Work Text:
It’s not the fight Eddie’s running away from.
Before, words could never really hurt him.
All his life, he’s taken whatever was hurled at him and wore it like armor, made it his strength. But now they’re spitting murderer despite the Chief clearing his name, and that’s one thing he can’t wear proudly.
It renders him defenseless, so he fights back just enough to get out of the corner. Even healed, his ankle only lets him go so fast. All his joints sear in pain, but he gets away.
There he goes, running again, goddamn all-star, they should give him a medal. That’s all he’s good for now, running and running and—
“Holy shit!”
He hits something. Someone.
“Eddie? Eddie, what is it? What’s going on?”
It’s Steve.
Eddie has to blink a few times to confirm that, yes, it is Steve Harrington standing outside his apartment building, those are Steve Harrington’s hands holding his face, it’s Steve Harrington’s gaze bleeding concern behind his glasses.
“Those dickheads— I hit ‘em with— Oh fuck, my cane,” Eddie looks around frantically, he must’ve dropped it when he took off.
“Where? In the alley?” Steve asks, squeezing Eddie’s shoulders when he nods. “Wait here.”
Eddie nods again, wildly, watching as Steve disappears behind the building. It doesn’t take long, enough for Eddie to catch his breath and somewhat recenter himself. He’s relieved when Steve jogs back around, Eddie’s distinctly colored cane in hand, smiling to try and put Eddie at ease.
“They’re gone. You put up a good fight, even knocked some paint off your cane.” Steve spins it before handing it back. “You okay? Looks like they got you right here.”
Steve touches him again, a warm hand on his cheek. The instinct to seek comfort takes over, Eddie almost leans into it, but hisses when Steve’s thumb brushes a tender spot.
“Yeah I’m— what are you doing here?” Eddie asks, trying to piece it all together. “Oh, that last customer cleaned out my stash, so. Closed for business.”
“You got robbed too? Jesus, man.”
Steve gives him those sympathetic eyes again. Doesn’t seem disappointed there’s no weed. Hm. Maybe Eddie got hit harder than he thought.
“Eh, they didn’t get much but it was my last.”
Eddie starts up the stairs but his nonchalance is betrayed by his ankle, clutching the railing with a groan.
Steve steps up next to him, hand outstretched, dropping when Eddie waves him off.
“I said I’m out,” Eddie repeats because Steve’s still there, despite no chance of splitting a joint like they have been lately.
“Yeah, you look out of it too. I’ll hang around for a minute.”
Baffled at Steve’s insistence, it dawns on Eddie. He got too comfortable last time they smoked. Complaining about Rick getting locked up again, he let it slip that he emptied out his stash, snorting one thing or another until he’s dead to the world that wants him dead so badly. Just for a little while.
For whatever reason, Steve has deemed Eddie worth worrying about. But Eddie won’t subject anyone to his pity party, he even shooed Wayne out of the house, not letting him miss any more Friday nights at the bar with his buddies.
“Harrington, I’ve got a hot date with a handful of Tylenol, alright? I’m not gonna do anything stupid. No more than usual.”
“Yeah, just thinking about the last time I left you alone when you said that.”
Eddie snorts. Sounds a tad more defensive than he means to, part of him still backed into that corner.
“You think I’m gonna open a portal in my room and go pay Vecna a visit? ‘Love what you’ve done with the place, Henry, I hope the bats are hungry’.”
Steve cracks a dry smile. He nods at the ground like Eddie told him so much more than a shitty joke.
“You know I’ve, uh, been doing the whole ‘take a beating you think you deserve’ wallowing routine a lot longer than you, dude. Hate to wreck your plans, but I’m not going anywhere.”
Eddie stifles his knee-jerk reaction to that. The insinuation that he needs anything, even just company. Henderson caught the brunt of it once, Steve a couple times, and Eddie hates himself for snapping at Wayne.
He’s sort of hard-wired to his independence. He hasn’t been coddled since his mom was around to do it. Then his dad convinced him he could take care of himself, just so he could ditch Eddie whenever he wanted. By the time he moved in with Wayne, it was hard to convince him otherwise.
Now Eddie’s dependent on this 36-inch stick. He finally adjusted to that, it just feels like part of him now. He painted it black and red and gave it as much of his flair as he could (“Wayne, you gotta admit a silver dragon handle would be metal.” “Yeah the kinda metal that gets hot in the sun. You want your hands cooked, boy?”) so he doesn’t mind needing it.
But he hasn’t adjusted to all the coddling that comes with almost dying by suicide mission. Whatever. Point is, he’s working on setting boundaries without spiking anyone who approaches.
As he’s sure some fancy shrink would advise if he could afford one.
So Eddie skips the part where he’d scoff, ‘Sure, Steve, give me some tips on being miserable since you’re so much better at it than me’ then regret it immediately. And the part where Steve would forgive him, but not without telling him what an asshole he is first.
“Well, who am I to turn down Hawkin’s famous loverboy on a Friday night?” Eddie gestures with his cane for Steve to lead the way.
Thankfully, he doesn’t make it a whole thing that the stairs are a struggle for Eddie.
They always are, even more so after straining himself. Wayne tried to get a ground-floor place after the earthquake, but they didn’t have a lot of options. No time, no money, and nobody was rushing to let the town fuckup move in.
Steve matches his pace, taking breaks often, filling the silence with ‘well other than that, how’s your day?’ and managing to keep the concern off his face. Ready to help, if asked.
Slowly, Eddie’s spikes lower.
Steve Harrington is being soft with him, not out of pity, but because he found Eddie mid-escape of getting his ass kicked and robbed. It’s obvious now, but Eddie’s brain, or maybe just his 20-year-old dignity has a hard time discerning these days.
It’s not like Steve swooped in and princess-carried him away from danger. Again. Eddie’s been saving his own ass lately, but he wouldn’t be opposed to a show of those effortless heroics from Steve that he’s envious of. And maybe a little helplessly attracted to.
He shoos the thoughts away as they make it to the top and go inside.
Eddie should sit down but he’s still pumping with adrenaline. His shoes are killing his ankle, he probably needs custom ones, but he can’t afford to even think about that now. He kicks them off, heading to the kitchen as fast as his derby handle allows. Steve does the same and follows, but Eddie sort of feels like a lost puppy here, needing to tether himself.
Maybe a little manic, he rummages around for the Folgers can at the back of the cabinet. Luckily, he keeps his cash in his shoe, so those douchebags didn’t get their hands on it. He bites the lid off and stashes his money.
“Did you know those guys?” Oh, Steve’s closer than Eddie realized. “You said you only deal with people you trust, right?”
“Yeah, it was a setup from one of the few I thought I could. Another one off the list, I guess.”
None of the grace he’s mastered doing things one-handed can be found at the moment. Eddie fumbles the can back into place then turns and oh wow, Steve’s close, very close.
Wired frames shouldn’t look this good on anyone, nor should any face that’s been bashed around as much as Steve’s. His brows are low, staring where Eddie feels a bruise forming. That floods even more color to Eddie’s cheeks than the fist that struck him.
“We should get you some ice for—”
“Hey, uh, you want a Fluffernutter?” Eddie blurts out because he thinks he’ll die if Steve keeps looking at him like that.
They bump around the small kitchen together. Steve helps, doesn’t over help, grabbing a single plate they’re apparently sharing. Eddie spreads the peanut butter and marshmallow fluff onto the bread, leaning his cane against the counter to free both hands so he doesn’t make a mess of it. Not the prettiest, but it’ll do.
It’s too sweet for Steve, he doesn’t hide his grimace. Eddie smiles behind his half of the sandwich, settling across the table from him.
“So, you’re saving up for something?” Steve ventures, nodding to the cabinet housing Eddie’s money stash.
“Hah. Yeah.”
That’s the only reason he agreed to sell to strangers, he’s scrounging every cent to get away from this place.
No one would hire him before, any application from Munson Junior went straight into the trash. Now he’s Munson the Murderer. He can’t go in public without looks and insults on a good day, spit and fists on a bad one. He can’t step out of the house without a gnawing fear that he won’t come back and Wayne will lose him for real this time.
Most days he doesn’t bother going out.
He tells Steve as much. “There’s just nothing for me here, man.” Too much.
Steve listens as he vents, doesn’t seem annoyed, frowns at the worst bits and says he understands. “But you’ve still got some things here, though.”
“Oh yeah?”
Eddie knows he’s got Wayne, who refuses to let Eddie think he’s a burden. He’s got Dustin hosting a pity campaign just to get him out of the house. He’s got Gareth calling him for band practice, and Jeff calling to say it’s okay if he doesn’t show, they’re still friends. He’s got Robin’s list of songs and movies to “fix his uncultured taste”. He’s got Steve Harrington checking up on him on a Friday.
But he doesn’t want to think about leaving all that behind when he’s not sure he even deserved it, so he goes for the joke.
“Aw shucks, you gonna miss me, Harrington?”
“Who else am I gonna get shitty weed from?” Steve teases with an eyeroll. “Don’t run off without saying goodbye to Henderson. That little shit would never let me hear the end of it.”
Eddie suspects it’s not only Henderson he means, but promises he won’t bail nonetheless.
“So did you have somewhere in mind?” Steve asks. Eddie shakes his head. “Not even which town?” Another head shake as Eddie tears a bite off his sandwich. “We uh— me and Robin found a place in Chicago.”
Eddie chews slower. Unsure why that puts a lump in his throat.
He knew those two weren’t separating when Robin got into college. They have a moving date, Steve sounds sure, he’s planned beyond a wad of cash in a beat-up coffee tin. They went to see the house, carefully chose the area and signed the dotted line. Steve is charmingly exasperated with the details, but he’s going for it.
That’s fucking awesome and— why is Eddie finding it so hard to swallow.
“Chicago’s gonna be good for Robin, you know? People are more open in the city, she could find someone. Maybe you should think about Chicago too.”
Eddie can only hum and nod as Steve goes on, because of course Steve thought of that. For Robin. Which Eddie only knows because one night, at the end of a joint and the bottom of a bottle between the three of them, they got loose-lipped and it all came pouring out.
That tight feeling in his chest spreads as Steve subtly nudges him in that direction. They don’t talk about it, but he was there when Eddie shed tears he didn’t mean to, listening to everything Eddie didn’t mean to say about dying alone in the closet if he stays here. It didn’t scare Steve off like Eddie expected, or cause a rage of disgust like a small, irrational part of Eddie feared.
No, Steve Harrington is here, suggesting Chicago would be better. Like maybe he’s been thinking about it for Eddie too.
“There’s more room to like… explore, I guess. That’s good for everyone, right? I mean, I don’t even know what I wanna do, that’s not the point. It’d just be nice to go somewhere Hawkins can’t tell me shit, y’know.”
Eddie nods slowly, thinking too hard about what Steve means by “explore”. He probably just wants to grow his hair out to piss off his dad or something. Not the kind of exploring that Eddie would willingly volunteer his banged-up body for, which hurts like hell at the moment.
The adrenaline is gone and he can feel how much he overexerted himself. The bats playing tug-of-war with his limbs left him feeling like a puppet with his strings cut, but his ankle took most of the damage, twisted out of place. It’s weak, healed a bit crooked. His hospital stay and surgeries burned through everything Wayne’s insurance would cover, but he needs another to correct his ankle fully.
Which, unless money falls out of the sky into his lap, ain’t happening soon.
The discomfort must show on his face because Steve stops mid-sentence to give him a sympathetic look.
“They did a number on you, huh?”
“Nah, just sore muscles mostly. My ankle’s busted, man, it fucks up everything when I run. My thighs feel like knots right now.”
“Massaging them would help, right? Isn't that part of your physical therapy?”
Eddie scoffs a dry laugh. “Could only afford a couple sessions. Just gonna let the Tylenol work its magic and try to sleep it off, I guess. So.” He grabs his cane and pushes himself to his feet with a grimace.
“I could help, you know.”
“Help how?”
“The massaging part,” Steve says too casually when just the mention of it makes heat rise in Eddie’s cheeks.
It flashes through his mind. Steve’s hands. Eddie’s seen those hands do wonderful things, like hold a thick stack of VHS tapes, stretch around a basketball, rub down the line of Steve’s jaw and absently squeeze his thighs. The idea of Steve’s hands all over him, veiny and large and capable, Eddie aches somewhere other than his muscles just thinking about it.
“I don’t know, it’s pretty deep-tissue kinda stuff. You’d have to get real acquainted with a whole lotta me, Harrington.”
“We used to do this kinda stuff in the locker room all the time. Achy muscles, stiff neck, I know how to get the kinks out.” Steve holds his hands up, wiggling his fingers in a dorky gesture that Eddie’s filthy mind stores for later. “I’m not just The Hair, you know, they called me The Hands too.”
Eddie croaks a little. “Shit, sounds like I should’ve been on the basketball team.”
“Ha ha. Do you want a free pass to the Harrington Rub Club or not, man?”
Another croak lodges under Eddie’s ribs. “Well, how can I say no to that?”
Steve follows him to his room. Eddie washes down a handful of Tylenol with the warm remains of a beer on his bedside table. His muscles strain and joints pop as he crawls into bed, wincing. When he finally stretches out on his back and gets settled, he opens his eyes and— oh, Steve’s close again, sitting on the edge of Eddie’s bed.
As if this is just a normal place for him to be, in Eddie Munson’s bed.
“Pants off,” Steve says, as if that’s just a normal thing to say.
“Jesus Christ.”
“If you’re comfortable, it’s just easier without jeans in the way. I can grab you some sweats, if you want.”
Eddie musters up his cool, reaching to unbuckle his belt. “No, no. I was promised the full experience. Whatever you recommend, I want The Hands in all their glory.”
His confidence flags as he works open his jeans, sliding them off. Left in only his underwear and seconds away from having Steve’s hands all over him, that alone would’ve had him hard as a rock a few months ago. Now he’s a little embarrassed that he won’t be embarrassing himself with an awkward boner.
He’s had a chronic case of limp-dick since the bats did their damage. They left the jewels unharmed, according to the doctor, it’s just stress. Nearly dying and living in a town that wishes he would’ve, just does that to a guy. There’s been a couple valiant efforts, but his hand ultimately gets him nowhere. He cramps too quickly, and of course, his only dildo didn’t survive the earthquake from hell. He hopes Vecna’s enjoying it as much as he did.
“Ready?” Steve asks, rubbing his hands together to warm them up.
Eddie gulps a little as he nods.
“I’ll just start with your legs and move up to your thighs.”
Even though Eddie knows it’s coming, he still jumps slightly at the touch.
Steve’s hand wraps around his ankle, surprisingly soft but strong, lifting Eddie’s leg to stretch it out. Then he soothes his palms up Eddie’s calves, fingers pressing into the muscle and Eddie can’t help but squirm.
Eventually, Steve gets tired of having to wrangle him and sighs.
“Be still, would you? Did you fidget this much with your PT?”
Eddie wants to say there’s a big difference between anyone else touching him and Steve touching him.
“Your hands are nicer than Nurse Judy’s. I mean, like, not as pissed off to be up close and personal with the freak murderer—”
“Hey, Eddie.” Steve’s hands pause, just holding Eddie’s leg, waiting for him to look up. “Relax, okay? You gotta let yourself have it. If you need to, just think of this as me returning the favor from when I got a migraine and you let me sleep over.”
It’s easier to think of it like that. Nothing complicated about trading favors. Eddie’s used to playing everything transactionally, never getting anything without giving something first. Thanks, dear old dad.
It gives Eddie something else to think about. He’s been trying to forget that night for his own sanity. Steve, sprawled out on the couch, ended up laying his head on Eddie’s lap, letting Eddie run his fingers through his hair until he fell asleep. It took Eddie an embarrassingly long time to stop replaying it over in his mind.
“That was entirely self-preservation. Buckley would’ve skinned me alive if I let you drive home like that.”
“You made me soup,” Steve carries on as his hands start to move again.
“It was from a can.”
“That’s like 5-star effort coming from you.”
Eddie snorts, his eyes falling shut. They go on talking and the back-and-forth chat is the perfect distraction. Focusing on what Steve’s saying, he slowly feels himself relaxing in Steve’s hands. It’s true, they’re very talented.
Steve massages all the kinks out of Eddie’s calves, one after the other. His broad palms trail over Eddie’s scars with no reluctance, but still careful with Eddie somehow. He stretches Eddie’s legs out, gently guiding them where they need to go. Eddie unwinds with soft sighs melting into relieved hums as the conversation lulls.
He’s barely aware of the noises he’s making, until Steve bears down and reaches somewhere so deeply satisfying. He has both of Eddie’s legs bent at the knee, gripping his thighs to work them around and release all the tension in his hips. Then he pushes them up, spreading them with a measured amount of pressure that just wrings everything out of Eddie.
“Yeah fine, it was better than Spaghetti—oooh.”
Eddie’s eyes fly open. Humiliation burns on his cheeks from the moan that Steve no doubt heard. He’s craned over Eddie, still pressing his knees open, his gaze searching Eddie. Jesus Christ. It must show all over Eddie’s face because Steve slowly draws back, his eyes darting down as he straightens Eddie’s legs out.
There’s faint color staining Steve’s cheeks when he looks up. As if he’s just seen something he wasn’t supposed to, his eyes lock on Eddie through his lenses, trying not to look anywhere else.
“You don’t have to freak out,” Steve rushes to say.
Eddie’s brow crinkles, panic flying over him as he looks down to find the problem.
“What— oh.”
Eddie’s hard.
He’s tenting slightly inside his thin boxer briefs. It’s been so long since it happened without tremendous effort that usually ends with crampy hands and even more frustration than before, he forgot what it feels like. He didn’t notice the signs, the natural build up of heat slowly pooling between his legs.
Now he’s got a boner right in front of Steve Harrington.
Not just in front of him, because of him.
Eddie’s voice cracks, “Oh man, Steve, I’m—”
“Hey, it’s fine.” Steve’s hand twitches like he wants to reach out, but can’t because Eddie’s boner is right there. “That… kinda happened when I did this with all the guys on the team too. Just part of getting a massage, no big deal.”
“The whole team, huh?” Eddie feels delirious as he blurts out, “Slut.”
Before he can clap a hand over his stupid mouth, Steve laughs and shoots back, “Virgin.”
How much humiliation can a human take before just dropping dead? Because Eddie feels like he’s about to find out.
“How’d you know that?”
“You just told me,” Steve teases lightly, “It’s fine, don’t worry about it. You wanna keep going?”
Steve actually being okay with this makes Eddie flush with something other than embarrassment.
“Fine with me if it’s fine with you.”
Steve adjusts his glasses and gets right back to it, grabbing a stray pillow.
“Lift your hips for me.”
Eddie bites his lip as he does so.
Then what follows is Steve Harrington kneeling on Eddie’s mattress, manhandling his legs and bending him into the most fuckable positions imaginable.
All the while, he doesn’t mention Eddie’s steadily growing boner and Eddie’s not so sure he actually survived all those months ago. He’s gotta be dead or hallucinating because no way this is happening.
“I think I’m all good there.” Eddie finds his voice lodged somewhere in his throat.
Steve has both of his legs hooked over one arm, bending him to the side. His hips are an inch away from being flushed with Eddie’s ass, so, talking is difficult at the moment.
Steve puts his legs down and leans back, both of them letting out joint sighs of release.
“You’re still pretty tight,” Steve notes and Eddie swallows down a squeak. “Wanna flip over so I can do your back?”
Eddie nods like he’s got several screws loose, wanting to hide his face in the sheets for the rest.
He flips over with less strain than before, or maybe he’s just overtaken by the relief of pressing into the mattress, finally getting some friction on his dick. He hopes his pleased hum goes unheard, subtly wiggling his hips to adjust himself better.
The bed dips under Steve’s knees, lifting one like he’s about to straddle Eddie from behind.
“I can either sit on the back of your thighs for this part or—”
“Or.” Eddie doesn’t even know if he could have an orgasm like this, and as much as he’s aching for it, he doesn’t want to find out. “The other option, whatever it is.”
“Okay, just, uh,” Steve sounds unsure suddenly. Eddie looks over his shoulder, watching Steve arrange himself to sit on the bed with his legs out in front of him. “Lay across my lap. You can put the pillow between us.”
Eddie’s face does something that makes Steve crack an assuring smile.
This has ‘worst idea ever’ written all over it, but Eddie hasn’t made a smart choice since the night he decided to sell Chrissy Cunningham ketamine, so why start now.
Eddie can’t decide to look Steve in the eyes or stare at his lap as he climbs over, glancing up and down tentatively. Steve’s wearing shorts. Fuck. Eddie feels a twinge of disappointment covering his thighs with the pillow instead of burying his face in them.
He slowly leans over, encouraged by Steve’s hand on the small of his back. With a tiny gasp, he’s suddenly lying across Steve Harrington’s lap. There’s a pillow between them, but it's the closest Eddie’s ever been to him.
It’s different. A lot different. The soft pressure of the pillow makes him throb knowing Steve’s body is on the other side of it. The way he’s lying props his ass up more than anything, and he doesn’t have much but it feels like he’s on display. He reaches for another pillow to put under his head and chest so he’s more level.
“Good?” Steve stays still until Eddie manages to hum affirmatively. “Gonna start with the back of your legs.”
It’s the softest press of Steve’s fingertips, but Eddie still shoves his knuckle between his teeth and bites down on it. Steve slowly massages deeper and it hurts in a good way, rubbing the aches away. As Steve’s hands work up Eddie’s legs, his breath climbs higher and higher in his throat. Feeling Steve’s fingers brush the fleshy inside of his thighs, Eddie barely contains a shiver.
He’s never been touched like this before. It’s like his body is discovering nerves he never knew he had. It all leads right to his dick, fully hard against the pillow underneath him. He hasn’t felt that in months. His hips can barely keep still, giving a shallow jerk every now and then.
“Now your back. Is it alright if I lift your shirt a bit?”
Eddie hums, only wearing a loose black tank that’s already riding up.
Then Steve’s hands are sliding over Eddie’s lower back. His palms stretch warmly against Eddie’s bare skin, the first to ever feel him there, gripping both sides while thumbing deep circles. It gives Eddie a nice rocking motion that lets him subtly rut into the pillow.
It’s so… so good.
“How’s that feel?” Steve’s voice filters softly to Eddie’s state of half-bliss.
Eddie moves his hand to answer, but as soon as he opens his mouth, a long and low, body-rumbling, undeniable moan slips right out of him.
Steve’s hands pause. Eddie’s eyes fly open.
“Fuck, fuck, I’m sorry.” He tries to sit up, there’s no way Steve wants to be near him any longer, not when Eddie’s such a disgusting little freak getting off on—
“It happens,” Steve shrugs. His hands press firmly on Eddie’s back, wanting him to stay right there. “You still good?”
Eddie gawks over his shoulder, not finding a single joke on Steve’s face. Must be all the exertion making his cheeks flush. Other than that, he’s all earnest-eyed. It looks like he wants Eddie squirming and moaning in his lap.
Eddie falls face first into the bed, grumbling, “You’re being way too cool about this, man.”
Without denying the accusation, Steve continues. It’s hard for Eddie to keep overthinking when Steve’s hands are under his shirt, fingertips dipping into his waist while his thumbs rub along the edges of his spine. Eddie’s melting off his bones, unable to stop any noises from slipping out.
It’s almost like Steve’s doing it on purpose.
Every time Eddie makes a sound, Steve seems spurred on by it, working over the spot until he pulls another one out of Eddie. There’s no way he doesn’t notice how the motion is rocking Eddie against the pillow. It all puts Eddie in that half-blissed state again, where he feels too comfortable and starts saying things he shouldn’t.
“It doesn’t… “just happen” to me. Not anymore,” Eddie admits, his voice coming out cracked and small.
“Stress, huh? Yeah, I figured.” Steve doesn’t ask Eddie to explain, putting him even more at ease. “Same thing happened to me after my first trip to the monster park, y’know. You’ll get it out of your head eventually.”
“I don’t think it’s Vecna’s monsters as much as it’s my own. My dick is just depressed, man. So it's kinda rare for it to, uh, perk up like this.”
The pause that follows is tighter than a bat’s tail around Eddie’s neck. He feels like he dies and chokes back to life when Steve speaks again.
“Then you probably wanna, like, take advantage of it,” Steve suggests. His hands don’t show any sign of stopping to let Eddie go take advantage of it on his own.
The last thing Eddie wants is to end up sweaty and frustrated in his sheets again. It’s not like he’s trying to get off on this, it’s just better than anything he’s felt in a while.
“No, I haven’t been able to— It wouldn’t end good, I’d rather just—” Do this. As pathetic as it is, as much as he’s already humiliated himself beyond repair, he wants to keep going even if it doesn’t go anywhere.
“Oh- okay.” Steve’s voice is shaky for some reason, but his hands feel so sure holding Eddie. “Yeah, just focus on whatever feels good. I wanna help, I don’t mind.”
Steve gives his waist an encouraging squeeze, one that makes his hips twitch against the pillow. Eddie decides to let the urge win, giving one slow but obvious thrust to show what he wants, asking if it’s okay.
Steve’s answer comes with another squeeze that has Eddie holding back a shiver. “I don’t mind, Eddie.”
It takes another tight, breathless moment before Eddie can even believe what Steve said. It’s like his body is tentatively aware that he’s allowed to move now, his hips rolling down on their own.
Arousal courses through him stronger than he’s felt in months, making his cock leak, sticky inside his underwear. He can’t hold back another moan, half-muffled in the sheets as he thrusts shallowly.
“God, you sound so…” Steve trails off and Eddie can’t tell if that’s good or bad.
“Sorry, fuck.”
“No, don’t— You don’t have to say sorry for that.” One of Steve’s palms flattens over the small of Eddie’s back, pushing lightly to guide him to rut against the pillow. “You don’t have to stop.”
The question Eddie wants to ask melts in his mouth, because he’s humping a pillow in Steve Harrington’s lap and he doesn’t have to stop, and somehow it’s not a dream. It’s all weird and wrong in his head, which unfortunately and amazingly turns him on even more.
“Steve, man, I’m probably gonna… m’gonna...”
Eddie doesn’t know if he could come like this, but the way Steve earnestly admits, “I want you to,” makes him feel so fucking close.
Using all his willpower to stop, Eddie sits up on his elbows, he has to make sure this is real and he’s not as crazy as he feels.
The sight of Steve blows the small remaining sane part of Eddie’s mind. Under a sheen of sweat, Steve’s eyes are locked on Eddie like he sees something he wants. Eddie almost looks behind him to see what Steve is looking at because, surely, it can’t be him.
“Are you sure? When you said you wanted to explore… is this… with me… I don’t mind, clearly, hah,” Eddie dips his head awkwardly at himself sprawled across Steve’s lap. “But, are you sure you won’t freak out on me tomorrow?”
Steve works his jaw around the question, chews it over and sounds like his mouth is watering when he says, “I wanna do this with you. Today, tomorrow. I just want to, okay?”
Eddie thinks he manages to form his lips in the shape of an OK.
“I want— Can I keep touching you? Please?” Steve asks, his fingers spreading across Eddie’s lower back, trying to touch as much of Eddie as he can and it feels like he wants more. Eddie’s used to the opposite lately, people flinching away like the air turns ice cold when he walks by, glaring at him when he comes into their sight. Yet that didn’t shake up his world like this.
“Jesus. Yeah, Steve. You can touch me.”
“Where—”
“Wherever you want.” Eddie barely stops his mouth from running wild, begging, everywhere.
One of Steve’s hands draws Eddie’s shirt up his middle. He soothes the newly naked skin, Eddie’s spine tingling as Steve’s fingers trail down the notches. Like he’s counting them, memorizing every inch of Eddie. When his other hand slides over Eddie’s ass, the shape of it is warm even through Eddie’s boxers. Eddie pushes into it greedily and to his amazement, Steve pushes back, rocking him into the pillow.
The drag of all the fabric is rough and Eddie’s pre-come is drying in his pubes, but having Steve guide each thrust by hand is all he needs. Eddie’s muffling more noises into the sheets, content with that for a while, until he feels Steve’s fingers hook into his waistband.
“Eddie, can I—”
“Fuck— Yeah, take them off.”
With a gentle sense of urgency, Steve slides Eddie’s boxers down his thighs.
There’s no time to worry that it’s an underwhelming sight because Steve’s hand slides right over Eddie’s ass. His touch feels appreciative.
“God, Eddie, you look— Whatever you want, just tell me.”
He sounds so eager to give and Eddie can’t stop himself from asking, “There’s, um. Lube in the drawer there. You can touch me in— inside, if you wanna, y’know, explore.”
“Explore your ass?” Steve laughs lightly, breaking up the tension wound tight inside Eddie. His hand disappears to root through the bedside table. “You gotta work on your dirty talk, babe, I thought you were some kinda wordsmith. That was the most unsexy way to say that.”
Babe
What the fuck. Eddie’s gonna lose the ability to speak at all if Steve calls him that again.
“Oh forgive me, it’s hard to keep a sexy ambiance when you pop my joints like popcorn. That damages my charisma to zero.”
Amused, Steve hums as his hands spread over Eddie’s ass. He palms the slightest handful, enough to part Eddie’s cheeks.
Jesus Christ.
Eddie hears Steve’s breath catch at the sight of his exposed hole and tries not to clench up. A blunt fingernail lightly trails up the back of his balls.
Fuck, he tries not to die.
Then Steve’s lube-slick thumb rubs a wet circle over his hole, and Eddie lets out a noise that sounds close to his last strangled breath.
Steve’s not tentative and curious for long, gaining confidence to toy with Eddie’s rim, gripping Eddie’s cheek with his other hand. He passes the wet pad of his thumb back and forth, it feels— it sounds— it’s effortless pleasure between Steve’s finger and rutting into the pillow soaked with Steve’s body heat. Eddie’s legs fall open wider when the tip dips inside just enough to feel himself stretch.
“You’re plenty sexy. No dice roll needed.” It’s annoyingly hot that Steve can still carry the conversation.
Meanwhile, Eddie’s whimpering like he’s dying. “You don’t even like guys.”
“I think I like you.”
“Steve…”
“Eddie, I have my finger in your ass and I feel like the luckiest guy in the world. I’m pretty sure that means I like you.”
“Fuck, are you trying to kill me or something? Why are you saying that?”
“Because I mean it— Sorry. Is it too much?”
Steve goes stiff with hesitance. His finger lifts away and the loss devastates Eddie, needing to assure Steve that there’s literally nothing he wants more right now.
“No, it’s not— I just didn’t know you— me?” It’s too much in the best way. A wreck of feelings he never imagined he’d get to feel. Steve likes him? Eddie?
Steve’s touch returns. Not a teasing finger, but a hand on his waist and a question that grips Eddie just as thoroughly.
“You wanna turn over?”
“You really want me to?”
“Yeah. I wanna see you.”
Eddie turns and lets himself indulge a little when Steve’s hands take over this time.
Seeing Steve’s face knocks Eddie’s heart off beat. His hair is an artful mess from dragging his hand through it, cheeks colored hot and his gaze is wide and heavy on Eddie. His glasses are slipping down his nose and only he could make sliding them off look so attractive. Jesus, fuck.
By the time Eddie is situated on the bed with his back across Steve’s lap, the pillow separating them is gone and Eddie can feel— Steve doesn’t just look turned on.
“Oh, holy shit, that’s a boner.” Steve is turned on. Eddie made Steve Harrington’s dick get hard. He’s going out of his mind about it, stupidly chuckling, “Does, uh, that happen with all your teammates too?”
“No, the locker room isn’t the same kinda hot and steamy as your fantasies.” Steve smiles, lips tilted slightly unsure, shifting underneath Eddie. Denim grazes his lower back and his whole body is rubbed hot. “Just you. Is that okay?”
“Yeah. It’s so okay. I can not stress enough how okay it is, Steve.”
There Eddie’s mouth goes being stupid again. He clamps it shut.
Steve looks down at his lips, his smile getting more confident as his eyes rove over Eddie stretched across his lap. He’s got one arm around Eddie’s shoulders, while the other is free to roam. He uses it to slide Eddie’s boxers down his legs. When they hit the floor, Eddie doesn’t think he’s ever felt more naked in his life.
He knows his dick has never been this hard. Only getting harder the longer Steve stares at him, squirming a little and twitching under the attention.
“You’re so hard, too,” Steve sounds marveled. “When’s the last time you got off?”
Eddie swallows the whine coming up his throat. Steve’s hand is on his thigh, so close to where Eddie’s aching hard and wants him the most. It’s tough to focus on forming words.
“I don’t know. In my sleep, I guess? Sometimes I just… Like, wake up all wet.”
“So you didn’t even get to feel it.” Steve’s eyes trail up to Eddie’s face, leaving a path of heat behind. His lips part, a breathy question escaping, “You want me to help you come?”
“Jesus Christ, Steve.” A whine slips out. “Yeah.”
“Tell me how. Like, what worked before?”
Eddie ignores the doubt screaming in his mind that there’s no way this is happening. He shouldn’t ask Steve for anything, he doesn’t need this, he’s just being greedy and pathetic.
“Fingers.” Oh fuck it, he is greedy and pathetic, already drawing his knee up. “Want your fingers in me, I do that to myself all the time.”
Steve reaches straight for the bottle of lube. He slicks up his fingers like Eddie should get whatever he asks for. Eddie’s close to believing it when Steve’s hand slips between his thighs, carefully watching Eddie’s face as he presses inside.
Eddie’s hand flies up to grab the tail end of his hair. He fights the urge to stuff it in his mouth, muffling any embarrassing noises. It’s not a new feeling, he’s fingered himself plenty, but it’s the first time he’s felt someone else inside him. Steve slips in the first knuckle, then all the way because Eddie’s already bearing down for more.
It’s easy to feel good for the first time in so long.
Steve doesn’t make him beg, the sweetheart. He starts fingering Eddie, pushing into every needy clench with intent, dragging out slowly, rubbing Eddie’s insides just right.
“You feel so hot,” Steve says just above a murmur, like he didn’t mean to, imagining something other than his fingers sinking inside. Eddie can’t help but clench again. “Almost as hot as you look on the outside too.”
“God.” And this dork insulted Eddie’s dirty talk? That was awful. Eddie’s pissed it’s working on him. “Bend your finger a little, like curl it in.”
“Oh, is there a spot or something in—”
Eddie interrupts with a disaster of a moan. Clearly, yes that’s the spot that has all of Eddie’s nerves firing off, trembling in Steve’s lap, hand twisting in Steve’s shirt. A mess.
“Wow, Eddie,” Steve sounds downright amazed.
“Yeah wow, there, like that. Another finger, please.”
Steve, beautiful Steve, gives Eddie what he asks for. The stretch aches in a good way. Eddie fucks himself on Steve’s fingers in small thrusts that make his tank top ride up his belly. And Steve, wonderful Steve, keeps rubbing the spot that sends toe-curling heat through him.
“And I— oh fuck,” Eddie hears himself panting, “Usually jerk off while I’m doing it.”
“Okay, get the lube.” It’s not a demand, Steve just sounds breathlessly eager for it, which has Eddie fumbling for the bottle. “Get your hand wet so you can touch yourself. I wanna see.”
It’s never felt so good, doing what he’s told.
He watches Steve watching him, looking mesmerized by Eddie wrapping his wet fist around his dick. Steve licking his lips at the sight makes Eddie twitch in his own hand, drawing out a warm pulse of pre-come.
“Yeah, Eddie, that’s good.”
Eddie buries his face into Steve’s chest. Hopefully, muffling his embarrassing noises and the color burning on his cheeks.
The steady thrum of desire is building inside him, desperate to push him over the edge he hasn’t reached in months. But it feels further away the closer he gets. It’s right there, taunting him. Eddie’s just too much of a coward to chase it. Afraid that if he tightens his fist, fucks into the feeling like he deserves it, it’ll just slip away again.
Steve’s giving him more than enough right now. Holding Eddie, sinking his fingers deep where there’s nothing but pleasure, telling Eddie he’s good despite everything in him saying the opposite, seriously, what more does he need?
“Steve…” Eddie lifts his head again, feeling like he could just fucking cry. “I wanna come so bad.”
Steve’s arm tightens around his back, cradling him closer. “I know, I know you do.” His face is inches from Eddie, murmuring so softly, his expression so tender despite how relentlessly he’s finger-fucking Eddie. “Don’t stress about it, just let me make you feel good, baby.”
Baby
Steve reacts regretfully to whatever state of shock he sees on Eddie’s face. “Shit, sorry.”
“No, it’s—” Eddie stifles out, “Crazy you even want to call me that. God, you’re gonna fuck me up, Steve.” He accepts his fate, letting Steve’s soft, smug relief fuck him up a little more.
Eddie squeezes the flushed head of his cock, taking a shivery breath. “Am I still doing good?”
Steve gives him more of that spine-tingling praise he’s seeking. It’s not anything eloquent or practiced in a smooth voice. It’s like a flood Steve can’t hold back.
“You’re doing perfect, so perfect,” Steve professes. The words hot and tight and gorgeous spill like molten honey through Eddie’s veins. Steve’s voice is desperate, saying Eddie’s opening up so good for him, begging Eddie to come everywhere, he wants to see it, wants to feel it.
The tips of Eddie’s ears burn with every word.
Steve has a way of lacing compliments with adoration and Eddie’s addicted to the sound. He’s not used to this kind of attention, didn’t realize how much he was fucking starving for it. He’s practically moaning louder than Steve and all the wet noises now. Beyond needy, his hips thrust shallowly into his fist and down on Steve’s thick fingers, shamelessly chasing the feeling.
The familiar hot crest builds from the base of his cock. He’s so close, please, he’s so close.
“Good, Eddie, let it happen, let yourself have it.”
“Steve, I’m gonna—”
“There you go, baby, come.”
Eddie’s orgasm hits him like hell.
It quakes through his body. So intense it almost hurts. It doesn’t fit inside him, spilling out in a messy string of noises and thick spurts of cum that don’t seem to end. It feels too good to belong to him, but Steve’s reassuring words sink deep. Eddie’s ever-growing doubt is rooted out by bloom after bloom of pleasure and he lets himself have it.
Relieved tears are brimming in his eyes as the last waves shudder through him. He blinks through the blur to see Steve marveling at him again.
Eddie opens his mouth to speak, to breathe, to thank Steve or something, because holy shit that was incredible.
He’s only able to huff out a dazed laugh before he’s being kissed.
Steve’s warm mouth crushes against the dumb smile on his lips.
Eddie blinks in surprise, quickly getting over the small shock and threading his sticky fingers into Steve’s hair.
It’s his first real kiss. The first one he loses his breath in. The only one he slips his tongue into and tastes. It’s open and breathy and wet. Eddie’s inexperience shows, the angle is off, it’s nowhere near perfect. Steve still meets every needy lick of Eddie’s tongue with an eager curl of his own.
Then it slows. Steve draws out his movements, making them easy for Eddie to follow. He leans down, fits his nose next to Eddie’s and follows the shiny strings of saliva leading their mouths back together. Now it’s a deep kiss. Eddie feels it fluttering through his insides when Steve’s tongue slides against his. When he breaks for a breath, Steve sucks on his lip, unwilling to leave a piece of Eddie behind, making Eddie feel like something decadent.
Every little noise Eddie makes rumbles softly into the kiss. He gets louder when Steve’s fingers shift inside him, a small thrum of achy pleasure.
Then Steve pulls back and Eddie’s face crumbles into a silent cry of protest.
“Fuck, sorry.” Steve’s breath ghosts warmly against Eddie’s wet lips. “Man, that was like, beautiful, I don’t even know.” His eyes are blown wide with lust, raking down Eddie’s body and back to his face. “God, you’re still hard. You’re fucking me up, Eddie. Now every time I touch myself, I’m gonna think about you.”
“Steve,” Eddie sounds like that just made him come for the second time, “You wanna fuck me?”
Oh, the look on Steve’s face.
He dips back down, pressing the desperate noise he makes into Eddie’s lips. “Are you sure?” He asks between the wet smack of kisses. “You have to be sure because— I feel crazy about you— can’t be casual if I’m your first, gonna keep you.”
Eddie’s head falls back, blissfully overwhelmed with Steve’s words and his goddamn mouth, trailing down, kissing Eddie’s jaw, sucking his neck.
“Steve, that makes me want you more. Have you met me? I love crazy, come on, baby, fuck me up.”
Steve’s teeth graze Eddie’s throat, wanting to sink in but pulling back, gently slipping out his fingers too. Overstimulation rubs Eddie wrong but his half hard cock still throbs, making him hiss. Steve gives his lips an apologetic peck before he levers Eddie off his lap, standing up from the bed.
Eddie’s eyes follow him, of course. Steve Harrington is stripping off his shirt and jeans, where the fuck else would Eddie be looking? Steve’s like a skin mag come to life. A lusty picture of sweat and body hair and scars. His figure is all filled out now, layered thick and sturdy with the most biteable belly Eddie’s ever seen.
Trimmed dark curls peek over the line of Steve’s underwear, which he slides down too. Eddie chokes a little when his cock bobs free, still in disbelief at the effect he has on Steve, but it’s undeniable. Steve’s ridiculously pretty cock is fully aroused, red at the tip and leaking.
Eddie swallows the gush of spit that fills his mouth.
The sound of foil crumpling draws Eddie’s eyes up, seeing that Steve found the scatter of condoms in the drawer. Past-Eddie grabbed a handful from the clinic because he never says no to free shit, not because he ever had any hope of using them. Never imagined Steve Harrington tearing one open with his teeth and looking at Eddie like that as he rolls it on.
Jesus fucking Christ. Eddie is so hard again already, he never completely softened, still edging on that pent-up feeling. He shifts around, taking his shirt off too, trying to find a good position.
The massage did wonders, Eddie’s hips feel nice and stretched loose. He indulges the fantasy that Steve was prepping him to get folded up and fucked. He ends up lying comfortably on his back, spreading his legs wide and tucking his hands under his knees to draw them up. Every piece of him feels hot on display, just begging to be touched again.
“You want me like this?” Eddie looks over, his belly swooping when he finds Steve watching him.
Steve is shamelessly stroking his cock, his gaze heavy with want as it passes over Eddie. He’s staring like he can’t look away as he climbs onto the bed.
“Jesus, Eddie.” Steve’s knuckles teasingly trail Eddie’s inner thighs. “And you called me a slut.”
God damn it, Eddie whines. It’s unexpectedly hot, the sting of that mean little word coming from Steve while Eddie’s spread open like this.
“Oh? You like that?” Steve’s brows raise, clearly thrilled with this discovery.
“Shut up, don’t tease me, I might come so hard I die.”
“Okay, relax,” Steve says, soothing but amused. “I need you too bad to tease you right now.”
Thank fuck.
Steve fits himself between Eddie’s legs, careful not to jostle his bad ankle. Then the wet head of Steve’s cock slides between his cheeks, nudging his hole and Eddie relaxes despite his eagerness, letting Steve slowly slip inside. His eyes fall shut with the achy stretch, bigger than any toy he’s taken.
Eddie’s body shapes itself around Steve’s thick length. All the way down, fitting into the solid cradle of his hips, sensitive to the brush of hair there and fleshy skin. Eddie feels Steve with every breath and every beat of his heart, filling him up. So much. So real.
“Oh, fuck, wow.” Eddie sighs an amazed little laugh. “That’s a big boy.”
Steve bends to press his lips to Eddie’s. It’s a sloppy, desperate kiss. Eddie opens his mouth to it, humming as Steve’s fingers slip into his hair, kissing him into the pillow. Just for a moment while Eddie adjusts, despite how much Steve wants to move, his body tense with the effort.
It’s not long before Eddie’s craving movement too, wiggling down on Steve’s cock.
Steve breaks the kiss with a groan, sitting up and curling his hands around Eddie’s waist, starting to move in and out. The stretch eases into a steady drag of pleasure.
Steve’s watching Eddie’s reaction from above. He’s so gorgeous like this, hair falling in his face, brows upturned with how good Eddie feels to him. Eddie’s making Steve feel good. This shouldn’t be real.
It’s a flicker of doubt, despite Eddie chasing the stupid feeling away, Steve still catches it.
“You know what you did to me the first time you called me that?” Steve strains, almost grunting, stroking deeper into Eddie. “I knew you were flirting with me. The world was ending and all I could think about was how much I liked it.” Steve pins Eddie’s hips to the bed and, oh, he’s fucking Eddie now. “You made me want you so much. Then you almost didn’t come back to me, you asshole, I wanted you.”
“You got me now,” Eddie promises, voice tight, so full of Steve that he barely has room for air, let alone any more doubts. “I’m yours, I wanna be yours so bad.”
Steve’s grip tightens almost possessively. Eddie goes dizzy with the thought of him leaving bruises behind. His head tips back on the pillow with a moan, hands coming up to twist in his own hair when Steve’s cock nudges his prostate. His body loves the shape of Steve, rippling with arousal at the slam of Steve’s hips, the deep pounding inside him, rubbing that perfect spot just right.
Steve leans back, slowing down to watch himself pull out and push back in.
“You feel so good, so tight,” Steve says through huffs of breath, “So pretty like this, letting me have you, oh, fuck, not gonna last.”
“I’m not going to either if you keep saying that shit.” Eddie’s surprised he can even form words. Then he unravels into nothing but messy noises when Steve’s hand closes around his cock.
“Good.” Steve strokes Eddie along with his thrusts, thumb circling the tip every few. He angles his hips just right as he builds up a skin-clapping rhythm, moaning when Eddie clenches around him and bucks into his fist.
“Wanna make you come on yourself. Let me fuck you through it, baby, please.”
Steve’s begging and Eddie can’t help but give in, whimpering as his spine arches into the mounting pleasure.
“That’s it, make a mess for me, that’s a good boy,” Steve’s breathy praise sends Eddie over the edge with something broken like a sob.
Eddie feels like his whole body is weeping in relief as his cock pulses wet, warm streaks all over his belly and chest and dribbles down Steve’s fingers. It’s like a new feeling, touching deep where he hasn’t been able to reach in so long, to places he forgot he could feel at all.
Tears slip through his lashes with the intensity, feeling Steve’s other hand come to wipe them away.
Steve’s hips slow but don’t stop, keeping his word, and Eddie lies there for a few spacey moments until his orgasm is thoroughly fucked out of him. He whines for Steve to let go of his cock. Then he can think again, moving his hips to meet Steve’s messy thrusts, mouth curling up at the groan of his name from above.
Despite how oversensitive he is, Eddie pulls his knees back further. It still feels good, a different type of good, letting Steve fold him over, fuck into him deeper and look at him with all that lusty amazement.
“So special, so good, Eddie, good baby,” Steve babbles before his hips stagger to a stop, just grinding into Eddie as he comes, throbbing inside him.
Eddie wouldn’t mind Steve just collapsing on him and smothering him with his weight, trapping him in this moment. But Steve gently slips out of Eddie, leaving him feeling oddly gaped open and dropping a kiss to his wrinkled nose, tying off the condom.
He goes willingly when Eddie pulls him down on the bed. He slips in beside Eddie, warm eyes half-lidded and sporting an afterglow that Eddie can only hope looks half as gorgeous on him. Reality is trying to sink in, but Eddie can’t get past the staggering wave of disbelief, hitting him with a breathless laugh that Steve leans in and kisses off his lips.
It starts light and sweet. Little pecks between breaths. Fingertips carding through his hair, cradling his jaw in place.
Then it’s slow and deep and all-consuming.
There’s a thigh slipped between Eddie’s. Steve’s careful not to kick Eddie’s ankle, leg hairs brushing softly together.
There’s hands roaming. Eddie reaches around Steve’s waist, spreads his palm over his ass and feels drunk on the moan Steve slips into the kiss, swallowing it down.
There’s smiling lips pressed to his, and an arm around him too, and come smearing from his belly onto Steve’s, and Eddie’s never been more satisfied to make a mess.
Eddie has nothing to run from. Nowhere else he wants to be.
Just right here, letting himself be kissed, and touched, and held.
What he deserves isn’t even a question right now. He’s just a sponge soaking up whatever Steve gives him. Licks into his mouth, nuzzles against his nose, little nips to his lip, everything, anything.
Eventually, they’re mouthing lazy half-kisses and then just laying together, Steve’s hair falling on Eddie’s pillow. Just gorgeous there. Eddie doesn’t even want to blink and have to look away from him for a second.
To Eddie’s disbelief and amazement, Steve’s looking back at him with the same need.
Eddie keeps the doubt from creeping up as long as he can, trying not to crack under Steve’s gaze. He doesn’t want to darken the afterglow with his worries about tomorrow, already thinking of how to let Steve off free from the promises he made. Hey, being balls deep in a guy makes you say crazy things, it was nothing, forget about it.
Eddie’s got the bitter taste of cynicism filling his mouth when Steve’s hands softly cup his face.
“Come with me to Chicago.”
That’s… not what Steve was supposed to say.
The part of Eddie that always scoffs at the idea of anything good happening to him is ready to laugh it off.
“Is that your usual pillowtalk or am I special?”
“It’s not— Sorry, I know I’m springing a lot on you.” Steve isn’t taking it back. Why isn’t he taking it back? “But I didn’t come over to smoke, Eddie, I’ve been trying to ask you that for weeks.”
Steve’s insisting. He’s practically wrapping it up with a bow and putting Eddie’s name on it. There’s no reason for Eddie not to take it. There’s nothing keeping him here, Wayne already knows what he’s been saving up for, it’s only a matter of time before Hawkins chews him up and spits him out anyway. There’s no better option than this, getting out and going with Steve, Eddie shouldn’t be hesitating to just take it.
“Shit, that’s, Steve, I don’t know if I could just…”
“You can. We’ve already talked about it, me and Robin.” Steve’s thumbs stroke Eddie’s face, assuring him like they’re walking through hell again. Determined not to leave Eddie behind this time. “And, uh, our place has three rooms and we sorta can’t afford it if we don’t split the rent three ways, so.”
Eddie’s chest loosens enough to laugh at that. Steve reaches up, gently pushing Eddie’s sweaty bangs off his forehead.
“You wanna get outta here so bad, you need a fresh start and you can have one. Come with us. With me.” Steve’s eyes shift between Eddie’s, a hopeful look in them that Eddie wouldn’t dare say no to.
All Eddie can manage is a shaky, “Yeah, okay.” But it feels like the bravest thing he’s done since facing down a storm of demobats somehow.
He feels brave, letting himself imagine his life after this, a little house in Chicago, more space to get around with his cane, his shoes next to Robin and Steve’s on the doormat, moving away from this town that always hated him. Not running away, but moving on.
Steve smiles, leaning in like this is the most important part for Eddie to hear.
“I made sure there’s no stairs.”
Eddie kisses him.
It’s hard and fast and clumsy and Steve’s half-laughing and Eddie’s more than halfway in love with him. It’s better than good. It’s all the things Eddie forgot he could even feel, or maybe he never knew at all.
He lets himself have it.