiles even as he frowns as he sorts through his memories, “It was a lot easier to move when we were fighting Vecna. And I think I had a low-grade fever the first time too since we never cleaned the cuts. I was fuzzier than I realised and nearly got us killed by stepping on a vine.”

“But is that okay?” Eddie gestures to an increasingly distraught-looking Past Steve as he stares up at the trailer ceiling where the gate should be. “How is he here and there at the same time?”

“He’s not the same person.” El gestures to the vision, “That’s Past Steve: he needs to visit Eddie and change history.”

She gestures to Steve standing next to them in the abyss, “And this is Present Steve, he is that Steve’s future and has already done what he needed to do. I just separated them at the right point.”

Eddie shakes his head, confused even while he keeps a firm grip on Steve. “Then why did he have to do it again?”

El hums thoughtfully, eyes dropping to his denim vest. “You like sewing. Mike showed me his vest and how to sew too, so think of it like the knot at the end. There were a lot of forces at play: me, Time, the Upside Down… Steve was being thrown around in the river, so he had to make the same choice. He had to knot it in place.”

El smiles in satisfaction, “Time is now flowing as it should, no more stutters.”

Eddie swallows around the shaky prayer stuck in his throat, “No more stutters? So, no more visions of the past, this is my Steve? I can take him home?”

“I’m not a dog at the pound,” Steve lightly complains despite his tense hold on Eddie.

“We’re taking you home, Steve,” El confirms and his head drops in relief, blowing out a long breath. Eddie takes him in his arms, allowing him to rest on his shoulder for a moment, giving him strength and shelter. Taking it in kind.

Steve clears his throat, mustering up a cheeky grin as he raises his head, “Then there’s no time like the present, right?”

Eddie groans, holding his hand out for El, who takes it, guiding them forward. “That was terrible.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, should I have made a movie-based pun about ice cream that I’m allergic to?” Steve bickers, following in their train through the abyss, made through clasped hands. “It doesn’t even make sense. Rocky is the name of the movie. Not Rocky Road.”

Eddie opens his eyes, sitting cross-legged next to a kneeling Steve beside him in the trailer, “Hey, it got me a boyfriend, didn’t it?”

“Steve!” Multiple voices call his name and too many bodies to count rush forward, jumping on him. Eddie sees a glimpse of Steve’s startled face before he goes under a dog pile of the kids, Nancy, and Robin. Wayne reaches out and grips Eddie’s shoulder, squeezing hard in relief.

Eddie smiles up at him, taking his hand to pull himself up and throwing his arm around the old man’s shoulder. “We brought him back.”

 

Chapter 38: A Copper and Gold Creation

Summary:

Last chapter, Steve sacrificed himself to the timeloop to save Eddie from being killed by the demo-bats, but Eddie determinedly brings him back as his anchor, and El reveals that Steve's original and devout wish to save Eddie was granted by the Upside Down, which sent him back in time.

Notes:

this chapter is dedicated to the readers who were with me every week, commenting and making me think about my writing choices. you made this story stronger and I always felt you cheering me on, thank you 💚

Steve looks up from the third PB&J he’s made himself, standing in the kitchen while everyone lounges or sits in various positions through the trailer, “Are you guys sure that you don’t want one? There’s plenty.”

Eddie presses a kiss against Steve’s shoulder as he slides the full glass of milk towards him, turning away to shelve the carton and relief making him almost lightheaded at Steve’s immediate hunger once he’d landed back from the abyss.

Eddie believed El, he did, as she had explained to the group that Steve is properly back and safe outside the time river, but having Steve move with energy, watching him wolf down his food like he’s been starving for months, makes the certainty settle that little bit deeper into his bones.

Robin shakes her head in a negative while staring at Steve; she’s not let him out of her sight since he’d appeared on the trailer floor. Not even as the kids cleaned up the mess of the kiddie pool and straightened the living room under Wayne’s exacting eye.

But her expression is more curious than watchful now, having mulled over their long explanation of Steve’s nine confusing visits in the abyss and then pulling him out after he chose to loop back to 1984. “But what I don’t understand is, what made you push me out of serving the line at Scoops?”

Erica clicks her tongue at her seat on the floor between Lucas and El, “She’s right. It doesn’t make sense for Past Steve to change the timeline when he had no reason to. If Future Steve was keeping out of sight and no one knew but Eddie and Wayne, then what made you change that event when you didn’t know any better?”

Steve frowns thoughtfully as he takes another bite, leaning into Eddie with his arm around his waist. Between the two of them, Robin hadn’t taken her eyes off of Steve and Eddie had rarely left him out of arms reach.

"Maybe it is like Max," El blithely suggests. "In the first timeline she stopped calling California and I was sad when Papa caught me. I was weaker and it took me longer to escape. In that timeline you did not know I was coming."

The room erupts, voices competing for El to tell them more about the differences. She smiles mysteriously, "I only know my life; it is not my place to know yours."

Erica looks sharply across the room, "But Steve knows his. Who else remembers?" Yet everyone shakes their head and some, like Dustin, look especially glum to not know the differences.

Steve takes another enthusiastic bite, seemingly done with his pondering. In the lull, he responds to the original question about Scoops. “It's 'cause I wanted to talk to Eddie.”

It's said like the answer is obvious, but Nancy presses, first grimacing at Steve's open mouth, “Yes, but why?”

“I wanted to see what he’d say. Like the last time we talked,” Steve admits coyly only to send a sly wink to Eddie. “And I maybe thought he looked cute.” Eddie smugly smiles, thinking of his attention to his outfit the next day.

Dustin shifts on the kitchen stool and clicks his fingers twice in a demanding manner, “The last time?”

Eddie hums thoughtfully, resting his head on Steve’s shoulders as he thinks, “That was at your place after I drove you home from school.” He notes the questioning look from the rest of the group and explains, “He had a concussion after Billy rang his bell over Halloween and I wasn’t going to let him drive in that condition.”

Max takes Lucas’s hand as he asks with a hint of dismay in his voice, “You got a concussion from that?”

Steve waves his hand dismissively as he shifts through his overlapping memories. He’d told them that he could easily recall all the events of the timeline they are currently in, but that the past he had changed—which they were calling the Alternate Timeline—was more like remembering a dream. Present, but softly formed and hard to grasp.

“That didn’t happen either, the first time round,” he says slowly.

“I didn’t take you to Nurse Morgan?” Eddie asks, surprised. He can’t imagine being callous enough to look at those wobbly eyes on the boys’ bathroom floor and not at least call for someone else to come and help Steve.

“No one did.”

Nancy winces next to Robin on the couch as Steve continues, “It’s sort of hard to remember—even on top of the wonky memories—but I was sick at school one minute and then I woke up the next day in bed, fully clothed.” He shrugs, taking another bite, “I probably drove myself home.”

Robin rolls her eyes at Eddie, and he nods to her in commiseration. Steve suspiciously intercepts their look, but ignores them to argue, “It’s not like Eddie was there to drive me home that time.”

Dustin smacks his hand against the counter, making Mike jump, “That’s the change then. It’s the milestone event that made your actions after that different.”

“Was it just that I was never in the bathroom?” Eddie wonders. “I was only there because I fought with Tommy, and I wanted to cool down.” Wayne nods at him approvingly and Eddie smiles to himself, the warmth of his uncle’s regard always welcome.

Steve’s expression turns dark at the reminder of Tommy's harassment, but Eddie hip-bumps him. Steve snaps out of it to shrug at them unapologetically. “There was someone there. I was throwing up in the toilet and I think someone knocked on the stall door? But I told them to piss off and that was that. They left.”

Steve sighs heavily in mock disbelief, turning to Eddie with a wicked look, “Can’t believe you left me on the floor, baby. Pregnant and vulnerable like that, who knew what could have happened to our bambino.”

Wayne rolls his eyes and Robin looks like she’s sniffing out a secret, but the kids exchange dubious glances in a way that has the gleam in Steve’s eyes sharpening.

Eddie ignores it, letting him have his fun while pensively drumming his fingers, “I nearly left,” he admits, sounding out his thought process at the time. “I was really close to doing it, but I’d been worried ever since you left behind that blood stain on my bed sheets—”

“Left behind what?” Mike exclaims.

Everyone looks over at him like they hadn’t expected him to care and Mike scowls, “I’m just saying: he was already travelling through time and if he was leaving behind blood stains then I would’ve been worried too.”

“Exactly! Thank you, grasshopper,” Eddie tries to channel his best Master Po, but Mike just rolls his eyes, leaning back on the palms of his hands on the floor.

Eddie squints at him in displeasure: kids these days have no appreciation for the classics. “Anyway, the blood had me worried—”

Steve groans, “It was one popped stitch.”

“It was a sign that you were hurt, Steve,” Eddie says reproachfully, unwilling to disallow the seriousness of being confronted by his injuries. “And how could I know if you were okay blipping in and out of time while also bleeding.”

Steve’s face softens and Eddie continues, “I was still angry from Tommy, but I was more worried about you, and then finding you on the floor throwing up only scared me more.”

“Awww,” Max croons sarcastically, even as a small smile graces her face.

“It is nice,” El agrees next to her, sweetly earnest.

Eddie snorts in memory, “Though for a second there, when I figured out that you were on your knees, I did think you were giving a blowjob in the Hawkins boys’ bathroom.” The kids groan loudly this time, but Robin cackles and sends him an air-high-five. He returns the gesture with a flourish.

Steve squints at him doubtfully, “And yet, you still thought I was straight until the condoms.” It’s Wayne’s turn to quietly chuckle and Mike’s mouth drops open, “The what?”

“They’re prophylactics, Mike,” Max says bitingly, “I hope you know that much before you even think of going near El.”

El glances over curiously, “Later?”

“I’ll tell you later,” Max promises but not before sending another scathing glare at Mike who turns a brilliant red under his mop of dark hair.

“You were Diktor and the time tourist rolled into one,” Eddie says out loud as he mulls it over. “You made yourself be the event that changed the future in the Upside Down, first by accident by wanting it badly enough and then again by willingly entering what you thought was a time loop.”

“I didn’t know for sure,” Steve protests, quickly looking away from Eddie’s sceptical expression when he counters with: “You thought you were going to loop over and over those two years forever, and you looked happy, you frustrating man.”

“I was going to save you,” Steve insists, “And that was worth it.”

Eddie ignores Steve’s protest because he can’t argue against the results, “You made the opportunity happen—to go back in time—and that sparked my interest in you. Leading to little moments where I chose to reach out to you that, in turn, led you to reach out back to me too.”

Eddie whistles at his realisation, a long and low sound of astonishment, “It wasn't just some stomped bug: you falling triggered a cascade of events that resulted in the current timeline.”

“You were more than just interested,” Steve smirks, a thread of darkness weaving in through his tone that has Eddie eyeing him appreciatively. It’s been a very long time since he’s properly had Steve in his arms.

“Gross,” Dustin groans in his seat directly across from them, looking moments away from despair. “This is like watching my two older brothers flirt; it’s borderline incestuous guys, can you quit it?” Robin boos him in the background, but Dustin flips her the bird behind his back.

Steve leans over, grasping Eddie by the chin and pressing a sweet kiss against his lips. “Never,” he murmurs, looking deeply into Eddie’s eyes so that he understands. Eddie smiles back.

Leaning back slightly, Steve looks over at Dustin unrepentantly, “Sorry, little brother.”

Dustin tries to hide his pleased smile as he clears his throat but then looks hurriedly away again as Eddie drapes his arms over Steve’s shoulders, drawing him in and welcoming his springtime boy home.

 

---

 

It’s evening by the time the kids pile into the Wheeler’s and Mrs Henderson’s car, Robin lingering by the porch in the dark. Moths flitter around the bulb above them, lighting the concern shadowing her features. “Are you sure you’re okay tonight?” she insists, like she’s not holding Nancy’s hand and clearly has her own set-up for later.

Steve draws her into his arms again; Eddie’s lost count of how many times they’ve hugged over the afternoon. He murmurs something into her ear and Robin wetly laughs, “Shut up. Okay, okay, I’ll leave you to it.” But she only hugs him tighter.

Eddie meets Nancy’s eyes over their embrace and, in it, they see a future of many farewells like this. She shrugs, smiling and he winks back: it’s not so bad at all.

Robin draws back, eyes red although she’s yet to cry, “So, the kids know now.”

Steve laughs, “Yeah, I think it was Eddie dipping me in that kiss that gave the game away.” Eddie lightly kicks him in the ankle, “You were a soldier returning from home, what future nurse would I be if I didn’t greet you properly?”

“I think you got the roles mixed up there, Eddie,” Robin laughs, letting go of Steve even as their hands remain clasped; he tugs her amiably before she observes, eyes keen on Steve's face, “They seemed okay.”

Eddie hums thoughtfully, leaning back against the trailer wall, “I think they’ve had some time to get used to the idea of us being together over the past few weeks.”

“Yes, you're not subtle,” says Nancy with a raised eyebrow in amusement.

“Dustin looked like he was going to puke,” Eddie wryly notes back, “but I think he’s a bit hooked on the whole brothers kissing thing. He’ll get over it.”

“It was nice, being out in the open,” Steve says, looking over at the squabbling teens in the car. Mike shouts something out the wound-down window over at Lucas sitting in Mrs Henderson’s Volkswagen, who throws him back a rude sign in retaliation.

“Not so bad?” Robin asks, gaze flickering over his eyes like she’s looking for Slippery Steve.

“Not so bad,” he agrees, stepping back to let her take Nancy’s hand again and immediately sliding his arm around Eddie’s waist.

Seeing what she needs in his expression, Robin nods and promises to be back the next day, leaving them for Nancy’s Chevy. Steve smiles into Eddie’s hair as he watches them go and contentment fills Eddie, a warm rosy gold at seeing the kids safe, at being at peace with Robin, and, most of all, having Steve finally here, home and no longer blipping.

The cars depart in a plume of roadside dirt, the two of them watching the red brake lights until they fade away, and Steve sighs serenely before turning to steer them back into the trailer. Inside, they hear Wayne turn on the nightly news.

Eddie stops him from opening the screen door with a tug before he enters, the cicadas calling loudly at their feet. A concern has started to niggle its way upwards, a small bubble in a pot that Eddie doesn’t want to overflow into a boil. “You’re free now,” he observes pointedly.

“I am,” Steve agrees, regarding him steadily under the warm light.

“Which means you’re not confined to the trailer, you can go anywhere you like,” Eddie reminds him. He knows that Steve knows this, but he needs confirmation from the man himself.

Steve smiles tenderly, bringing a hand up to stroke above Eddie’s cheekbone, “This is home, baby. And, even if we don’t live here at some point, it won’t matter, because wherever you are, is home.”

That contentment returns, filling him to the fingertips and pressing against his skin. “Well then,” Eddie draws back the door with a flourishing bow, “your home awaits.” Steve laughs softly and Eddie happily follows behind.

 

---

 

Despite home being firmly back at Forrest Hills, Eddie takes Steve back to Loch Nora as soon as the next day. The Harrington house is a drab grey, large and cavernous looking from the outside, with rounded shrubs that Eddie still thinks look like balls.

Steve eyes him as he rounds the van with folded cardboard boxes under one arm, warning, “Don’t say it.”

Eddie snickers, swinging the ghoul figurine in his hand with palms raised in defeat.

His maroon BMW is parked outside and Steve runs an appreciative hand over its roof as they walk past, “Hey, baby,” he croons, but leaves it behind to climb the dais at the double front doors.

“I’m not sure how I feel about having the same nickname as your car,” Eddie says even as he rolls his eyes at the very obviously fake rock that Steve picks up from behind the cement planters.

Inserting the spare key to open the door, Steve walks backwards with a sly grin, mischievously crooning at Eddie too, “And they’re both beauties, my babies.” Eddie shakes his head but follows across the threshold, sure that he has a light dusting of red across his cheeks at the honesty that was threaded through those teasing words.

But Steve stops in the entrance hall, looking at the same mustard-coloured phone on the sideboard, the uninteresting lighthouse landscape on one wall and the painting of the disembodied yellow body offering an avocado on the other. Eddie pauses beside him so that their shoulders touch, leaning in subtly.

“Nothing’s changed,” Steve says, voice odd. He shakes his head, “Not that it should be. I’ve been gone, what? A few weeks at most?”

“But it feels like a lifetime?” Eddie ventures and Steve nods, trailing a finger over the notepad by the phone; it's wide and blank, fitting the cold atmosphere of the place Steve once called home. 

“I feel like a completely different person from the last time I was here.” He looks up, eyes shaded. “I know I wasn’t technically blipped ‘in’ for the whole two years, but it feels like I was. I feel decades removed from here, like I’ve come back to my childhood home.”

“Is that such a bad thing?” Eddie asks.

“I suppose not,” Steve shakes his head, trailing the finger over the answering machine with the wooden panel. He presses play and a woman’s voice sounds, “Steven, we’ll be home by Friday for the weekend. Marcia Steger is hosting a soiree on Saturday; we expect that you will be there.” The tone sounds a long lonely beep without further fanfare.

Steve huffs out a laugh, glancing over with suggested humour, but he looks sad to Eddie. “I forgot to erase the message because Vecna had just started and Saturday was when we found you. I didn’t come back until late and then I was up early making lasagna, so I didn’t see them.”

Eddie runs a comforting hand over his back, “It was a great lasagna. Nearly made me cry to have something so familiar from you back in the midst of all that.”

The bulb on the machine continues to blink red and Steve presses the next message with a click. “Steven,” his mother crisply starts, “we are very disappointed that you disappeared on us; Marcia has a lovely girl attending Purdue and you have an opportunity to take her out once you start working at your father’s office. I don’t know when we will be back next.”

Eddie’s eyebrows have climbed in astonishment, “Father’s office?”

“It’s not happening,” Steve sighs at the bulb that no longer pulses, pulling open the drawer and removing the spare key for his car. “It’s been a month and that’s it. They don’t even know that I haven’t been here, let alone everything else.”

He rests his head on Eddie’s shoulder, staring down at the machine like his mother will suddenly call. Eddie has a sudden image of a younger version of Steve doing the same and it fills him with sadness. Anger too, but that has no place here right now.

“Come on,” he says, urging Steve away, “show me where the magic happens.”

Steve snorts but takes him upstairs to a truly atrocious pattern of plaid wallpaper and a lonely, framed picture of a red car on the wall. He doesn’t bother roasting Steve over it, already having heard the woes of having a house designed by a hired decorator and allowed very little input, even in his own room.

Nevertheless, Eddie shakes his head at the picture, “You don’t even like red cars.”

“They look like small toys,” Steve agrees as they both stand in front of it. He shakes himself out of it, passing the cardboard boxes over to Eddie for construction and starts pulling out his clothes: polo shirts of various colours and stripes; tight, blue jeans that, at the sight, Eddie feels the need to rub his hands together like a cartoon villain in anticipation; and a small collection of trophies and history books.

“It doesn’t feel like a lot,” Steve eventually says, looking down at the half-box of hair products he places down to join the rest.

“They’ll be plenty,” Eddie rejoins, thinking of the cupboard that’s already going to overflow with the new additions. “And you’ll collect new things as time goes by, stuff that reflects who you are now rather than who you were then.”

Steve smirks, “I liked who I was then — at least by the time I fell on your carpet.”

Eddie draws him in, kissing him lightly, “And I did too. I just mean that you’ve got an entire world ahead of you, you’re not defined by a couple of boxes in your childhood bedroom.”

Steve smiles, resting his forehead briefly against Eddie's, “I’m glad that if I’m doing this, that I’m doing it with you.”

Eddie nuzzles against him, “Naturally."

 

---

 

As it turns out, Robin has blackmail material on Keith at Family Video and Steve’s short stint away from work is forgiven as a family emergency. Eddie laughs at Steve's bright face as he pulls on his green vest, “Anyone would think that you’re going somewhere fun.”

“I know!” Steve laughs, unhooking his plain keychain next to the ghoul figurine, “I’m actually looking forward to it.”

He presses a kiss against Eddie’s lips, grabs an apple and waves to Wayne in the corner before rushing out the door, “See you. Love you, bye!”

Wayne looks over his newspaper, amusement glimmering in his eyes, “So, not agoraphobic then.”

Eddie chuckles, already looking for leftovers in the fridge, “No, definitely not.”

May speeds along and Eddie finds himself in the counsellor’s office again, staring at the woman in front of him and feeling like he should be shocked. The sound of the ceiling fan strikes a steady beat above them and the cheery light through the window shines on her collection of colourful and fluffy pens.

“I did it,” he whispers, almost in disbelief.

Creases form at the edges of her dark, almond eyes as she smiles broadly, “You did it.”

His incredulity falls away as Miss Kelly rustles the papers in front of her, bringing out Eddie’s transcript for the year. He’s surprised at how well he did in some of the classes but is nonetheless satisfied to see that he passed all of them with flying colours.

She pulls out a few pamphlets, “I took the liberty of looking into a few options, and nursing school is absolutely within your grasp. Take these home and make some decisions.”

Eddie's grin is broad and he can’t stop beaming, the feeling overflows and he jumps out of the chair allowing himself an exuberant whoop. She watches him dance in place, “You were right, Eddie. I’m glad I took a chance on you.”

Outside, he rustles in the glove box in the van before starting it to go home; he wants to listen to Stevie Nicks again and make a new memory with the song that had consoled him this time last year. It’s a triumph that he carries with him as he bounds up the trailer steps and through the door. As he enters though, he sees Steve and Wayne quietly talking on the couch. The room has a solemn air to it.

They look up as he enters and he slows, frowning at Steve’s red eyes, “Everything okay in here?”

Wayne nods him over and Eddie slides into Steve’s lap, offering comfort even if he doesn’t know why.

Steve grips his thighs to pull him onto his seat more securely, “I was just talking with Wayne about the whole thing. Travelling back and how grateful I was for how understanding he’s been. Especially now, considering that I knew what was coming.”

Wayne sighs, leaning back over to grab his Winstons. “Eddie told me that something bad was coming after you disappeared that last time. Knowing that you survived to go back to the past gave me some comfort — that at least you would be okay. And I knew that you’d never let any real harm come to Eddie too.”

His face falls into a sad expression, “I would’ve rather that girl live. Selfishly, I would’ve rather never had to have seen what I did, but I understand Steve. And I don’t blame you.”

Steve pinches the bridge of his nose, looking down and saying so quietly that they both strain to hear. “I sort of expected you to hate me,” he admits.

Wayne leans over and smacks his knee with the back of his hand, bringing Steve’s gaze up to him, “I could never hate family, son.”

Steve squeezes Eddie involuntarily and he smiles at the comfort that fills Steve's eyes, feeling his heart expand at his uncle’s words. Thank you, he mouths over his head and Wayne simply shrugs. Eddie knows that in that gesture he is saying that gratitude is unnecessary since Wayne is simply telling the truth.

“You know,” Wayne shifts back against his seat, thoughtfully thumbing at the cardboard box in his hand, “I’ve been dreaming lately, odd little snippets about the trailer and us.” He wags a finger between him and Eddie, “I mean, just us, no Steve even though I know he should be there.”

“You think you’re seeing the Alternate Timeline?”

Wayne shrugs, but his eyes are intent under his bushy eyebrows, “I think Catherine and I hadn’t happened in that first timeline. In one of the dreams, Eddie went missing over spring break and those government agents put me up in Motel 6, off the highway.” Eddie snorts at the cheap bastards. “But this time, I was with Catherine all that week.”

Eddie shifts on top of Steve’s lap, “What changed then?”

“How could I have changed that?” asks Steve in a perplexed voice.

Wayne looks at Eddie with a straight gaze before sighing, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it, “After your father, I never wanted someone in our life that might hold the same values as him.”

He exhales a plume of grey smoke, curling like from the mouth of an old, wise dragon, “But it’s not always so easy to work it out when trying to get to know people.”

Eddie hums sympathetically within Steve’s arms, “Can’t really say: hey, I want to date you but, before I ask, what’s your thoughts on my queer nephew?”

Wayne chuckles wryly, a glint of appreciation in his eyes, “Something like that. But I remember, when Catherine came over to help with your stitches, Steve, there was a moment: you and her were laughing about something, I can’t remember what, but then she teased you, Eds. She made a joke about you and Steve being together and it wasn’t mean-spirited, it was open and it was like a bulb lit up. I knew she’d be safe for you.”

He leans over to pull the ashtray closer while the boys meet each other’s astonished eyes. “I stopped beating around the bush around that time too. If I had to guess, I think that moment changed everything.”

“And that wouldn’t have happened unless I’d been here to flirt with Eddie,” Steve says in wonderment, absently stroking Eddie’s hip with his thumb, the caress as warm as the intent under it.

“How’d she know though?” Eddie mulls, trying to work out how she could have worked out that he’s gay.

“It’s a mystery, son,” Wayne says dryly as he eyes the two of them entwined around each other on the couch, and Steve turns away with a suspicious cough.

Eddie scowls, “Oh, screw you two.” He’s reminded of Wayne laughing at Eddie thinking Steve’s straight all over again. They’re getting fake shit again this Christmas too.

“Baby,” Steve grabs his resisting hand, pressing a fond kiss against it, “I was asking you to tell me that I was hot with my shirt off.”

Wayne grunts, “For just the one thing.” But his face softens as he watches Steve reel a mock protesting Eddie into his arms. Smacking big kisses all over his face.

The dreams don’t stop with Wayne either. Max approaches Eddie one day, sitting down next to him on the porch couch; the sun highlights the freckles across the bridge of her nose. She looks healthy, Eddie thinks. No more fading away.

It makes him flash back to the image of her pale face framed in the corner of his van’s window, freckles bright but skin dull, eyeing him suspiciously as he’d described keying Billy’s car.

“Did you know?” he asks before she has a chance to open her mouth.

She hitches up a leg on the couch as she turns to him, lounging back casually before saying, “Know what?”

“About Steve? That he was here this entire time. I thought…” Eddie chews his lip, unexpectedly nervous at the sudden thought that Max had known this entire time.

In the terror of Steve fading and then the suddenness of Vecna striking, it hadn’t occurred to him, but all of a sudden he can remember every sharp look she’d directed his way.

Max regards him with those razor blade blue eyes once more, “That he was your shut-in?”

He nods wordlessly.

“No,” she admits, “I…”

He waits as her gaze shifts, looking past him to the closed windows of his trailer.

“I never really saw him. A shadow every now and then and, yeah, I did think some coincidences were weird, but…”

She shakes her head with a soft huff, “Steve—my Steve—was always around in one way or another. Either with the guys or bugging me to talk about my feelings."

Eddie laughs at the disgruntlement that runs delicately across her face, knowing that Steve had only been following his advice at the bookstore.

"I had my own stuff to deal with, and how could I ever think that time travel was a possibility? No,” she admits again, “I knew you had a boyfriend who was probably a good guy and definitely a lousy baker, but never more than that.”

At the reminder of Steve's cookies, Eddie chuckles again but it quickly dies at her pensive expression. He falls further sombre as she suddenly levels with him, “You know, you helped me outrun Vecna."

He blinks, trying to shift gears in his head away from the vitality of the girl in front of him to the man who would have taken that away. “Say again, Red?”

Max remains unblinking as she explains, “I had a dream and, in it, I wasn’t fast enough to escape Vecna when he was in my mind — that final time, at the Creel house. In that version, he got me just as El arrived and he broke me.”

She clenches her jaw at the latter, but continues, “I didn’t see what happened after that because I was blinded, but, from what Steve said, I suspect the gate came shortly after.

Eddie exhales against the fear that wants to rise, determinedly looking at the faint flush of warmth under her skin: Max is okay, they’re all okay. “You saw the Alternate Timeline,” he guesses.

“I think so,” she says, but despite her animation there is an air of tiredness to her admission. Eddie thinks it’s the sort of weariness that comes from having to face your mortality, rather than the shakiness that had weighed her down earlier in the year.

“What was different this time?”

The fatigue fades as she smiles, a simple expression of contentment and satisfaction, “I listened to you about what you said over New Year's. It was so hard to sleep sometimes with the image of me stepping in front of Billy, sacrificing myself for him.”

“Vecna,” Eddie mutters darkly.

She nods, “Probably. It would have been easier to get in my head if I was exhausted from fighting him off all the time. But I kept thinking about good memories whenever my mind wanted to veer towards the bad stuff.”

Max huffs out a laugh, “To my surprise, it worked. It was still hard and I was still tired, but I didn't feel like I was buried under a mountain anymore; I avoided the guys like in the Alternate Timeline, but now I was talking to you and I kept in contact with El too." The faint flush deepens slightly, "I really missed her and, this time, I felt like I could breathe. Like I was good enough to be her friend. Then..."

She makes a gesture as if to encapsulate all of the horror of spring break, "Then, when the day came, I just kept redirecting my thoughts like I’d been practising.”

Eddie smiles smugly, “Not so unhealthy after all.”

She tips her head in acknowledgment and Eddie feels like a cat has allowed him to touch its toe beans, all regal permission and subtle approval. “Erica told me, too. She dreamt. But in hers, Jason wasn’t alone when he went to Creel's house; Andy got to her and held her back.”

“Huh,” Eddie leans back on the couch, staring out at the tree line and mulling on the differences. Jason had rushed Lucas at Creel's house but Erica had snuck in behind him, hitting him over the head with her lantern and knocking him out before he could do any damage.

He thinks about Andy sticking up for him with Coach at the town hall meeting and all the small but friendly interactions they’d had before that. Perhaps choosing to talk with Andy had made more of a difference than he ever would have thought.

He thinks of other little moments, other paths where maybe he and Max didn't reach out to each other, and shudders to think of her helpless in an island of her own suffering. Of her shunning everyone, including El, and having nobody to share her burdens with.

It makes his past self, the boy fearful of fists and anger, stand that little bit taller. Makes that fault line inside, the chasm he'd once fallen into, easier to stride over.

Knowing that their choices had created a ripple beyond their small group is the extra drop in the bucket that convinces him to invite Jeff over to talk. He’s on the porch again, the early summer heat pleasantly washing over them and blue skies serene above. A hammering sounds in the distance as Steve attaches his new trellis, the interwoven pine wood looking like a creamy yellow lace against the side of the trailer.

Jeff stares at Eddie, “You’re dating Steve Harrington?”

Eddie glares at him incredulously, “You’re just going to skip over the whole time travel thing? That’s pretty damn big, man.”

Jeff waves a dismissive hand, “Yeah, yeah. That’s too much for me to wrap my head around right now. But you. Eddie Munson. Dungeon Master metalhead who will one day be nurse extraordinaire are dating ‘the hair’ Harrington, former high school king.”

Eddie grins salaciously, “Best piece of ass in Hawkins, right?”

As one, they look over to the trellis and the long rectangular planter under it. Bending over to push the heavy piece into the right position, Steve’s Van-Halen t-shirt hangs, exposing his belly as it flexes, while the denim of his shorts stretches taut across his backside.

“I think,” Jeff says thoughtfully, eyes focused on a place that only makes Eddie preen in pride, “that time travel is the one reasonable explanation for Steve Harrington suddenly living at your trailer.”

He pauses, eyes sliding pensively back to Eddie, “You mentioned those dreams?”

Curiosity jitters through him, “You’ve had them too?” Jeff rubs the back of his neck with an abashed expression, “I think we made a go of the band? But it was sort of a flop; we played to like six drunks at the Hideout.”

Eddie pouts and sulkily shoves his hands into his pockets, “There goes my backup plan.”

“Everything going okay?” Steve ambles over, eyes cautious.

Eddie curves an arm around Steve’s waist and presses a reassuring kiss against his stubbly cheek. He hasn’t shaved in a day and, alongside the exposed muscles of his arms and legs, it all creates an appealing roughness that makes Eddie want to shove him inside as soon as possible.

He thinks about how Steve is extra attentive when jealousy is riding him and smiles slyly, “All good. Maybe next time we can invite Randy over.” Steve’s eyes narrow and, despite knowing Eddie’s angle, he slides a hand around his hip, fingers biting into the skin deliciously.

Being nobody’s fool, Jeff squints at them in suspicion, “What’s wrong with Randy?”

Eddie laughs as Steve’s cheeks redden, “Someone maybe thought that we had a thing going on, and someone maybe didn’t like that so much.”

“Randy?” Jeff snorts and Steve rolls his eyes at himself.

“They hung out a lot.”

“Yeah, but so do Eddie and I,” Jeff says with a gleam in his eye. Behind Steve’s back, Eddie starts shaking his head at his soon-to-be former best friend.

Steve’s head tilts in confusion, “But you guys are just buddies.”

“Sure,” Jeff says with a deceptively nonchalant expression, “but Randy’s never made out with Eddie.” A beat of silence passes before Steve's head whips around to his boyfriend, “Not Randy, but Jeff?”

Jeff erupts into a howl of laughter over Steve’s shoulder and Eddie shrugs weakly, “I told you: hot, but no fun. Or fun, but no chemistry.”

His humour abruptly cut short by Eddie’s analysis, Jeff quickly scowls, “You said I’m not hot?”

Steve snickers at Eddie’s flustered face and flailing hands as he tries to latch onto a defence. “I said chemistry; not not hot,” he hisses.

Smirking, Steve swivels to walk backwards towards Jeff with a supercilious brow aimed at Eddie; he rolls his eyes when Steve drapes a consoling arm over Jeff’s shoulders and says comfortingly, “It’s okay. He told me I wasn’t attractive multiple times until he finally said I was hot and fun and he wanted me in his bed.”

Jeff drapes a companionable arm around him too and nods sadly, “The man lives in a world of lies and denial.”

Eddie shifts uncomfortably at the sudden understanding that he is outnumbered. “That is a gross misrepresentation,” he protests.

Both guys turn to him simultaneously, regarding him with identical gleams in their eyes while one shakes his head and the other tsks at him. Steve draws Jeff towards the trellis, “Know anything about gardening?”

Walking pass, they ignore Eddie as he groans, knowing that Jeff does in fact like to tend to his family's flower bed at home.

It’s sometime after Jeff has left that Catherine strides over to Steve, hugging him fiercely. “Thank you,” she says. “I dreamed last night. And I never would have had Wayne in my life if not for you, thank you.” Steve looks hopelessly over her shoulder at Wayne who just shrugs with a subtly pleased smile.

It doesn’t erase the disasters that he couldn’t fix, for Steve. The deaths of Chrissy, Fred, Patrick and even Billy will always hang over him in one form or another. But the knowledge that he did have an impact, by choosing to go back in time, helps to heal those cracks within himself. Giving him a sense of purpose to all those months when he’d so fiercely restrained himself.

Robin storms into the trailer one Saturday morning, exclaiming, “I’d never even kissed a girl!” Steve looks up from his seat on the couch where he’d been reading his magazine, “Alternate Timeline?”

“Alternate Timeline,” she yells, throwing her hands up in the air. Her metal bracelets jangle in agitation and rainbow shoelaces fall messily as she half-kicks the air in frustration.

Steve crosses his legs, tapping the magazine thoughtfully over his chin. On its cover, Bruce Willis bickers with Cybill Shepherd. “You’re welcome,” he says benignly, although there is a glint of slyness to his eyes.

Robin sees right through his pleasantness and scowls, “Oh, fuck you, buddy. I’m the one who asked Lizzie to dance that night: I was the one who scored.”

Steve scowls back, pointing the glossy paper at her like a finger, “And I’m the one who travelled through time, risking life, limb, and sanity to make sure that you survived long enough to hit on her.”

They glare at each other.

“And I’m the hot boy that made him want to do it,” Eddie interrupts smugly from the kitchen, sipping his coffee in punctuation. Robin looks over at him, bowing sarcastically before throwing herself onto the other side of the couch. Draping her ankles into his lap, Steve passes her the remote.

Upset already forgotten, Robin turns on the ABC where a young cavalier projects a magical forcefield against a snarling monster. “Oh, did you know there’s an actual cartoon of the dungeon and dork’s game?”

Steve casually flips another page of his TV Guide, but Eddie can see the tug at the corner of his mouth. “Eddie made me a character to play in a campaign,” he adds mildly.

Robin’s head whips to the side to stare at them, mouth open in outrage and pointing a finger at Steve accusingly, “You said you’d never!” She turns her finger to Eddie, “Deal me in or whatever, I want one too.” She eyes him thoughtfully for a beat, eyes shifting down his body, “But no bats.”

Eddie touches his scarless torso. “No bats,” he promises.

And then one night, it’s Eddie’s turn to dream.

He dreams…

He dreams of watching Steve Harrington and Billy Hargrove playing basketball and hating them both. They can rub all up on each other in the name of masculine rivalry and no one calls either of them hateful names.

He glares with satisfaction as Billy pushes Steve to the hard gym floor, but he hates the feeling of being invisible with no leather and no silver rings, hiding from his clumsiness on the bleachers. So, as Steve walks past, Eddie snidely calls out, “Good game, Harrington.”

He ignores the pang of regret at the expression on Steve’s face, telling himself that rich, popular guys like him deserve whatever’s coming to them.

He feels a similar sort of disdain after nearly losing himself in the temptation to throw a fist at Tommy Hagen while listening to Steve vomit in the boys’ bathroom. He knocks on the stall door to check after him, because he’s not an animal, but Eddie bets that the party king of Hawkins High is simply hungover as he follows his hissed advice to piss off.

He's still smarting from failing senior year a second time when he caves and buys ice cream at Scoops Ahoy in the air-conditioned Starcourt Mall. Steve sees him coming and steps back to allow band chick to serve the line and Eddie thinks, fair enough, because he doesn’t exactly want to talk to golden boy Steve Harrington either.

Though he stores the image of those revealing blue shorts and tantalising white tube socks for later, hornier fantasies.

Summer is boring and he’s already dreading the coming year. In a fit of desperation at the dawning disappointment on Wayne’s face, he’d hastily promised that he would try senior year for the third time. One last year and '86 is going to see Eddie Munson graduating.

To distract himself, he pushes the guys and they finally decide on a band name and try-out at a few places. In the end, they even get to play at the Hideout on occasion. The small crowd is disappointing, but he loves the new thrill even as Jeff and Dougie start hinting that this all has a time limit. They’ll be graduating soon and hopefully leaving for college afterwards.

And then Chrissy happens and Eddie wonders whether his father was right to discard him on Wayne’s porch; perhaps he is a feral, diseased creature that destroys everything he touches. Because Chrissy’s dead, Eddie ran, and he’d left the entire mess in their trailer for his uncle to deal with. Like a coward.

He accepts, even welcomes, his dark self-loathing at the realisation that he’s never stopped running, and maybe that’s all he’s good at. The feeling fills him to the brim, to near choking, as he realises that Steve is actually a good dude: someone who’s been fighting monsters and defending his own sheepies for longer than Eddie can even imagine.

He can’t help but follow him with greedy eyes and his body that has turned into metal fillings towards the lodestone that is Steve, running after him or dropping back to talk. All so he can spend an extra moment with this man that he thought he knew but didn’t. It fuels a rising crush that he tries to stomp out, even as he throws his denim vest at Steve’s face as Wheeler fawns over his naked chest.

“For your modesty,” he says, while meaning look at me.

But he understands why Eddie would be invisible to someone like Steve. He’s surrounded by clever people—heroes in their own right—and not one of them would have run like Eddie did. The knowledge fuels his conviction that he doesn’t have much to offer this fellowship of protectors other than one of the few skills his old man had passed onto him: hotwiring cars.

He tries to style out his dismay by flirting with Steve as he sparks the wires in the RV, but it’s just one more disappointing revelation in the worst week of his life. Eddie truly is a tarnished copper compared to the brilliant gold that surrounds him.

Yet when the bats attack and he knows that Steve and Dustin and all of the fellowship in the Upside Down are about to be vulnerable to the coming monsters, Eddie finally understands that this is the moment to allow his metal to shine.

He cuts the linen rope and flies away on his once abandoned bike. The bats take him down at the edge of the trailer park and he doesn’t manage to run far until they have him under them on the ground, ripping into his neck, legs, and torso like a smorgasbord.

The eventual sound of all their bodies falling to the ground precedes Dustin’s shaky thuds as he drags himself to Eddie on his makeshift walking stick. Sound becomes a distant warble and Dustin’s face turns blurry, but Eddie is grimly satisfied because he finally did one damn thing right.

The crimson skies flash for the last time before Eddie’s world fades to an unending black.

 

---

 

Eddie wakes with a gasp, bolting upright and yanking his shirt up to check that his belly is free from the jagged bites, no longer pouring blood onto the barren floor of the Upside Down like a ritual sacrifice.

“Eddie,” Steve murmurs in their bed, blearily looking up at him, “what’s wrong, baby?” Seeing Eddie’s chest heaving in the silver glow of the moonlight, Steve shifts, pushing himself up to lay a comforting hand on him, it's warm and solid, grounding him in the present.

“I dreamed,” Eddie says slowly, running his hand down his flawless skin one last time before dropping his shirt. “I saw what happened in the Alternate Timeline.”

Steve’s face tightens, “Did you see…?”

Eddie shivers, still able to feel the phantom bites across his body, “To the end, yeah.” Steve curses softly, even as his hand grips tighter as if to keep Eddie anchored in this version of time, where he is safe and alive. “Are you okay?”

Mulling over the question, Eddie thinks that his body feels all right. Even now returning to steadier breaths under the weight of Steve’s attention, but it’s as he shifts through his feelings and actions in the Alternate Timeline that an edge of disappointment flutters through him.

He looks at Steve, the shadows deepening the concern across his face and remembers the snide words and thoughts of the other version of himself.

“I don’t like who I was without you,” Eddie says slowly, teasing out the branching paths his dreams had revealed.

“I was full of resentment and anger: I hadn’t found a purpose yet and what comfort I took in my music and games wasn’t enough to distract from the self-loathing that I was bombing school and no one knew about the parts of me that I kept hidden.”

“That you’re gay?” Steve asks delicately, tangling their fingers together to offer comfort.

Eddie squeezes them back in gratitude, “A big part of that was it, yeah. It really did feel like a giant piece of the puzzle slotted into place once I could control my own narrative, but it was also the other parts.”

He smiles at the memory of carefully approaching a bristling girl at her doorstep. “Talking with you, with Red. Allowing myself to admit that I was more scared of the anger in me than I’d realised — it all helped me to confront those feelings and trust in myself."

His eyes drift, landing on his desktop that overflows with figurines, paint pots, story ideas, and medical textbooks. “I had Jeff and Wayne, and Hellfire too, but I was lonely. Everyone knew parts of me, but no one saw the whole of it. But once time started to change, I did too.”

“You’re saying that I did all that?” Steve’s tone is awed and a little disbelieving for it, and Eddie turns back to him, fondly raking his gaze over his springtime boy, coloured in tones of gold and bronze. Always so afraid that he’s not enough, but, Eddie knows, he’s coming to understand the power he holds in all their lives.

Steve, not only the tank, not only the man with a swathe of deep emotions running under his carefully relaxed surface but the man who changed time. Who saved the world in his determination to save his family.

The heart of their fellowship.

Eddie brings Steve’s hand up and presses a reverent kiss against it, “You saw it all, through to the hidden, dark crevices and still looked at me with your honest eyes to tell me that you love and trust me. That was everything.”

“Well shit,” Steve says, drawing him into his arms as he lies back down. “A bit more than the bare minimum then,” he murmurs against his forehead and Eddie huffs out a laugh at Steve’s commitment to his light-hearted diversions.

“Yeah, I’d say.”

He rests his head on Steve’s chest, reassured as always by the steady beat of his heart, knowing that the stalwart blood pumping through it keeps this soldier here in his embrace. “I love you, sweetheart, and it’s not an exaggeration when I say that you’re the best thing to ever happen to me.”

Steve’s arms tighten before he strokes a gentle hand down Eddie’s hair, “I never thought I’d say thank god for the Upside Down, but it led me here, it gave me you; I can’t argue against that.”

“It didn’t give you shit,” Eddie protests sharply, the injustice of the thought stirring him. “Sure, none of this could have happened without the opportunity it offered us in taking you back in time, but after that? That was all us, sweetheart.”

He thinks back to Steve’s smirk, standing above him on the trailer floor on that first day, “You were sly and funny, and I was fascinated.”

“I told you that you were more than just interested,” Steve’s smug voice floats above him.

“But you were also in pain and trying so hard to do the right thing: my heart was breaking.”

Steve presses a comforting kiss to his crown, “And so you chose to look after me.”

Eddie looks up, sincere in the awe that ripples through him at how full his world has become, “I did. And, by doing so, I found my path; I found myself, and I found the love of my life.”

Eyes soft, Steve threads his fingers in Eddie’s hair, making him see the bare honesty on his face, “I’d do it again. I’d take all that pain and uncertainty in a heartbeat.”

“I know,” Eddie smiles solemnly, “because where you land you bring life and springtime and, without you, the world falls into winter again.”

Steve matches him, swiping his thumb across the silk of Eddie’s cheek before giving him a soft, chaste kiss, “But I always come back because I have my anchor, my Hades, to guide me home.”

“Always,” Eddie vows in return, his unwavering smile sealing their words into an unbreakable bond.

With hearts beating in tandem, Eddie leans forward, taking Steve’s lips in a slow, tender unravelling of their love, a beautiful thing made strong by the alloy of their copper and gold.

 

 

 

Notes:

Click here for the author's long, long final note

...so what began as me wanting to force these guys to share a bed for a couple of years and have Eddie lose his shit in the middle of Scoops Ahoy became a long meditation on the small choices we make and how they can have a big impact. a notion that, as it turns out, I firmly believe is an important force for positive change in our lives and communities.

I hope you enjoyed this ride. it was written at a significant time in my life filled with uncertainty while staying home alone for a long time, and looking back now I can see that reflected through the entire story. knowing this though, makes me excited for what stories may come next in my future as life continues to unfold as it always does.

thank you for reading, thank you for commenting, thank you for whatever you may take from this story into your own lives. thank you.

love, paperbackribs 💚💫💚