Chapter 1: Thou’art Slave to Fate, Chance, Kings, and Drunken Men
Chapter Text
“Incarnate devil in a talking snake,
The central plains of Asia in his garden,
In shaping-time the circle stung awake,
In shapes of sin forked out the bearded apple,
And God walked there who was a fiddling warden
And played down pardon from the heavens' hill.
When we were strangers to the guided seas,
A handmade moon half holy in a cloud,
The wisemen tell me that the garden gods
Twined good and evil on an eastern tree;
And when the moon rose windily it was
Black as the beast and paler than the cross.
We in our Eden knew the secret guardian
In sacred waters that no frost could harden,
And in the mighty mornings of the earth;
Hell in a horn of sulphur and the cloven myth,
All heaven in the midnight of the sun,
A serpent fiddled in the shaping-time.”
- Incarnate Devil by Dylan Thomas
Act I: Death and Recoil
The sky is always red now. It’s as though the very air is coated with the blood now drying in the streets, caked in puddles, the fresh of it smelling of ripe and rot.
It dusts under Steve’s boots like the broken leaves of the late autumn months, like the way it was before. It flows freely from the open wound in his left arm, mixing with the red under his feet in an invisible trail. To the naked eye at least.
It’s hard to believe he isn’t in the Upside Down. No, now the Upside Down is here.
He hears a screech far off, a bat’s lonely call. He doesn’t flinch at it, far too used to it from these past few months. Seven months, only seven. It took only seven months for the world to die.
Steve stumbles slightly over a root, hissing out a curse as it jostles him. His already sprained ankle twisting in flares of agony as he refuses to stop walking. You can’t stay in the same place too long. Not alone, never alone.
In his right hand he holds his bat, the nails looking rusty and old with the death rotting on it. Black dripping off the flesh still hanging on- the wood beneath it slimy and gross. It is not the most glamorous weapon, Nancy taking the cake there with her guns galore, but it gets the job done. It protects him. It protects his family.
Gritting his teeth he uses the bat as a sort of crutch, pushing off the ground as he climbs a hill, digging a nail into a stray root for good measure. It helps with his anger. He finds that he’s angry a lot these days. So many have died, the small town he’s been trapped in his whole life like a graveyard. A ghost town, empty.
What remains of the people he watched grow up, the ones who didn’t escape in time, are bodies. Rotting corpses that only the dogs and bats feed off of now. No use calling them with their full monster title when they are the only that remain. The larger, more dangerous ones don’t eat the dead. They have found a taste for fresh meat, for screams and cries. Warm blood.
Steve listens, straining his ears for the sounds of death. He doesn’t know whether or not to be comforted by the silence. He hates when it’s quiet. Quiet means alone. Alone means death.
He hopes Robin and Dustin are alright.
He never did get the chance to check on them before he had to lead the demogorgon away, sprinting so fast he isn’t sure if his feet ever even touched the ground at all. He knows the thing never circled back for them, not with the way its skin is currently hanging dead and limp off the nails of his bat.
That doesn’t change the fact they are not vulnerable now. Robin can fight, but she’s sloppy, not as used to it as Steve. Dustin… he’s just a kid, a hurt kid who can’t even run now. His ankle never healed properly, not with the world dying around him. He never bothered getting it set, too worried about everyone else. Steve begged him, pleaded, but the boy wouldn’t listen. He barely spoke. Just stared at the spot of floor he could see between his hanging hands, barely blinking, barely breathing.
Hopper had said it was grief.
Steve hasn’t seen Hopper in four months.
The two have only one weapon between them now. One of Nancy’s guns that got abandoned when they were forced apart not long ago. It has maybe three bullets left at most. He knows they are resourceful, he just hopes they have enough time to even try. Hopes that they have enough time to wait.
He doesn’t know what for, it’s not like he can fight, not in the state he’s in. His leg is a liability and his arm is currently benched off the court. He staggers as he misses a step. He doesn’t know where he’s walking, he knows he’s at the edge of town, he knows this isn’t safe. He’s just following the tug tug tug in his chest.
He just needs to find them. He needs to find them. Please let them be okay.
He wills his legs to move with a painful grunt, a borderline whimper. He starts running, biting back his cries of pain as each step sends fire up his leg. He can’t be loud. The edge of town is full of monsters, keeping them in, keeping them caged.
He runs.
But the longer he runs the more lost he gets. He’s in the woods now. Red vines run everywhere, wrapping around trees he once knew as familiar, his surroundings a stranger in his eyes now. He panics, stopping to breathe, jerking around to try to find something, anything he knows.
He doesn’t.
Out of his good ear he hears a hiss behind him, a crunch.
Panic sets in and his feet move again before he tells them to, taking him between gaps in the trees, making a path of their own as he kicks leaves and brush into piles beneath the soles of his boots. The sharp angles sending them flying behind him.
It reminds him humorously of the Sunday cartoons from his childhood.
He grips the bat in his hands, angled away from his chest in case he slips and falls. That would be a stupid death, and Steve has been stupid his whole life, he won’t die that way. Refuses too, not now when he's finally useful.
He can hear something following him, it's too quick to be a demogorgon, too large to be a demodog. It crashes between trees, knocking down the small ones with its strength. He tries taking a sharp left, trying to lose it. Most of the things that come from the Upside Down are dumb, stupid animal-like creatures that know only their instincts and their hunger.
The thing following him is not that.
The thing following him is clever, smart. It keeps up with him, knowing when to turn to stay right there. Steve can hear it behind him, the hissing sounding like laughter, like this is amusing, like it's hunting him.
Steve’s blood turns cold.
It’s hunting him.
What Steve does next he blames entirely on some fucked up survival technique. Some screw that got knocked loose in his head taking control of his actions. Maybe it's just his fear, maybe it's just the fact that Robin and Dustin would die without him. Maybe he just doesn’t want to go without a fight.
But he does it anyway.
He stops, his first mistake. Spins right around on his heel, his second. And hits the thing as hard as he possibly can.
I’m sure you can deduce that that’s the third.
Steve staggers backwards as he hears it yell out in pain, a screech similar to the bats flying in the trees above. It’s like an orchestra, a symphony.
Steve dropped the bat when he swung, it slipping from his fingers with the slick his own blood created. It’s between them now, too far to grab, too close to tempt. He curses; eyes wide as he backs further away from the tall looming creature.
He’s never seen anything like this before.
It’s tall, very tall, around a whole two feet taller than Steve, probably more due to the slouch it is in. It has wings protruding from its back like two inky wells, the red is lost to it. The rest of it is hidden by its wings, a clawed hand covering its face as it stays frozen still. He knows it's watching him through the gaps.
Steve’s breath picks up, shaky with fear and exertion. He slowly backs away as the bats circle him. They don’t touch him; they haven’t bothered him since Eddie died.
He feels a pang of anger and grief at the thought. He hates himself for it.
Dustin still blames him.
He doesn’t fight it. He never fights it, not even when Dustin is screaming at him, hitting at his chest as he curses and cries. Not when he holds him in his arms as Dustin sobs, hating the world around them. So no, he doesn’t fight it.
Not when he blames himself too.
His back hits a tree, he knows he should run. Steve knows he should be fleeing while he has the chance, but he can’t bring himself too. Briefly he wonders if this is the same feeling that led him into the woods in the first place. He wonders if this is why he didn’t just turn around and go back the way he came from.
He was searching for his friends, he thought. Why did he find this instead?
The creature takes a step towards him, head hanging low so its long hair covers its face. Steve lets out a breath close to a whimper, he can hear his own heartbeat, taste it pulsing on his tongue. It's so loud he wonders if the creature can hear it as well.
The bats circle them.
Steve glances in fear as they swarm, slowly, taunting. He wonders if this is what Eddie saw, before he died. Before they killed him. He hopes it's not Dustin who finds his body, he hopes he doesn’t have to see, not again, never again.
“I wish it were you!” Steve flinches slightly at the memory. It was that very yell that had caught the demogorgons attention in the first place. What separated them. He hopes Dustin doesn’t feel guilty over his death too.
The creature stops, a curious-like tilt to its head. Though it could just be smelling him. He hopes he smells disgusting with sweat and death, hopes he’s an unsavory meal.
It steps over his nail bat.
The demobats pick up speed.
It’s in that second that Steve’s brain finally kicks in, blood returning to where it had abandoned. He chokes on it, refusing to let himself shake as the monster creeps forward.
Steve sinks to the ground, the familiar trees rotted bark scraping up his back as he goes. It looms above him, wings spreading out to cage Steve in.
He hears it again, the small guttural hiss coming from this thing’s throat, deep and raw and threatening.
Steve can’t see the bats anymore; he can’t hear them.
It leans closer, its face, still hidden behind long dark hair, is mere inches from Steve’s.
His hand finds a rock. His fingers grip tight.
And just when he’s about to swing and run with all that’s left in him, it stops. The creature rises to stand at full height, looking through the tree’s branches and at the red sky.
That’s when Steve sees it.
His heart stops, then it starts, too fast, too quick. He doesn’t know if it’s fear or longing or guilt. He drops the rock, not even hearing its crunch against the brush through the all-consuming ringing in his ears.
Eddie’s pale face looks back at him.
Calculating eyes, still a beautiful brown, but now with pupils like slits, watch him.
Like prey.
Steve breathes, it’s too shallow. He can feel the stretch of it in his chest, his lungs like atlas.
His fourth mistake, one so dumb Robin would bring him back to life just to kill him again- is Steve, reaching out his hand. His injured arm, coated in his red and life, extends to Eddie as he leans in again, thin pupils now dilated as he follows the scent of Steve’s blood.
He gulps, staring as at what once was Eddie, and very may as well be Eddie’s corpse, nudges his nose against his wrist and inhales. It sends a shiver down Steve’s spine, he sucks in a breath.
Eddie keeps his eyes on Steve the whole time.
Steve shakes, fear pooling in his gut. He doesn’t know what to do but he wants. This creature, this monster, is Eddie. Deathly pale and inhuman, but Eddie all the same. Eddie’s large wings twitch as he presses his slightly open mouth against the center of Steve’s red coated palm, inhaling so deep Steve can feel it in his own chest.
Oh, how Steve wants.
He wants to bring him with him, bring him to Dustin, reunite him with the rest of the family they have made from death and grief and fear.
But he doesn’t know where they are. He doesn’t know if they are alive.
But Eddie is.
Just, different.
He startles when Eddie jerks back, his long canines scraping against Steve’s palm and bringing up small welts of blood. He hisses in pain, but Eddie doesn’t seem to care. He is back to staring up at the sky, pupils once again like slits.
“Eddie?” He hears himself whisper. Eddie jerks to look at him again, with what looks to be like fear in his eyes. Then he moves.
The bats are swarming again. Steve can see them crash around as Eddie rushes backwards, wings lifting as he disappears through the leaves, the bats following with him.
Steve is left alone in the silence that follows, lost and confused.
But there’s something else in his chest now, something new, something delicate.
Something he hasn’t felt since he wore another man’s vest on his shoulders and told him not to be a hero.
Hope.
He just hopes that it once again doesn’t come crashing all down around him.
Many hours later, with the sky now dark, a maroon of sorts, so deep that the red is close to black, Steve finds himself outside of an abandoned car repair garage.
His shirt is off, tied around the wound on his arm so tight he can feel the numbness in his fingertips. He’s cold, shivering as he uses his bat to break in a side window. Glass shatters and he listens, he listens for a while.
Once he’s sure that he won’t be attacked immediately after he enters, he hoists himself through the small opening, grunting as he does so due to the strain in his injuries. It isn’t an easy maneuver, and he ends up finding himself flat on his back on the ground inside the room. He grits his teeth through the pain, just glad he didn’t hit his head in the fall. He’s not too winded, more just dizzy.
Staggering to his feet Steve grabs his bat from where it landed next to him, tiptoeing around the small office. He kicks open a few drawers, ready to strike, but nothing shows. The longer he searches the more relaxed he gets, secure. He finds a few energy bars. He pockets three of them and eats the fourth. It calms the overwhelming pain in his stomach.
He eyes the chair longingly, but he’s not going to risk falling asleep just yet. Slowly and quietly, Steve opens the door to the garage. He enters with his breath held quiet; bat held tightly at hip level.
He circles around the beat-up Dodge in the middle of the room, still propped up on a jack. The only sound is his own breathing and the slight drag of his right foot on the cement. There are not many places for anything to be hiding in the garage. He glances through the windows of the car, lifts the hood and the trunk. He finds a few half-emptied water bottles and decides to leave them there for now. There is a zipped-up bag in the trunk that after one wack he deduces there isn’t anything living inside and he figures it's best not to stink up the place in case there’s anything rotted.
After double, triple checking Steve sags against a wall. He eats another bar as he allows himself to rest for once, closing his eyes and breathing through his nose. It’s close to freezing now and he can see his own breath steaming in front of him. It’s not yet winter but it's close, the late October chill settling over the air like wildfire smoke.
After lingering a few more seconds in his quiet calm Steve pushes himself to move. His limp is far worse now, cramping with the cold. It takes twice as long to get back to the office as he uses the wall for support. Once he’s there he starts rummaging through the drawers with a new purpose.
It takes a good ten minutes until he finally finds the key to the locker in the corner of the room. He hops over on one foot, unlocking it and letting out a long sigh of relief when he sees a spare shirt folded inside next to what is clearly working shoes. He slips it on, careful not to mess up his homemade bandage. It’s dark green and snug, he pulls at the bottom of it, stretching it out so it isn’t hugging his stomach uncomfortably. It is unfortunately short sleeved and thin, and upon further investigation it is the only other piece of clothing in the locker.
He collapses into the chair, rubbing at his face tiredly. He glances through his fingers at his ankle, swollen and red. He sighs, reaching down to take off his boot with gritted teeth. It hurts like a bitch.
Steve is happy to realize it’s not as bad as he thought, just needing a few days of rest before he can get moving again. He briefly mourns the two energy bars already digesting in his stomach. He puts his boot back on and opens the top drawer of the desk, pulling out the pen and pad of paper he had found earlier in the midst of his desperate searching. He flips to a black page and starts writing.
Food- 2 bars - need more asap
Water in car 5 halfish empty - 3 full?
NEEDED!! FOUR DAYS REST !!!
1 2 3 4
He crosses off the first day and places down the pen, spinning the chair back and forth as he looks at it, heart in his throat. After a few agonizing seconds he picks it up again, gnawing at the inside of his cheek as he shakily writes:
Eddie is alive
He sucks in a breath, the chill harsh against his gums. He’s been pushing away the fact from his mind for hours, too scared to dwell on it in case it made him break apart. He certainly feels that way now, half of him still with Dustin and Robin, and the other left back in the woods where Eddie had fled.
He breathes out slowly, feeling it in his chest all the way to his stomach as it squeezes his lungs tight. “Fuck.” He practically wheezes out, clicking the pen closed and dropping it onto the desk so he can drop his face into his hands. His elbows press uncomfortably into the cold steel of the desktop, he keeps the weight off of his left arm, careful not to reopen the wound as he massages the spot between his eyebrows.
Eddie’s alive. He’s alive, which is the best thing to happen to Steve in years, the universe finally giving him something back that it took. But- he’s different.
Now that Steve’s mind isn’t clouded by shock he can actually think.
Eddie’s different.
He’s changed.
Not just the physical changes- no, he didn't seem human anymore at all. Even though he didn’t act like the other creatures from the Upside Down he definitely was one of them now.
It’s a terrifying thought to think.
But there’s something else under it all. An ache.
It chokes him, closes his throat so tight tears sting his eyes.
He missed him.
Steve tips his head back as the first tear falls, letting the warm drop slowly fall out of the corner of his eye and down over his temple, gravity taking it once it's past his ear. After the first comes a second, then a third, and now he is folding into himself as he stifles his sobs.
It’s strange, letting yourself finally grieve a man the very day you found out he’s still alive.
He always just let Dustin feel it, miss him, mourn him. Steve protected them well enough to where the boy could.
Steve always felt unworthy of it, he of all people didn’t deserve to mourn him.
They weren’t friends, and when they were he ruined it. He made Eddie hate him, all those years ago.
Steve never deserved to grieve.
He bites down on the inside of his cheek, tasting his own blood when the bones nick his tongue. He doesn’t have the luxury of being loud. His safety is hanging on by a level of noise, the window is still broken, anything can come in. It’s just best not to give them a reason too.
It takes longer than Steve cares to admit for him to get himself under control again, pushing all his baggage back into the corner of his mind he doesn’t have the time or safety to deal with. He hopes he didn’t fuck himself over with it. There’s a reason they never let Dustin be alone when he cried, no matter how much he hated them for it.
The monsters can sense distress.
He briefly curses himself once he feels the dryness of his mouth, already dehydrated body hating him for crying. He uses the chair to roll over to the door, standing carefully against the doorframe as he reaches around the wall to grab the hanging car keys to the Dodge. He limps over to it, unlocking it and sliding into the backseat with a grunt. He rolls down one of the front windows, grabbing the crank through the gap between the passenger seat and the car wall. It’s only open a crack, just enough to calm his anxiety about running out of safe air to breathe.
He presses down the car lock.
For a few seconds he just lays there, curled uncomfortably in the backseat. He stares up at the roof, tracing patterns where it looks like children scribbled shapes and lines in pen with his eyes.
He wonders what happened to them.
He thinks it would be better if they were dead than to be still alive in this.
He just hopes it was too quick to be a painful death.
Steve knows it would be painful any other way.
“I wish it were you!” At the time Steve had agreed, silently, deep inside his mind. He’s tired, so tired. He thought it was over. Usually, things always end after the third time. Books, movies, Robin had said it was some literary device about a character’s journey. The beginning, the middle, and the end. Starcourt was supposed to be the end. But then there was a fourth.
And Eddie died.
He always remembered being jealous of him, especially when it came to Dustin.
But after his death it was different. He was jealous still. Jealous in a way he could never say out loud, not even to Robin.
Yet now Eddie, or at least a form of him, is still alive-
And Steve still feels that jealousy deep in his chest, digging its way through his bones like the red vines outside in the earth, through the meat of his muscles and tangling around his nerves. The jealousy infects him, only now it's directed at the bodies rotting in the streets. It floors him slightly, makes it all far too real.
He lets out a shaky breath and decides to ignore it along with the dryness on his tongue. It is in that way he falls asleep and it is in that way he wakes, many long hours later.
There’s a noise outside the Dodge, a low sounding scrape over the concrete.
Steve lays quietly and still, a hand over his mouth so his breathing doesn’t become too loud. He’s weaponless, unless you count the small umbrella shoved into the space below the driver’s seat. He left his bat in the office, too out of it to think.
He wants to hit himself for his own stupidity, wants to scream and shout over his negligence. Yet he can’t, he is vulnerable and hurt. He can’t fight, he can’t run.
All he can do is lay there and wait.
It’s much harder to do than just thinking about doing it.
Steve fidgets, he always has, it’s gotten him in trouble more times than he can count. His mother thinking he’s being disrespectful, his father believing he’s tweaking out on some new drug. Teachers assuming his disinterest and abandoning him on the subject matter, not even bothering to explain if he so much as asked. Nancy had called it annoying, rolled her eyes whenever it showed. “Can you try being serious for two seconds, Steve? Just because you don’t care about your grades doesn’t mean I don’t too, stop moving around like you want something and let me work.”
He tries not to now, trying to settle his nerves into his focus, don’t move, don’t breathe, don’t make a sound.
Something bumps against the side of the car.
It’s strong enough that it jostles him out of his daze, fingers gripping into the cloth of the backseat. He feels it rub his fingertips painfully, a burn left in its wake.
It hits the side of the car again, this time harder.
Steve lets out an involuntary gasp, a quick suck in of air through his teeth as he prevents himself from falling onto the Dodge's floor.
He realizes his mistake a second too late.
There’s a growl coming through the thin layer of protection from the demodog and Steve’s head, it’s low, a chortle of sorts.
Steve recognizes it as a kind of calling sound.
He isn’t much of a religious person, never really had been into the church services his parents made him attend the few times they were home long enough to even bother going at all. The rest of that obligatory faith that had stuck on by the mere strength of small town social pressure was squashed under the boot of the existence of another reality his junior year in high school. It certainly isn’t something any god would ever allow.
At least the church got the hell part correct.
Yet when the dog throws its full weight against the car Steve thinks about praying. The Dodge falls off the jack holding it up, causing Steve to hit his head on the door’s arm painfully hard, he cries out involuntarily.
The demodog finds the small opening of the passenger seat’s window then, digging its claws into the car’s siding and trying to shove its face through the gap in the glass.
It snaps at the air, rows of teeth like a flower covered in rotted blood, stained with its meals.
It growls louder, a different noise.
Something hits the other side of the door where Steve is currently pressed against. He jerks away with wide eyes and a yell caught on his lips.
He understands what the dog’s call meant now.
Pack hunters.
He averts his eyes to the roof, imagining it to be a clear blue sky. He doesn’t really know how to pray, not used to it. The only time he had ever previously tried it was awkward and left him feeling empty and alone. Except that’s how he feels now, empty and utterly alone. He feels it’s at least worth a shot however, if he dies here then at least he might have a spot waiting for him in the afterlife.
He clears his throat, flinching as the next jarring ram into the car’s door is so hard it manages to dent it. He grips onto the seat’s back, holding on for balance. “I don’t know if you’re listening.” He tries, swallowing down the feeling of embarrassment that comes with it. “I know we’ve never really talked before, so I am sorry about that I guess.”
There’s a loud crashing from outside, he assumes it’s the rest of the pack breaking down the garage door. “But I could really use some help here.” Growls and barks surround him, he lets out a shaky cry. “Please.”
After a few seconds nothing happens and Steve feels incredibly small and stupid in the act, but then the barking turns to yelping and Steve is left watching helplessly as the window gets sprayed in dark blood.
He shakes as the sounds die out, watching Eddie Munson, wings spread and monstrous, drink from the dying dog through the mess of black blood, his long teeth sunk into its trembling neck.
And his dilated eyes staring into Steve’s through the glass.
Chapter 2: And the Name Died before the Man
Summary:
“What happened to you?” He breathes out, thumb stroking over Eddie’s cheekbone. Eddie looks at him then, the same intense eye contact he always managed to accomplish, even before everything.
Notes:
Welcome back! Second time trying to post this chapter as Ao3 just got back from her dreaded crash.
Hope you enjoy!
__Chapter title from: "To an Athlete Dying Young" by A. E. Housman
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Steve gapes as he watches Eddie drop the blood empty dog onto the floor. It falls gracelessly, folding over itself as it lands. Steve feels bile churn inside his stomach, an angry sea throwing him about this way and that.
The other dog yelps noisily as it scrambles away, body close to the ground as it tries to run out the way Eddie came in. Steve’s breath catches as he sees the ripped open steel of the garage door, pulled back with dents the shape of fingers. The demodog is unsuccessful as Eddie extends out his wing, the strength and speed of it throwing the dog against the wall so hard that its head splits open. It twitches on the ground, stilling slowly as black blood pools around its body.
He scrambles backwards as Eddie stalks over to the car, back pressing against the door as Eddie’s long clawed fingers grab the glass on the slightly rolled down window and rips the entire door off. In Steve’s initial fear, heart leaping out of his throat, he unlocks the car door he is pressed against and stumbles out of the backseat. He ends up on his hands and knees, breathing short and quick as he tries to push himself up. He yelps as his injured ankle takes on too much weight, causing him to stumble in his rush towards the office door. He ends up on the ground again, face inches away from the dead dog.
His hands coated in its blood.
Steve hears a threatening growl behind him, turning around just in time to watch helplessly as Eddie reaches down and yanks him away from his fresh kill. Steve lets out a cry of surprise, the sheer strength of being moved around so incredibly quick causing Steve to realize he weighs absolutely nothing to Eddie at all.
He finds himself on top of the car, the chill from the night seeping into his back where his thin shirt was ripped from Eddie’s claws. He shakes, from either cold or fear he isn't quite sure. Eddie doesn’t pay him any mind, walking back to the demodog in a slight hunch, keeping Steve in his peripheral the entire time.
Steve watches, propping himself up on his elbow, as Eddie grabs the dead dog and rips it open with a low hiss, dropping it on top of the one he fed from.
He turns back to Steve, attention zeroed in and unwavering. He’s by the car in seconds, just watching, just staring. He watches, with that same tilt to his head from the woods as Steve slowly moves backwards on the Dodge’s roof. However, when Steve gets too far away than what must be his supposed liking he rounds the car, far faster than Steve can make sense of.
But then Steve’s hand misses the edge of the car’s roof, and he tips over with a yell.
He never hits the floor.
Against his back is something warm, solid. He looks up, already knowing, needing to be sure. Eddie examines his face with his still dilated eyes, pale skin covered in black blood. It drips from his chin and onto Steve’s arm. Eddie watches it fall, eyebrows furrowing.
Steve finds himself back in the air in seconds, Eddie’s grip turning from steadying to desperate holding as he presses Steve against the wall. He drops his head, licking the dog’s blood off of Steve’s arm in one long stripe. Steve startles, doing the only thing his body allows him too in reaction. He shoves Eddie away, which shouldn’t be possible due to the monster’s size and strength, and collapses against the wall with a grunt.
Eddie stands at full height, looking down at Steve, no anger in his stance, wings relaxed behind him. He is an arm's length away, not moving, still like a predator.
Steve breathes deeply, trying to calm the heavy pulsing in his chest. He pushes himself up, remembering to avoid putting too much weight on his leg. Eddie takes a step back as he does so, following Steve with his eyes as he limps over to the office door frame. He doesn’t actually move until Steve is about five feet away or so, slowly and carefully stepping behind him as if he is worried about scaring Steve.
He enters the room as Steve retrieves his bat, moving past the chair Steve had shoved out of his path. Steve grips the wood with his eyes closed, knuckles white. He turns around and suppresses a startle when he sees Eddie right behind him, close enough to have to look up.
It's weird, Steve thinks. He’s practically always been taller than Eddie, outside of that singular winter season when they were kids. Before it all. He shakes it off, grip tight around the handle, and points it at Eddie, squaring back his shoulders and willing his hand not to shake.
Eddie looks from the bat to his face, without any reaction other than his seemingly never-ending curiosity. Steve realizes that he’s already hit Eddie with it, very hard actually. From the looks of it Eddie doesn’t have any injuries, the only indicator that anything in the woods even happened at all is the dried blood under Eddie’s cheek and the forming scar on Steve’s palm. Eddie healed without a mark, and from what Steve can remember he never even looked hurt at all. Maybe the blood is from something else. Steve finds it hard to believe himself over that, with the way the dried blood is red.
In his hesitation Eddie steps closer, caging Steve against the desk, his wings spread out slightly, a stretch. Steve watches them with a kind of suppressed curiosity and apparition, lowering the bat slightly as Eddie drops them back into a rest. His free hand presses against the cold metal, the edge pressing against the scab in the middle. He jerks it away, not wanting to open it while he has death still on his hands, not wanting to accidentally get infected.
Rabies! The Robin in his mind warns, he can’t help but smile slightly at the ring of her voice in his ears, another timeline, another moment. He doesn’t notice Eddie perk up from his expression, a ghost of a smile finding his own face. But then Steve’s expression falls, a sadness washing over him at his and Robin’s separation.
Eddie makes a distressed noise, crowding into Steve’s space and spreading his wings out to try and hide the outside world. Steve sucks in a breath, unable to move further back as Eddie’s face gets right in front of his own. Brown staring into brown.
With Eddie’s pupils dilated he looks more human, mouth closed to hide his canines, long hair covering his pointed ears. Steve sags at the wave of grief that washes over him, hand slowly raising to carefully cradle Eddie’s face. Eddie goes into the hold willingly, turning his nose into Steve’s palm with a smile, eyes closed contently.
He makes a low sound in the back of his throat, non-threatening, kind. It makes Steve smile. “What happened to you?” He breathes out, thumb stroking over Eddie’s cheekbone. Eddie looks at him then, the same intense eye contact he always managed to accomplish, even before everything.
Steve allows Eddie to take hold of his hand, for the first time not feeling afraid as Eddie dusts away the crusted blood with his claws. He’s careful with it, being extra gentle as not to hurt Steve in movements. He watches, dumbfounded, as Eddie moves back once he is finished, giving Steve space.
Steve puts the bat on the table behind him. He holds out the palm of his other hand.
Eddie grins, his sharp teeth on show as he lurches forward, leaned down to be slightly below Steve’s height. Steve struggles not to jump, forcing himself to breathe evenly as Eddie grabs his hand and presses him firmly against the desk. Eddie holds Steve’s hand between them not even inches apart. Steve can feel Eddie’s breath on his jaw as Eddie leans in.
Steve shuts his eyes tight as he feels Eddie’s nose grace over the tendon on the side of his neck.
Steve raises his free hand, the one Eddie had cleaned slightly and presses it to the middle of Eddie’s back, right between the stretch of his wings, holding him. He lets out a shaky breath as he feels Eddie inhale against his skin. His other hand, gripped in Eddie’s hold between their chests, slowly wraps around the clawed fingers that are somehow not ripping into his ribcage, not killing him. Eddie makes a pleased noise, free hand moving around to lift Steve onto the desk so he can rise to be full height but still keep a close hold of him. He doesn’t remove his fingers, holding Steve safe, claws kept carefully away from Steve’s flesh.
Skin can be so easily cut, like paper.
Only paper doesn’t bleed.
Steve moves his hand up to the back of Eddie’s neck, holding him tightly like a lifeline as Eddie’s wings raise to surround them. “I missed you.” He whispers against Eddie’s frizzed and dirty curls, right below his pointed ear. Eddie shivers, his grin so wide that his teeth drag slightly over Steve’s neck while he moves back. His hand travels up Steve’s side, not ever letting him go as it comes to cradle his jaw, so light it nearly tickles. He makes a noise, pressing his forehead against Steve’s. It’s practically a chirp, like a bat’s.
Steve closes his eyes, fingers tangling into Eddie’s hair at the base of his neck. “I missed you so much, Eddie.”
Steve is thrown off as Eddie jerks away with a loud snarl, lip curling upward as he puts as much distance between he and Steve the small room allows. His pupils are back to slits.
Steve freezes where he sits, hands holding the edge of the table where he had caught himself from falling. He didn’t realize how much he was leaning against him. “Eddie?”
Eddie snarls again, jerking his head to the side and staring out into the red sky. There’s a low rumble in his throat as he stalks back to Steve. Steve scrambles backwards, moving off the back of the desk and pressing his back against the wall as Eddie looms above him. “Ed-”
He’s cut off with a loud hiss, threatening, daring. Like a challenge. Like a warning.
When Steve doesn’t respond, not so much as a motion , frozen where he stands, Eddie makes the same hiss, lighter this time, practically pleading.
It sounds like a word.
Steve lets out a shaky breath, swallowing his lack of spit through the sheer hope the action will bring his heart back where it belongs in his chest. “Kas?” He tries.
Kas grins, teeth like razors looking like death in the low light. His dark hair hangs over his face as he tries to go back to how he and Steve were previously. Steve stiffens as Kas tries to lean back down to his neck, hands reaching out to hold.
He doesn’t mean to jolt at the movement, jerk away from Kas’ touch. He regrets it as soon as it happens, watching as Ed- Kas’ pupiled eyes flood with sadness.
Kas steps back and Steve reaches for him again, trying to take ahold of his hand in a last second effort of desperation. He miscalculates the distance, grabbing Kas’ clawed fingers too fast, too hard. He yelps involuntarily, yanking his hand back to his chest to squeeze tightly, blood dripping from the cut and off the edges of his palm. He stares at it with wide eyes, guilt churning his stomach when he sees Kas doing the same. Kas is frowning, a deep frown that stretches down the skin of his mouth, foreign on his face. Eddie never frowned like that. Steve watches, wordlessly guilt stricken and still slightly afraid as Kas takes another step back, then another, and within a second he’s gone.
He doesn’t return for quite some time.
“Lighten up Harrington!” Travis harshly shoves Steve with an approving laugh. The young prepubescent boy still in his thin short gym clothes as he staggers through the chill bitten air. He can see his breath in front of him as he follows where the other boys are leading the way out of the woods, as if he needs the guidance, as if he didn’t just destroy the sanctuary of these trees. He shivers, keeping his eyes trained down on the frost over the grass, bare feet numb as they crunch bits of ice away as he walks. “I’d say you did just fine, I’ll put in a good word with Coach for you, don’t worry.”
There’s a fear in his chest. It squeezes his throat closed and sends a steady pulse through his skull. He can hear it over everything. A heartbeat to his all-consuming regret.
The blood drips into the snow.
Steve wakes with a gasp as something large and heavy crashes in front of him. He’s in the office chair so all he can really do in his initial panic is wheel about two feet back until it hits the wall behind him. He blinks the blurriness of sleep from his eyes, trying to make sense of what is happening.
Kas is back, Steve sees with a happy tug in his chest, and he brought Steve-
There’s a dead demogorgon on the table.
A strangled noise bullies its way out of Steve’s throat as he sees it, then smells it. He brings his hand up to his mouth, covering it and pinching his nose in one swift motion. He gags slightly, turning his eyes away from the disgusting sight ( Its guts are ripped open!) and back to Kas who is watching him expectantly, standing on the other side of the desk.
He breathes out slowly, forcing himself to get used to the stench as he carefully unfurls from his uncomfortable position. “Uh- Kas...” Steve starts. “What is-”
Kas reaches out, shoving the demogorgon slightly towards Steve. He jerks back, not wanting to get the black goop of the thing’s blood all over him. Kas makes another distressed noise, eyes pupils again full of worry.
Steve hears his stomach grumble with hunger and Kas seems to become more insistent at the noise, making a sound of his own deep in his throat, clawed finger ripping off a piece of the thing’s skin so easily that Steve wonders briefly how he isn't dead yet. Those claws held him.
Kas holds out the piece of meat skewered on his index claw to Steve, still, waiting, patient.
Steve lets out a shaky breath, carefully reaching up and pulling the flesh off. Kas steps back, crouching slightly so he is more eye level with Steve. He watches with rapid attention as Steve holds the meat in his non-injured hand, glancing up to Steve’s face every few seconds.
Steve looks down at the skin. It’s rough, like sandpaper, and thick, very thick. He thinks back over how hard of a swing it took to even scrape the skin of these things, pinching it between his fingers and swallowing dryly as there’s no give. It’s like a woodchip in Steve’s human hand. He glances over to Kas’ own. The claws shine slightly with the wet demogorgon blood still glistening on them.
He sucks in a breath as Kas rounds the desk, crouched now right next to Steve. He grabs the edge of Steve’s seat, spinning him to face him as his other hand reaches over to carefully grab the meat from Steve’s hand. Steve grips the scratchy fabric of the chair tightly as he follows Kas’ movements with his eyes. Kas holds up the bit of flesh, slowly moving it to hover above Steve’s closed lips.
Steve’s eyes widen, he leans away from it as far as he can go, twisting his head away just in case Kas tries to shove it in his mouth as he speaks. “I can’t eat that!” Kas lowers his hand with a sad look to his face. Steve sighs, leaning forward and rubbing at his eyes with his palm. When he drops his hand, he sees Kas watching him, still holding up the demogorgon skin like an offering.
Steve realizes this is exactly that.
Kas is offering this for forgiveness.
Steve smiles sadly, hand reaching out to pet Kas’ hair out of his face. Kas sighs happily, closing his eyes to the touch. “I can’t eat that, Kas. It’s not good for me.” Steve explains as Kas opens his eyes just to watch as he listens.
There’s a twist in Steve’s gut. Eddie is gone. This wordless creature of the place he calls hell is all that is left of him. Everything: the good, the bad, the history. None of it is left, just Kas. Kas and Steve and all the memories full of shame and regret haunting Steve’s mind.
Steve is alone in that now. Eddie can’t even hate him anymore for it all.
For some reason that feels worse than hating himself for it.
Kas takes another second to revel in Steve’s touch on the side of his head, fingers delicately holding his scalp. He pulls back, standing up to drop the flesh back onto the carcass then pushes the entire thing off the desk and onto the floor of the other side.
Steve gapes slightly, chewing on the inside of his cheek as he collects his thoughts. Kas is leaning back down, kneeling in front of Steve not even inches apart. He just stares, watches, admires.
Steve pulls another energy bar from his pocket, ignoring how it's bent and peeling back the plastic. “This is what I can eat, this and other stuff like it- but, I can't eat stuff that’s dead. ” He explains, and he finds that he isn’t exactly sure what to do with the responding information that Kas’ sniff of the air in front of the bar is actually kind of cute. It floors him slightly, finding this monster cute in any way shape or form. Kas nods slowly, raising his hands to gently guide Steve’s own to his mouth. Steve smiles around the bite he takes, chewing slowly around the taste of stale peanuts.
Kas beams, bouncing on his heels as Steve swallows. His fingers, claws kept carefully away from delicate skin, wrap around Steve’s wrist and palm, tapping excitedly. It’s a habit Eddie always had.
Steve isn’t given any time to reflect over his feelings on that due to Kas bringing the bar up in Steve’s grasp for another bite, not giving Steve really much of a choice in the matter. It causes Steve to cough, not prepared to eat the dry bar that turns to grain by his teeth. Kas’ eyes widen, dragging Steve up with his overwhelming worry. Steve tries to suppress his hacks as he’s tugged against Kas’ chest and held tightly. “Kas-”
Kas stills, lifting Steve up so they are face to face, hands wrapped around his torso securely. He bops their foreheads together with a worried trill in the back of his throat. Steve sighs, clearing his throat as he allows himself to be held for just a second. “I need to get water.” Kas looks into his eyes, a bugeye view from the angle. “It’s in the car… over there.” Steve points slightly to the Dodge after a few seconds of Kas not understanding. He looks over where Steve pointed and instead of putting him down (much to Steve’s noise of protest) he carries him like a sack of potatoes over to the car, sitting him down on the roof.
Steve blinks in shock, rolling his shoulders back to pop the tension out of them. Kas makes a face at the noise and Steve smiles reassuringly at him, watching dumbfoundedly as Kas visibly relaxes. Slowly, Steve slides down the front of the car, his feet landing on solid ground. He takes a steadying breath, using the car's edge as a crutch as he limps over to the gap in the car. Where Kas had ripped off an entire door.
He crouches against the ripped-up car seat (what the fuck!?), grabbing a mostly full bottle out of the cupholder and opening it. Out of the corner of his eye he sees Kas watching as he drinks, eyes trained on his neck. He screws the cap back on, deciding it’s probably best to keep it at the desk. He takes a step, wincing as it sends a pang of pain up his leg. Kas is on him in seconds, swooping him up in his arms and making it to where his feet are dangling several feet from the ground. “Um-” Steve starts, watching helplessly as Kas maneuvers them back into the office without so much as being asked, setting Steve down on top of the desk. “...thanks.”
Kas smiles, picking up the energy bar where it had fallen and hands it back to Steve, waiting, watching as Steve eats the entire thing and polishes it off with another drink of water. Once Steve is done Kas seems to finally be satisfied, turning his head to look out the window, like he’s smelling.
“Are you hungry?” Steve finds himself asking. Kas looks at him with the slightest nod to his head. Steve looks over at the demogorgon on the floor. “What about that?”
Kas turns up his nose in disgust, causing Steve to let out a loud laugh. “What? So it's fine for me but not good enough for you? Is that how this works now?”
Kas seems happy at Steve’s laugh, not caring the slightest over the verbal jab sent his direction. He kicks the demogorgon away with his foot just to spark another laugh from Steve, who tilts his head back with the surprise of it. Kas rushes over to crowd around Steve at that, wings raised and ready. Steve jumps slightly in shock, Kas either not noticing or not caring given that his nose is pressed against Steve’s neck without restraint, Steve’s hands steady themselves on Kas’ forearms after a second. He shivers as Kas inhales deeply, sensitive skin tickling with the heat of Kas’ mouth.
But then Kas is jerking back with a low growl directed at himself? And takes several steps back, he looks up at Steve as if he’s waiting for something.
Approval Steve realizes after a few seconds. Kas is looking for approval to leave. To hunt.
“Go ahead.” Steve smiles with what he hopes is reassurance. “I’ll still be here when you get back.”
It seems as though that is all Kas needed because within seconds he is gone, the wind his wings left moving Steve’s now shoulder-length hair away from his face.
Steve looks to the right of him, the note from yesterday still there. With a sigh he picks up the pen and crosses off the 2.
Just two more days until he can start his search for Robin and Dustin.
Only two days to figure out what to do about Kas.
It’s dark out again, the chill has returned with an angry wind to accompany it. Steve worries, about Robin, about Dustin, about if they have found a place for shelter.
If they are even alive.
He worries for himself. He’s hungry, he’s still so fucking hungry. He’s hurt, cold, alone.
He’s worried about Kas, knows he shouldn’t be. Kas has been gone a long, long time. He’s worried he’ll never come back. The way Eddie won’t. Steve rubs his face as he looks over at his last energy bar and the just emptied bottle of water, pinching the skin between his brows to relieve himself a little of his oncoming migraine. He doesn’t want to think about Eddie right now, it hurts far too much.
His finger tap the pen on the table, clicking it on and off and on again. He finds himself watching the window, waiting. He chastises himself for it in his mind, the way he’s acting like a fucking dog.
Kas is fine. He can kill the worst of the monsters and rip apart their skin like a knife through butter, he can take care of himself just fine. Steve drops the pen, leaning back to yank at his hair with a frustrated yell. He feels restless, trapped. The feeling of move or die pounding through his veins like venom. He’s so used to trusting his instincts these days that he forgot they were controlled by anxiety, by pure unadulterated fear. It thrums through him, wrapping around his windpipe. He remembers hands, vines, bat tails. Bats ripping at his side. Bats swarming, Eddie laying there. Eddie killed. Eddie dead-
Eddie dead, Eddie’s dead, Eddie’s dead!
Steve jerks up, grabbing his bat for security, using it as a crutch. He moves as fast as he can to the closed office door (the steel of the garage door ripped, open, open, open. Eddie’s stomach ripped open, open, open!) and practically yanks it off its hinges as he makes his way through.
He paces in front of the car, keeping one eye on the garage door and the other on the pile of dead fucking dog in the corner of the room. It doesn’t take long for his ankle to start cramping, Steve hissing out a curse as he makes his way back to the car, leaning on the side of it where it is missing a door. He makes a face at it, moving back to do an experiment of his own with the backseat door. He yanks at it, shaking his head at his own stupidity when all it does is swing open. At least it was easy to open he supposes. He shuts it again with a grunt, staring at the scraped-up paint from the demodog’s claws.
Steve shivers, limping over to the back of the trunk to prop it open so he can still sit and watch. He sighs, balancing the bat on his knee as he bobs it anxiously. The nails catch on the fabric of the trunk, tearing it slightly and sending bits of dust flying into the air. His nose scrunches against the need to sneeze and he rubs it against his shoulder to help fight it. He sees the zipped-up bag out of the corner of his eye and freezes.
The room already reeks of death, so he doesn’t see the problem in opening it now.
He reaches back, placing the bat next to him in his movement, and drags the duffle bag to sit next to him. He takes a steadying breath, prepared to get a face full of stench and unzips the bag in one fail swoop. His breath catches with a surprised laugh.
Steve pulls the bag into his lap, digging his hands into its contents with a wide smile.
It’s two guns. Two guns with two bullet boxes to accompany it. He grins into his palm as he moves to push his hair out of his face. All he has to do is get this back to Dustin and Robin and all of them will have a weapon, with one to spare.
He laughs again, opening the cartridge to check the number of bullets still in the guns. Both seem around half empty but that's fine, the boxes are nearly full. He checks the safety, making sure it's clicked on before he puts one of the two in the waistband of his pants. It’s a lot more uncomfortable than he thought, he makes a face as it digs into the skin of his lower back, pulling it back out and moving it around in his hand. The weight isn’t bad, a bit lighter than the longer guns he is used to with Nancy, but it will take some relearning to use properly. He has enough bullets to waste a few in practice.
He places down the gun on his thigh, looking around the bag for any more hidden compartments, he only finds one. There’s a small pouch on the inside of the duffle bag, it's a darker color than the rest of the fabric and is lumpy in the way it holds, like it was sewn in after purchase. He manages to get his pinky finger under one of the loose edges, ripping away the single thread woven through. What falls out isn’t any secret weapon. No pocketknife or match, no dagger or taser. What falls out is a photo.
It lands face down next to him, the slight wind that's making its way through the hole in the garage door moving it like a fallen autumn leaf. Steve grabs it before it can blow away, wincing apologetically as he sees that his thumb creased the bottom of it.
When he flips it over, he wishes that he’d never found it at all. Wishes that he left the sewn up square alone. Wishes he never found the guns at all. Maybe not even the car, not even the garage.
Steve remembers thinking to himself that he hoped the kids who scribbled their joy on the ceiling if the car were dead, wishing it, thinking it were better.
He knows these kids. He watched them grow up.
Steve feels bile rise up his throat along with guilt like razors, ripping apart his lungs and heart as they go.
He knows these kids.
He helped teach them to swim when he was a lifeguard. Their mom came to the basketball fundraisers just to talk to Steve. She always brought her kids with her.
Samantha and Benjamin. Sam and Benny.
They were nine and ten last he saw them, Benny rambling out about his dreams of being a bug researcher. He reminded him so much of Dustin. Sam, being only nine, said she wanted to be the president. She had said it with so much conviction Steve had believed every word.
They never even made it to middle school, they just started life.
They’ll never get to do any of that now.
Steve had wished they were dead. He had wished they were dead.
If their father left the car, left the guns…
Sam and Benny are dead.
Steve chokes on a sob, looking away from the photo as he hides his eyes in his wrists, rubbing angrily. Their father (a kind man who snuck Steve a cigarette sometimes) had a cane, and their mother (“Oh Steve honey, have you eaten enough? You look so skinny! Next time I see you remind me to bring you some pie, okay?”) was sick. She was dying, Steve remembers.
They’re all dead.
The tears flow hot and heavy down his face, snot dripping between his lips as they curl up in his cries. He hunches over himself, arms wrapped around his middle as if that can spare him of his unraveling. He is spilling out like water from open hands, falling down and down and down. Alice in her rabbit hole. Steve in his guilt.
Grief is a funny thing.
It eats you alive if you let it. It kills you right along with it.
It is then, as he sobs violent self-hating tears, that he thinks about Eddie, and he thinks about Kas, and a realization seeps up his spine like mold. He chokes on it, desperately, the horrible truth that it is.
Even alive Eddie is gone.
He’s gone.
Notes:
Wow, it's such a shame that Steve has to deal with all these rollercoaster emotions. If only there were someone who could stop it. Poor guy.
Let me know what you thought in the comments!
The scheduled upload for next week will be delayed a day as I have a charity event to go to on that Saturday, so I'll see you all next Sunday instead!
Chapter 3: Beneath the Apple Blossoms I go a Wintery Way
Summary:
The kid grins again, it's toothy and wide. Steve sees that he is missing one of his sharp teeth, canines he thinks they are called. “I’m Eddie.”
Notes:
Now that all the setup is out of the way I am beyond happy to throw you all straight into the deep end that is the plot!
__Chapter title from: "May" by Sara Teasdale
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Hawkins Indiana, January 13th, 1977
Steve is cold.
He is lost, he is scared, and he is cold.
He didn’t mean to run so far, it's just that his parents just got home, and they had already started fighting. Steve had made his father a pot in art class, spent the whole week on it for when his parents got home. He was so proud of it, painted little gold leprechaun coins all over the blue base. His teacher had scoffed but he didn’t make it for her. He made it for his father. His father who had thrown it on the ground in his boiling rage, loud- so loud it felt like Steve’s eardrums would shatter along with it. Bits of clay flying around as he points his accusing finger at Steve’s mother, his drunken mother who denies any mention of even knowing whoever Larry is.
Steve knows Larry. He cleans their pool whenever the Harrington adults are home long enough to be in the mood for a swim. He likes Larry, brings him lemonade while he works so they can talk about baseball under the summer sun. He’s always kind to Steve, goes out of his way to get cheap baseball player cards so he and Steve can trade every now and then.
He doesn’t understand why they are fighting over him. He knows it’s because his mother did something with him she shouldn't have, but his father does that with other girls all the time.
He doesn't understand!
The frustrated yell Steve lets out is childish to his own ears, echoing off the tall trees around him as he stands there feeling small.
Harringtons are not supposed to feel small.
There is snow under his feet, slippers one size too big allowing the wet cold to seep through. They were a gift from one of his mom’s friends, she had placed a fat hot kiss on his cheek when he had thanked her, his mother wouldn't let him wipe it off. The bright red kiss mark on his skin was adorable to the older women for some reason. He hated how their words made his skin tingle unpleasantly. “Little ladies' man.” The only girl he hangs out with is Carol, and she’s still gross because their parents make them hang out at late night parties. She had hit him for calling her such when they last hung out, so he’s learned to keep his mouth shut about gross girls now.
He tries his best to shake the snow out of his slippers as he leans against a tree’s trunk, mitten-less hand picking at the bark under his fingers. It’s a bad habit his mom told him he needs to grow out of. She said it makes him look nervous.
That’s another thing Steve doesn’t understand.
The tapping and the picking and the tiny movements he does to get out his excess energy help him. It helps him focus, helps him do things. Larry doesn’t make him feel bad about it, only laughs whenever Steve trips slightly as he paces while talking, hands waving all around. Maybe he can run away to Larry, at least he doesn’t yell and break Steve’s gifts. He always takes care of the cards Steve gives him.
But Larry has his own kids, and those kids have a mom, and Steve is too loud, too much, too everything to fit in there.
Steve wasn’t made to fit in, always out. His mother wanted a star, his father wanted a businessman trainee. Steve was made up to be the center of attention.
He just wants to fit in, have friends who don’t gawk and talk.
Carol is a gossip, told everyone in school he liked to read nerd books. (Just three kids who didn’t care at all.) He hasn’t gone back to the library since, just another reason she’s gross.
Larry wouldn’t want him there, probably never wants to see him again after whatever is happening back at the Harrington residence. Stupid parents.
Maybe he can just stay out here. The woods are nice. He learned about something called adaptation in science class the other day, maybe he can just do that to help with the cold. The more Steve thinks about it the better of a plan it sounds.
A smile finds his face. He squares his shoulders.
He didn’t pay much attention, but he got the basics that the more an animal spends a place somewhere new the easier they can survive there. Mrs. English had said that with animals it can lead to them changing colors to match their surroundings or their stomachs changing based on the amount of food available.
Steve hopes he gets wings.
Their teacher had tried to tell the class that humans are not animals, but Cammie had said they were and she’s the smartest kid in class, so Steve thinks it's best to believe her.
Besides, wings would be really fun to have. He imagines it, flying over the trees and away from the town, his parents, his dumb gross friends. The thought makes him giddy.
Now all he has to do is remember the process of adapting…
“BOO!” Steve yells in surprise, tripping backwards over a root and falling into the snow. “Oh crap! Are you okay?”
Steve glares up at the boy standing over him, ignoring his outstretched hand and grabbing a handful of snow to toss at him in retaliation. “No! That wasn’t cool, dude!” His voice sounds whiny to his own ears, but he refuses to back down.
The other boy, looking to be around eleven, just laughs. He dusts the snow off his shoulders and crouches down next to Steve. “Why don’t you have a jacket?”
Steve glowers. “Why don’t you mind your own business?”
The kid grins again, it's toothy and wide. Steve sees that he is missing one of his sharp teeth, canines he thinks they are called. “I’m Eddie.”
Steve huffs, not taking the bait as he staggers into a standing position, frowning as he feels his entire back damp with freezing snow. “Why don’t you mind your own business, Eddie?”
“You know kid, I like you.” Steve looks up at him as Eddie stands up, frown deepening as he sees Eddie is taller than him. Eddie jerks his hand out like he’s wanting a handshake, Steve looks at it with what he hopes is disdain and not curiosity. “You wanna’ be friends?”
There’s a spark of hope in Steve’s chest, but he pushes that down out of sheer need to be a brat. “No.”
Eddie groans loudly, shoulder length curly hair that is dusted with the snow Steve had thrown, brushes over his shoulders as he leans back in the dramatics of it. “Okay, how about this.” Steve waits, trying to ignore the way the light catches the snow in Eddie’s hair and makes it glisten. It makes him look almost magical. “I’m sorry for making you fall right on your butt.”
Steve makes a face at the apology, but there’s a playful tug in his chest that he decides to follow anyway. He holds out his hand. “I’m Steve.”
Eddie beams as he clasps it, yanking Steve into a short hug instead of the handshake Steve had anticipated. For some reason he doesn’t hate it and finds that he actually starts missing it when Eddie pulls back to grin at him, tongue poking out where he’s missing a tooth. “Nice to meet you, Stevie.”
“That’s not my name.”
Eddie ignores him. “Why are you out here anyways?” He stuffs his hands in his jacket pockets, looking up at the sky through the break in the trees.
Steve shrugs, kicking at the snow with his foot. “I live out here now.”
“Huh, that’s cool. I’m staying with my uncle for a little bit. He lives back that way.” He points with his thumb over his shoulder, Steve doesn’t know where that direction leads to, but he doesn’t want to look like an idiot in front of his new friend.
“That’s cool too. Is he nice?” Steve doesn’t know why he asked, maybe it’s the way he can still hear his father's ringing voice echoing inside his skull.
Eddie nods. "He’s making me grilled cheese for dinner tonight.” He grins, licking his lips like he can taste it now.
Steve nods. “I don’t think I’ve ever had one I didn’t burn.”
“You know how to make grilled cheese?!” Eddie beams, bouncing on his heels.
Steve remembers lonely nights, a big empty house that creaked with the weight of the world. He remembers hunger, loneliness. He remembers crying for his mom and no one coming to answer, his mom on the other side of the world. She wouldn’t have come even if she was here. He remembers having to use a stool to reach the stove. He remembers burning the bread and the cheese and his hand when he tried to save it. The burn scar is still there. He hides it behind his back. “Yeah.”
“Maybe I can come live with you out here instead of whenever I have to leave to go back to my dad’s.” Eddie sighs wishfully.
Steve grins, baby fat rounding his cheeks. “That could be sick! We can go hunting and pick wild mushrooms!” Steve recounts, remembering the storylines of the books he abandoned.
Eddie nods, thinking. “How do we hunt?”
“We could make spears?”
“Stevie, I think you just might be the smartest person ever.”
And well, Steve’s never been called smart before. There’s a flutter in his chest, a warmth that fights away the cold, melts away the snow frozen on the ledges of his ribs. He smiles, the light of the warmth inside him glistening in his eyes.
They end up making a sad excuse for a spear, a dry stick they tried sharpening against the side of a tree that broke in their efforts. It’s much smaller now but the end is pointy enough that Eddie had yelped when he pressed his palm against it to test.
It took a long time to find any animals, the sky nearing dark by the time they found a lone squirrel digging into the ground. Steve lets Eddie have the first shot and can’t help the laugh that bubbles up inside of him when he misses by a good seven feet. Eddie blushes, tugging lightly at the corner of his curls and bringing it slightly over his mouth. “You do it then.”
Steve rolls his eyes and goes to grab the stick where it’s growing damp with the snow. “I bet I can get it on the first try.”
“If you do, then you can be the hunter, and I can be our gatherer. We’ll need plants and stuff to make it not taste all gross and crap.”
Steve nods, the whole thing making perfect sense to him. He taps the stick against his wrist. “You’ve got yourself a deal, Eddie.”
Finding another squirrel isn’t that hard now that they know what to look for, it’s in the middle of a clearing in the trees, sniffing the air with its twitchy nose. Steve purses his lips, pulling back his arm with the hand holding the stick in an uncomfortable angle. The position feels wrong but Eddie nods encouragingly regardless.
He lets out a steadying breath and watches it fly.
Steve hisses out a curse as the bullet hits right next to where he was aiming, the gunshot loud in his enclosed space, echoing off the garage walls and shaking the steel all around him. He reloads, stance strong and correct, shoulders held high. The second time he hits the mark nearly perfectly, but it’s not good enough for him.
He is twenty years old.
It is October something’th, 1987. Hawkins Indiana, Hell.
Eddie is still dead.
Kas is still gone.
He breathes out slowly, raising the gun to point straight at the center of the dead demogorgons face. He shoots, hitting it exactly between the petals of its mouth.
Once he is sure the safety is switched on Steve puts it into the holster strapped tightly to his side. He had found it in the glove department buried beneath hundreds of hopefully unused napkins, tapes, and random registration papers. Steve, though now having more bullets than he’s seen in a long while, doesn’t see the point in wasting any more than necessary. He stretches, rolling out his shoulder to feel the pop in favor of the ache in stomach.
It’s been three days; he is completely out of food. His ankle has made a pretty good recovery, now strong enough to take his weight without flaring up in angry agony. He had used his re-found strength to drag the demogorgon from the office and prop it up against the wall by the dogs, anxiety pounding in his chest the whole time as if the thing would come back to life and eat him whole.
Because that’s a thing the Upside Down can do now apparently.
It’s a struggle not to grow bored, not to fill up his time by wasting up his recent findings. There really isn't anything for him to do in the small space, everything is full of tools and parts. Steve likes cars as much as the next guy, but he isn’t great at fixing them up. He never needed to learn.
As the hours tick by Steve ends up finding himself sitting on the floor surrounded in parts and tools, putting them together randomly, creating useless objects of metal and steel. It’s still a tedious task, Steve having to stop to listen whenever he accidentally makes too much noise. He tries to ignore his anxiety telling him there is something breathing down his neck, standing behind him with claws ready to wrap around his neck and rip it in half.
He imagines it, his own body lying there with his guts pulled out, covered in his own blood, eyes empty and cold. He imagines the bugs finding him, imagines the dogs feasting on his rotting flesh. He pictures being found, maybe within a week, a month, maybe a year. He imagines that his friend’s won’t recognize his bones. He imagines fading into a memory, a ghost tale.
He abandons his useless project after that.
The moon is up now, red in its color, an eternal blood moon. He remembers Robin discussing the type, a rare phenomenon, with wonder during some of their slow shifts, back when all of their problems were just a handful of rude customers every few hours. She had been so animated about it, so happy. He hopes she likes the moon here. Steve doesn’t think he’s ever asked.
He regrets that now. He’ll ask next time he sees her, he decides as he fights off his hunger with a drink from his water. How many days was it that a person can survive without food? Three? No, that's water. He thinks it’s about a week, at the very least five days.
He goes into the office, sitting in the chair just to spin around aimlessly. Time passes, he doesn’t know if it's slow or fast, it just passes. Minutes fade into hours and Steve fades into himself. He doesn’t know how long he sits there, doesn’t really care.
It’s still dark at least.
Steve doesn’t realize he had fallen asleep until he’s woken by the sounds of loud crashing, clattering, and a confused trill coming from the garage. He jerks up, nearly falling out of the seat from where he had his feet propped up on the desktop and practically sprints into the other room.
He catches himself on the doorframe, eyes wide and unbelieving as he takes in a concerned looking Kas. Kas relaxes when he sees Steve, his sharp teeth showing in a toothy lopsided grin. “Where have you been?” Steve asks, voice airy. He feels like he can finally breathe now that Kas is back, can finally think past his own overwhelming worries.
Kas looks embarrassed, which is honestly an incredibly strange sight to see in the first place. He is looking down at the floor, something Eddie always did when he was ashamed. It softens Steve’s frustration, and he smiles, walking over to Kas to… hug him? He stops himself before he can even think to lean in for it, face flushing slightly from his embarrassment over the urge.
Kas doesn’t meet his eyes, but Steve does see his little smile over the fact that Steve is better now, in the pain department at least. Steve sighs, shaking it off with a mental fuck it and walking the rest of the way over to Kas to lift up his face with his hands. Kas nuzzles into it with a happy noise, it does something to Steve’s gut. A mix of admiration and sadness that throws him for a loop. “Are you okay?” He whispers.
Kas looks at him, staring into Steve’s eyes as if he hung the very stars themself. He raises his right wing, not ever averting his gaze from Steve’s face as Steve turns to look at it. His face tries to follow Steve’s hands slightly when they are removed from his skin, blinking away the daze he fell under in order to keep his attention exactly where he wants it. Steve raises a hand, fingers dusting over the skin on his wing, mapping out the bones that ripple underneath.
“I don’t see anything.” Steve smiles, relief flooding his chest as he presses the flat of his palm against it. Kas shivers lightly. “It must have healed on your way back here.”
Kas makes a sound, an amused little trill that sounds nearly like laughter. Steve quirks an eyebrow at it, giving him an unamused look. “Are you laughing at me?” Kas ducks his head with a grin, pressing his nose to the underside of Steve’s jaw as he tries to quiet the noise. Steve rolls his eyes, not pushing Kas away. “So what? You’re gone for practically two days and the second you’re back you decide to laugh at me? Thin ice, Kas.”
Kas inhales slightly before moving back with a smile, he looks back over at his wing which is still spread out, Steve follows his line of sight, furrowing his brows in confusion. “Kas, what-”
In a very Eddie-like dramatic fashion Kas drops his wing with a flourish, showing off his collected horde of food cans and a wide array of bottles.
Steve sucks in a breath, releases it with a laugh. “Is this why you were gone so long?” Kas grins and Steve notices that his teeth lack the color of fresh black blood, the only blood on his face is days old. “Did you even eat?”
Kas ignores the question, hands reaching out to grip onto Steve’s shoulders and direct him towards the pile- talons practically against skin through the thin fabric- he goes willingly, body feeling light under the pressure against his skin. He kneels down, lifting up a few of the cans to look at, excitement and relief flooding him. Having one less thing to worry about is a rarity these days, practically a myth.
He looks over his shoulder at Kas, smiling wide at him. “Thank you.” Kas grins back, walking over to crouch down as well. He mimics Steve, picking up a can, easy bake beans Steve reads off of it with a giddy grin. He taps their cans together, making a small clink noise with his mouth. “Cheers.”
Kas puts down the can, scooting closer to rest his chin atop of Steve’s shoulder as he begins sorting through the different cans. He makes four piles, open and rotted, unopened and good to go, expired yet still edible, and so expired he’s scared to even open it (last resort).
The bottles are mostly beer but there’s enough water to supply for a long while. Those go into another pile. Kas is forced to move back as Steve moves around, taking his favor in just sitting and watching.
Steve sits back with a sigh, nodding with a pleased smile at the piles he sorted. He stands up, patting Kas’ shoulder as he walks by, so he doesn’t get that sad look to his eyes. Kas watches him, a confused noise following Steve into the office as he goes to get the pen and pad of paper.
Steve rolls his eyes but it’s fond. Despite being scary as shit he finds that he actually really likes Kas, even with the all-consuming guilt at seeing Eddie’s face, though now that is slowly turning into background static as time ticks by. Steve figures that the guilt of seeing him is better than not having anything left of him at all. God knows that that nearly killed him all in itself.
When he sits back down Kas is back too leaning over him, wing spread out to block the bite of the wind coming in through the garage door. Steve feels warm in his chest, flipping the page to a mostly clean one and letting Kas watch with rapid attention as he jots down his new resources in his famous chicken scratch handwriting.
Kas makes a noise; it sounds soft which takes Steve’s attention. His eyes are closed, and his nose is hovering above Steve’s neck, mouth a breath away. He seems to be holding his breath otherwise Steve would have felt the heat on his neck. By now Steve’s used to it so he doesn't startle, just observing like Kas usually does to him. “Kas?"
He makes eye contact with Steve, pupils taking up most of the entirety of his iris, the brown looking like a shadow in its hue. The hair on the back of Steve’s neck stands up as Kas finally lets out his breath, long and low. It’s cold. Steve blinks, trying very hard to ignore the alarm bells ringing loud in his head. Last time he reacted like the way he wants to now, Kas had left for days.
Now Kas is here, his claws shining red in the low light, face half hidden by shadow. Steve doesn’t even see when he moves, reaching out to wrap his arms around Steve’s shoulders and yank him against his chest. It knocks Steve’s air out of his lungs, the speed of it causing his head to knock against Kas’ shoulder right against the bone. Steve lets out a nervous laugh, eyes wide as he blinks away the stars in his vision. He isn’t given a chance to even think about pulling away, all that is left of his light disappearing as Kas’ wings wrap around them in a cocoon.
Steve feels the slow drag of teeth against his neck.
His breath catches.
His hands find Kas’ in the darkness where they are gripping Steve flat against him, fingers gently trying to pry away the claws that are pressing against his skin just light enough to remind.
Kas is not his friend. Kas is not Eddie.
Kas is a predator.
Steve remembers that Kas has yet to hunt. He left hungry, he came back hungry.
He is hungry.
Steve wants to hit himself for being this fucking stupid, the Upside Down has a pattern of using stuff you trust to betray. Faces meant to deceive. Lies designed to kill.
Kas’ mouth presses against the tendon of Steve’s neck, tasting the quick and heavy beating beneath the skin, tongue hot and wet as it comes out to lap in one slow drag down to Steve’s Adam’s apple. No human tongue is that long.
Steve chokes on a fearful cry as he pinches his eyes shut tight, face scrunched up as he tries to focus everything on calming his breathing. Monsters can sense distress.
The claws dig deeper, piercing the skin.
Kas freezes, stops moving entirely. A drop of blood blooms into the fabric of the green shirt already torn and ragged over Steve’s skin, right in the center of his chest. Steve tries harder now, trying to yank away the claws, tears pricking into his eyes at the pain. “Kas-”
Kas growls low in his throat, hands grabbing Steve’s where they are trying to pry himself free into a tight grip, spinning him around and pinning him to the ground. Steve hits it with a grunt, tears finally finding their way out from the corners of his eyes. Kas has both his wrists in one strong grip, claws tight around the skin where Steve can’t even try to rip away without slitting his own wrists.
He is hovering above Steve, open mouth breathing cold air against the red on the center Steve’s chest, the blood staining the air between them. Kas breathes it in with a desperate noise, practically a moan as he presses his open lips against the fabric and sucks.
Steve’s back arches with a gasp, a daze hazing his mind. Blood rushes south.
Kas makes the same noise again, hand releasing Steve’s so he can place it next to Steve’s head, nose nuzzling into Steve’s sternum as he pants against the fabric. His wings retract, held high in the air and stretching with a shake.
Steve blinks against the return of light, body feeling heavy and slow like thick honey. His fingers clench around empty air and he dazedly turns his head to look at one of them, curiosity leading him to wrap a single finger around the claw right next to his temple, so close his eyes have to cross to look at it. A low whine bullies its way out of his throat as Kas drinks from him again, dragging small amounts of blood out of the nail sized cuts on his chest. A moan finds its way into Steve’s ears, and it causes him to turn his head back to look at Kas. It’s then he realizes it's coming from him. Steve is moaning.
He blinks slowly, hips stuttering up with every suck, seeking friction past the zipper of his pants. It’s pressing painfully against him, hard on strained tight and uncomfortable. But at least it’s better than nothing.
Steve moans again as Kas’ other hand grips his waist, claws making his fingers so long it feels as though Steve’s waist is small in comparison. He grips Kas’ claw with desperation, trying to hold on as the wave of emotions rock him like a boat in a storm. He feels happy.
His finger slices open as he accidentally drags it too fast, too hard. He cries out, jerking his hand away as his consciousness returns to him. His breathing turns quick as he processes the scene, yanking backwards away from Kas so quickly that he clocks him in the nose with his knee in the process. Kas yelps, jerking back as well.
Steve shakes from where Kas is watching him, one hand propping himself up and the other cradled to his bleeding chest. He stares at Kas with wide eyes, fear tightening his joints and creaking his bones.
Kas stares back at him, Steve’s blood soaking into the skin of his face, dripping off of his chin and landing on the ground with a splatter. It’s so quiet they can hear it. His eyes dart around Steve’s cowering figure, mouth opening and closing as if he’s thinking. He pulls backwards further making it so Steve can actually see his eyes in the light. Brown, beautiful brown.
Not slits, not pupils like inkwells. But brown, human.
“Steve?”
Notes:
HE'S BACK!!!! I'm sure everything is okay now! Right? ... right..?
Homemade meme: https://imgflip.com/i/9kdies
Chapter 4: In the Rearview Mirror I Saw the Setting Sun on your Neck
Summary:
“You have a car.”
“We both know I don’t know how to fix cars.” Steve huffs, giving Eddie a look through his low set eyelids. It does something to Eddie’s stomach, a warmth like a trickle.
“We both know I do.”
Notes:
Hi everyone! Sorry for the late posting, I kinda forgot that it was my birthday. Big ol 19!
__Chapter title from: "Once More to See You" by Mitski
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Eddie can taste Steve on his tongue.
It’s the only thing he can think as he watches Steve pace back and forth in front of him. Fingers running through his hair, yanking at the strands so violently Eddie wants to stop him. But he can’t, he won’t risk it.
Steve’s blood is on his hands, he stares down at it, shaking slightly. He hates this. He hates how he wants to taste again. He licks his lips slightly, shivering as Steve Steve Steve floods his tastebuds. He hates himself for it.
Steve makes a loud noise, a frustrated half yell, he kicks the pile of trash at his feet, empty cans clattering around. Eddie looks as he hears Steve hiss in pain, lifting up his ankle to roll it around with a wince on his face. “Steve-”
“Don’t.” He raises his hand, sighing as Eddie quiets instantly. He runs a hand down his face, sullen pale skin, tired eyes. Eddie has missed so much. What happened? “Just- just give me a minute, I need to think.”
Eddie nods, fingers stretching out over his knees anxiously. Eddie doesn’t want to think, he doesn’t want to remember.
He remembers dying.
Eddie falls to the ground, hands skinning against the pavement. The demobats swarm him, small screams of creatures feeding flood his ears along with his own deafening pulse as they dip down to rip at his skin. Some are far more greedy. He can hear his own screams as they dig into him, feel his flesh being ripped away in movements so quick it feels slow. Like a hangnail, like a bullet wound. He sobs while he still can, teeth ripping into the side of his throat. He tries to fight, he does, but he isn't a fighter. They leave after a while, bored, full.
Eddie’s death is slow.
There's bats, then pain, then Dustin.
Then nothing.
Eddie remembers dreaming.
He doesn’t want to. He watches Steve instead.
Steve stops pacing, hands falling to his sides with a determined shake. He turns to face Eddie, his own blood covering his chest, most likely sealing the fabric to his skin where it dries. Eddie tries not to flinch away when he sees it, claws digging into his own skin. He hears Steve let out a slow breath, shaking under his unwavering stare. “Ka-” Steve’s breath catches audibly. “Eddie, stop it.”
He pinches his eyes shut, forcing himself to let go and relax his hands in the middle of his crossed legs. He feels unbelievably small, despite now being nearly two whole feet taller than when- than before. “Steve.” He hisses out, tongue feeling too large behind his sharp teeth. “What happened?”
Steve’s jaw clenches for a second, he lets out a low breath, looking down at Eddie from where he is standing. His voice sounds detached when he finally speaks. “You died.”
Eddie pinches his eyes shut as he sucks in a breath. It feels like he’s taken a hit from Steve’s bat to the gut. “No- not that.” He grits out. “I hurt you.”
He hears Steve start pacing again. “Yeah, yeah you did.”
Eddie opens his eyes with a start, he bites out the next words like venom. “Why are you so calm about this?”
Steve turns to round him with a look. “I’m not.”
“I hurt you, Steve!” He practically yells, a wetness in his eyes.
“That doesn’t matter.” Steve hisses. “There are more important things to deal with than me being hurt.”
That settles in Eddie’s stomach like acid. “Like what?”
“Dustin, for one thing.” Steve bites out, walking over to Eddie to get in his face. He doesn’t even have to lean down far, eyes sunken and wild as he speaks through gritted teeth. “And Robin, finding them. This-” he gestures over his own chest covered in blood blood blood. “-is nothing.”
Eddie sucks in a breath, leaning back with closed eyes as he tries to get himself under control. Steve is across the room when he gets his head back together enough to open his eyes. He’s digging through the back of the Dodge, searching for something. “Steve?” He responds with a questioning hum. “What happened after I-”
Steve stops moving, shoulders sagging after a second. “You don’t have to say it.” It’s whispered but Eddie can hear it regardless, feeling it take the panic right out of his grasped hands. “Are you sure you want to know? It’s okay if you don’t.”
Eddie shakes his head, feeling Steve’s eyes on him. “I want to.”
Steve lets out a long breath, walking back over to Eddie with a duffle bag swinging in his right hand. He sits down in front of him, bag thrown between them. Eddie is glad for the buffer, still pulling back a few inches for his own calm of mind. Steve chews on his bottom lip, brows furrowed as he looks at the floor between them. “We failed.”
Eddie sucks in a breath but Steve continues, like water being released from behind an old dam. His voice is back to that detached sound, only shaking when- “Max still died.”
“Red’s dead?” Eddie hears himself breathe out without a chance to stop himself from doing so, it sounds small to his own ears.
Steve shakes his head again, sitting up with a forced squaring of his shoulder. He lets out a shaky breath. “Not exactly. She’s alive, just not there. El hadn’t felt her when she checked with her powers.”
“That’s supergirl right? The one Dustin talked about?” Steve nods.
“She’s at the hospital right now, they have her in a bed on the third floor, fifth room on the right.” Steve nods to himself again in confirmation. “Last I knew, El and the others from out west were watching over her.”
The garage is quiet for a few moments as it all settles into Eddie’s mind like sun on skin, burning into his thoughts with a fire. He needs Steve to put it out. “Steve… how long has it been since you’ve seen them?”
“Max?” Eddie nods slowly and Steve looks away, a sadness darkening his expression. “Almost five months.”
Eddie sucks in a breath, closing his eyes. “How long have- have I been-” He swallows, feeling as if he’s choking. “...dead?”
“Seven months.” It’s whispered, strained.
Eddie feels dizzy. “Seven months?" Steve doesn't answer, he breathes out slowly through his teeth. “And- Dustin and Robin?” He tries to force himself to breathe.
“Last time I saw them was the same day I ran into you, well- Kas you. That was nearly four days ago.”
Something inside Eddie stirs at that name, a pleased chuff sounding from deep in his heart. “You still haven’t told me much about the other me.”
Steve glances up at Eddie, making eye contact briefly before looking away with a slight dust of color to his cheeks. “He’s… quiet.”
Eddie grins slightly, humor pulling itself up his chest and spilling out of his mouth. “So, nothing like me then, right?”
Steve chuckles softly. “No, nothing like you.” It’s quiet for a few long seconds, the only sound their shared breathing, Steve looks up, examining Eddie's face with a pinched expression, thoughts hidden so securely that Eddie wants to pry them out piece by piece. “Do you remember anything? Anything at all before you started being you again?"
Crashing. Blood. Red Red Red Red Red Re- Steve.
“Not much. It all kind of blurs together.”
Steve nods slowly, leaning back on his hands to roll his neck in a stretch. His brows are furrowed in his tell-tale thinking expression, he is looking at the duffle bag. “I was planning on leaving here tomorrow, but I think tonight might be better for time.”
Eddie looks over at the piles of food cans with a small smile. “What about those? Think you can carry all of those with you in your little bag?” It’s teasing but it makes Steve grin with a roll to his eyes.
“Hey, you’re to blame for that.”
Eddie snorts. “Can’t blame a gatherer for gathering.”
Something flashes across Steve’s face but it's too quick to tell, hidden almost instantly behind his Charming Steve Smile trademarked and all. “Then what do you suggest we do with them then, wise guy?”
“You have a car.”
“We both know I don’t know how to fix cars.” Steve huffs, giving Eddie a look through his low set eyelids. It does something to Eddie’s stomach, a warmth like a trickle.
“We both know I do.”
Steve raises his eyebrows. “Is that so? You think you can put that lump of junk back together into one piece?”
“No.” Eddie muses, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees and flash Steve with a bright toothy smile. Steve glances down at his fangs slightly before jerking his eyes back up to Eddie’s with a slow let out breath. “I think you can.”
Steve barks out a laugh. “Do you not listen?”
“I do.” Eddie raises his left hand, turning it from side to side so the light catches on his claws. “I can’t do anything other than make it worse with these things.” He clacks two together like tongs, smiling when Steve snorts. “I’ll just tell you what to do.”
Steve raises an eyebrow. “You’ll tell me what to do?”
“As if you wouldn’t listen, big boy.”
Steve laughs again, surprise in the tone as he instinctively throws his to the side with the force of it and exposes the long expanse of his neck. Eddie feels the urge to lunge over and sink his teeth into Steve’s Adam’s apple as it bobs under the skin, he fights it away with bared gritted teeth and claws digging against his palm. Fuck.
Steve drops his head into his hand with an airy huff, a smile pulling at his lips. “God, I've missed this.”
Eddie forces himself to calm down as feels his own mouth pull up at the corners, a sliver of tooth jutting out in front of his bottom lip. “Yeah?”
“Don’t let it get to your head.” Steve rolls his eyes, legs uncrossing to nudge Eddie’s knee with the toe of his boot. Eddie’s fingers move on their own accord, wrapping around Steve’s ankle absentmindedly, claws held carefully away without his knowing. That same feeling is back in his chest, the feeling he felt around Steve before the haze came to an end.
Steve had called it Kas.
“So, what’s this?” Eddie hums, free hand moving out to nudge knuckle against the strap of the duffle bag.
Steve smiles, reaching over to unzip it. “The other one is right here.” He says, tapping the holster on his side as Eddie moves around the boxes of bullets to see another gun. He doesn’t mention the small bit of fabric holding on by a thread, doesn’t need to with the way Steve is pointedly ignoring it.
“I was right about this not holding all the food.”
Steve scoffs playfully. “Then I guess we better go get started on death wheels back there.” He stands up, stretching his back and looking down at Eddie with a thoughtful smile, just observing for a second long enough for Eddie to feel Kas in his chest thrum happily again, but then he’s walking away.
“That was pretty quick.” Eddie is left scampering up to follow, trying not to trip over his wings let alone his own two feet and ignore, very difficulty, the thin bit of what feels like wire wrapped around his right leg beneath his pants. He shivers unpleasantly when it moves when he tells it too.
“I told you I wanted to leave tonight.” Steve muses in thought as he walks around the car.
Eddie nods as if Steve could see, momentarily distracted by the offset feeling of weight leaching from his back. Having wings is like having a new set of arms, he’s uncomfortably aware of them at all times as he struggles to keep them as close as possible. Though, it is pretty fucking metal when he actually thinks about it.
There’s a sound of steel clattering from where Steve is crouched down next to the car, a pile of random parts sprawled in front of him, he seems to be trying to get them all back into the open box next to him, a blush dusting his cheeks. “I got bored earlier.” He mumbles without looking up at Eddie.
“I can see that.” He laughs, coming over to crouch next to Steve. “We need that one.” Eddie stops Steve from putting up a wrench, fingers hovering over Steve’s wrist.
Steve blinks, a color to his cheeks as he looks down at Eddie’s claws, he puts the wrench on the floor next to them. “How about you get what we need, and I grab the door.”
“I did do that, didn't I?” Eddie cringes slightly.
Steve gives a forced chuckle, nodding as he stands up. “Yeah.”
Eddie furrows his brows as he watches Steve walk around the car, listening to his grunt as he picks up the door and brings it over to lean against the car. Eddie carefully grabs the rest of the tools, hooking them on his claws so he doesn’t get them mixed up in order of use.
“What do we do about gas?” He hears Steve call from the other side of the car.
“This is Johnny's garage; he has a few pumps out back. If it’s empty, then we can just roll it out there when we’re done.” Eddie stands, swinging a wrench around his claw as he walks back over to Steve. “Here.”
Steve looks up at him, taking the wrench with an odd, pinched expression to his face, ears red when he looks back to the car. “Where do we start?”
“I’m going to check the engine, see why this bad boy here was even in the shop in the first place.”
“It was propped up on a jack when I first broke in.” Steve supplies, tapping the wrench against his thigh.
Eddie hums under his breath, propping up the hood of the car. Oil’s fine, a bit old but not enough to worry about for a good while. Coolant seems pretty much empty, however. He grabs a bottle of coolant mix, pouring it in as he looks back up at Steve, who is watching him from where he’s leaning with his hip against the side of the car. “How’re the tires?”
Steve walks around it, hunching down out of sight on the driver’s side backseat. “This one is flat; the nuts are half off and everything.”
Eddie closes the hood, walking over to where Steve is crouched, trying very hard to not look at how the position rounds Steve ass perfectly. “Must have been in a hurry.” He manages to get out, though strained.
Steve snorts. “Ya’ think?”
Eddie rolls his eyes, walking over to crouch next to Steve. “Where’s the jack?”
Steve looks around for a second, groaning with frustration before dragging the bent in half jack from out under the car. He frowns at it before directing the look at Eddie. “I’m blaming you for this.”
Eddie gives a surprised laugh. “That wasn’t even me!”
“Well, you ate the things that caused it, so that makes it you now.”
“You realize how that makes no sense right?” Eddie grins, grabbing the jack from Steve. Steve gives him a look that has the Kas inside of him leaping in his chest. “Here, let me fix my not mistake.”
Eddie stands up, Steve slapping his leg slightly with an amused-annoyed huff. “Should have got here quicker.”
“You missed me that bad?” Eddie can’t help but tease. “Stevie, I’m flattered.”
“Is that how you plan on fixing it? Annoying me?” Steve gets out, strained and with a color to his cheeks.
“Oh, quite the contrary your royalness, get that spare tire from the trunk and you’ll see.” He grins down at Steve, sharp teeth on show and hair wild around him. Steve sucks in an involuntary breath.
Eddie watches as Steve gets up, brushing his hands on his pants before walking over to the trunk and opening it without another word. He pulls out the tire, rolling it over to Eddie who catches it with his foot, too scared to grab it with his claws. “You're lucky I didn't pop that.”
Steve rolls his eyes. “Just do whatever it is you’re planning.”
Eddie snorts, giving Steve a look, trying and failing to hide his amusement with the way the corner of his lip curls up. Steve grins at him as he grabs the tire, leaning it against the side of his leg with his hip bumped out to the side. Steve crosses his arms, raising one eyebrow expectantly. Eddie holds up his hands in mock surrender. “Ye of little faith.”
Eddie (reluctantly) turns his attention away from Steve to the car, tapping his chin with one claw in exaggerated thought just to hear him huff out a laugh. He really hopes this works. Eddie reaches both of his hands under the car, legs spreading into a secure stance and lifts.
Holy fucking shit.
“Holy shit.” Steve breathes; eyes wide as he watches Eddie hold up an entire side of a car without even breaking a sweat. Eddie smiles at him, eyes wide in their own surprise, brown glistening with mirth. He laughs, running a hand through his hair as a faint color dusts his cheeks. “Did you know that would work?”
“I absolutely did not!” Eddie admits with confidence, smiling even wider when Steve laughs again. He doesn’t even give him a second before “You need help there? Or do I need to instruct you on that too?”
“I know how to change a tire, asshole.” Steve rolls his eyes at Eddie’s wink, crouching down to finish removing the rest of the nuts on the flat tire. Eddie watches Steve work, stretching his wings out slightly to make up for his need to move. Steve gets the tire off fairly quick, only slowing down with screwing the nuts back on when the other is up and ready. “You can put it down now.”
Eddie carefully sets down the Dodge, not wanting to drop it in fear it will mess it up further. When he looks back at Steve the man is still crouched, looking up at him with that same look in his eye that he’s seen all day. They watch each other for a moment before Steve looks away, expression turning sour. “Steve?”
“Let’s just fix the door, okay?”
Eddie follows Steve as he stands, walking to the other side of the car where the door is propped against it. “Stevie?”
Steve stops, turning to face Eddie with a frustration fueled speed. He buffers when he comes face to sternum with Eddie, still unused to Eddie’s new height. He takes a step back so he doesn’t have to look up at Eddie, eyes widened slightly. The expression is gone in a blink and Steve is looking at the car. “Dustin and Robin are still out there, they have only one weapon between them.”
“They’re smart, I'm sure they're okay.” Eddie tries, fighting down the Kas inside of him screaming at him to fix it, fix it, he's sad, fix it! “Besides, those two can move. Never seen a kid so keen on running everywhere.” He grins, canine jutting out over his bottom lip.
Steve curses under his breath, the end of it pinching up into an exhausted half laugh half sigh. “That’s right, you wouldn’t-” he cuts himself off, running a tongue over his front teeth. “Remember how before you- well, remember how Dustin was back down there? He broke his ankle in the fall.”
Eddie furrows his brows, trying hard to fight away the anxiety in his chest and focus on making Steve feel better. “But that was months ago.”
“Eddie the world went to shit two days after you died. I tried to get him to get it fixed up, believe me I tried, but he wouldn't listen.” His hand is back in his hair and tugging, Eddie’s own clinch at his side to stop himself from pulling Steve’s hand away.
“So, he can’t run?” Steve gives Eddie a look, pained and haunted. He shakes his head. “Fuck.”
“Yeah.” Steve agrees. “Fuck.”
“So- the door.” Eddie starts, walking around Steve, careful not to touch him as he moves to pick it up. He tries very hard to push away the most likely very wrong and extremely self-pitying thought that Steve leaned into him.
“How do I do this?” Steve asks as Eddie holds the door awkwardly.
“Uh- check the hinge area for bolt holes, I just realized there is a pretty good chance I broke those.” He cringes, sighing in relief when Steve shakes his head with a small smile. “Well, that's good, really good actually. So, just slot this tube-” he holds out two fingers that are gripping a steel pipe between them “-into the holes where car and door meet when I match them up.”
Steve grabs it, careful to avoid his claws. Eddie lines up the door after Steve nods, grinning as the pipe goes in smoothly. “What?” Steve laughs slightly.
“Still wasn’t sure if I fucked it completely.”
Steve huffs out a laugh. “Now what?”
“The wrench, just tighten the hinges.” Eddie instructs, letting go of the door once it’s done, a sly smile finding his lips. “See, that wasn’t so hard, was it?”
“You’re an asshole, you know that?” Steve says, though it has no malice behind it. Eddie grins back wolfishly, following the urge to get into Steve’s space. Steve’s back bumps against the car in surprise, eyes widening as he’s forced to look up at him. Eddie’s hands, in order to prevent himself from touching Steve, grip at the roof of the car instead, caging him in. “Eddie, what are you-”
“You wanna’ help me get the food into the back now, big boy?” Eddie whispers once he’s a breath away from Steve’s ear, his instincts screaming at him to touch, taste, anything.
Steve sucks in a breath, closing his eyes. “You’re hungry.”
Eddie yanks back, shame flooding his senses and drowning out the Kas in his head screaming for Steve. “Shit- sorry.”
“It’s fine, you’re right.” Steve breathes slowly, cheeks red. “I’ll get the cans; you go get my bat?”
“Yeah- yeah, sure.” Eddie nods, quicker than he means to but Steve isn’t looking. He takes another step back.
They are quiet as they work around each other, the atmosphere tense and awkward. They are finished far too quickly, even with removing the back of the passenger seat once they realize Eddie’s wings won't fit in the cramped position they would have ended up in. Communication is limited, kept short.
The first one to break it is Steve, asking which way the gas pump is, hands in his pockets and rocking back on his heels. Eddie gets vague memories come to his mind of seeing Steve do that same movement when talking to girls in the hallway. It makes him smile a little bit, soft.
Atmosphere shifts.
The quiet is different while they roll the car out of the garage, careful to not alert the other things outside. Eddie waits, leaning his hip against the side of the car as he watches Steve put in gas. Kas is in his head as he watches the stretch of Steve’s muscles, the way his hair, wild and untamed, dusts over his shoulder. He wants to feel it. Feel him.
In the car, doors shut, Eddie tells Steve how to hotwire it. "Steve's got it. Don't you, big boy?" It’s loud as it cranks, covering up their happy laughter. Steve puts it in drive.
And they're off.
“So, explain to me again why we have to play music?” Steve questions as Eddie continues shuffling around the glove department for a music tape he considers worthy of this epic adventure.
“Because, I haven’t listened to music in seven months and that does something to a man’s sanity.” Eddie muses, examining the cover of one before discarding it back with the rest. “Doesn’t matter, all of this guy's stuff is trash anyways.”
Steve glances over at the glove department as he slowly rounds something dead in the street. “It’s just country music, aren’t you from the south anyway?”
“Don’t let the whole world hear you.” Eddie mumbles, giving up and shutting it with a huff.
“What? Scared that a couple of dogs will laugh at you and ask to hear your old accent?” He teases, laughing as Eddie gives him a look.
“Just drive.”
“Oh, come on- I thought you couldn't handle a little silence?”
Eddie turns his head to hide his growing grin. “Steve-”
“Your beauty is beyond compare,” Eddie jerks his head to look at Steve with wide eyes as he starts singing. “With flaming locks of auburn hair. With ivory skin and eyes of emerald green.”
“Dolly doesn’t count.” Eddie rolls his eyes with a grin.
Steve laughs slightly, pitching his voice lower just to make Eddie laugh as well. “Your smile is like a breath of spring, your voice is soft like summer rain.”
“And I cannot compete with you-” Eddie joins in, smile turning soft as Steve whoops in excitement, the both of them finishing off the lyric together. “Jolene.”
“And he talks about you in his sleep, and there’s nothing I can do to keep from cryin' when he calls your name, Jolene.” They sing together, Eddie pitching his voice up high, a mock soprano. Steve nudges him with the palm of his hand, Eddie laughing and eyes sparkling in return. They barely get to the end of the song, giggling like children as they mess with each other.
They settle into a comfortable silence, Steve’s left hand on the steering wheel and his right hand on his own thigh. Eddie watches him, admires.
Inside Kas craves.
The road ahead of them is red but Eddie pays it no mind, caring far more for the red flush of Steve’s cheeks and the color of his blood still dry on Eddie’s face, it feels as though it's pumping through his own veins.
Maybe it is.
Eddie feels alive.
The hunger he feels sated with the laughter Steve gave still ringing in his ears like wind chimes. The Kas inside of him rumbles with content at the memory, at the sight of the smile still resting on Steve's lips. He's happy.
And Eddie is too.
Notes:
Isn't that sweet guys! The both of them are just so happy and- no don't look behind the curtain- no that's not blood that's ketchup- hey wait look over here at the happy, yes look! Happy! Everyone is happy! . . .
Don't worry angst is coming. I wouldn't DREAM of starving y'all with it.
Also! I am in the middle of Midterms so the postings might be a day or so off for a bit.
See you next time!
Chapter 5: But the Rain is full of Ghosts Tonight
Summary:
“This is where it started.” His voice carries loud over the quiet of death. He doesn’t know why he said it, but he feels as though if he doesn’t then he might as well be the one to kill all of them. “Right here, people were coming for food and clothes and shelter. The ground caved in all over town, took entire neighborhoods with it. They called them earthquakes at first.” Steve practically spits, anger like venom on his tongue. “I was here when-” He waves his hand at the rot.
Notes:
Happy March!
They flirt in this one :P
__Chapter title from: "What Lips My Lips Have Kissed, And Where, And Why" by Edna St. Vincent Millay
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Eddie is alive.
The thought pulses through Steve’s head like the blood pumping through his body, fast, wild, out of control.
He’s alive.
Fingers grip the steering wheel so hard they turn white. Tongue heavy and dry in his mouth.
Eddie sits next to him, humming under his breath as he looks out the window, alive.
He’s alive because he drank Steve’s blood.
The thought sends it rushing down down down. Steve adjusts his sitting position, a warmth to his cheeks. He drank Steve’s blood and Steve nearly came from it.
And isn't that a whole new thing to never think about.
Ever.
“Whoa- Steve!” Eddie yells out, hand throwing out to grip the steering wheel and yank it left. The car jerks with it, skimming to a stop as Steve breaks in his surprise.
“Eddie what the fuck-” He’s cut off by a hand pressed firmly over his mouth, eyes wide in shock as he looks over at Eddie. Eddie is looking out the window, jaw slack and breathing shallow. Steve puts the car in park, reaching up to carefully pull Eddie’s hand away from his mouth. Eddie grips it before he can let go and Steve realizes he’s shaking. “Eddie, what’s wrong?”
Eddie looks at him then, eyes wet and searching. He unlocks the car door with a claw, ducking as he pulls himself out. His hand doesn’t leave Steve’s until he can no longer hold on, fingers slipping from a careful hold. Eddie’s wings follow slowly, dipping around him onto the ground by the time Steve is finally getting out of the car.
What hits Steve first is the smell.
Rot has a certain way it carries itself, distinct, a warning ingrained into its design that tells you to look away. It festers and infuses into anything near or around, corrupts. The air itself is polluted, the ground stained with death.
Steve doesn’t need to look to know where they're at. He can’t believe he forgot.
The highschool.
The place of the first masacre. Where the ground opened up two days after the earthquakes hit town. Steve was there when it happened. In one second he was folding clothes, watching Robin blush around words with Vickie, in the next he watched as all hell broke through.
Hundreds died.
A small town never seems big until you are one of the only left, the air frozen in its quiet. An unnatural quiet.
Steve feels his stomach flip as he looks at the wreckage, walls caved in, ceiling broken into rubble. The bodies.
Children.
He’s seen this before, this same scene time and time again. He watched in slow small increments as the flesh bloated and then rotted off their bones. The buzzing of the flies emerging from their skin, feeding off of their open lifeless eyes. A cold stare.
There’s a girl, around Steve’s age, laying at the front of it. Her back is crushed under a ceiling panel. Steve knows because he checked. She stares at him now, once beautiful eyes sunken with her skin. Red hair like seaweed as it splays about soaked in caked blood. He knows she didn’t die from the start because the corpses around her are next to bone.
He knows because she’s a survivor.
Carol stares at him, arm that's reached out in front of her, no doubt from her last desperate action for survival, chewed off into a stump, puss and fat dampening the ground in front of her as it leaks from under her blue-like skin.
Under her other arm is another body. Steve knows because he found it when he was desperately trying to claw her out from under the rubble. Carol died trying to save another, a child, possibly about ten based on stature. His eyes were closed when Steve found him.
Steve had retched in misery when he first saw it all. Now, as he looks upon the mounds of death all he feels is anger.
At the world, at Vecna, at himself.
Steve saved who he could, but it still wasn’t enough.
It’s never enough.
He tears his eyes away, focussing on Eddie who is still standing frozen. Eddie who hasn’t seen this. Eddie who doesn’t know.
“This is where it started.” His voice carries loud over the quiet of death. He doesn’t know why he said it, but he feels as though if he doesn’t then he might as well be the one to kill all of them. “Right here, people were coming for food and clothes and shelter. The ground caved in all over town, took entire neighborhoods with it. They called them earthquakes at first.” Steve practically spits, anger like venom on his tongue. “I was here when-” He waves his hand at the rot.
Steve remembers children laughing and crying, families reunited. An uncle sitting alone as he holds his child’s wanted poster in his hands. The eyes were scribbled into exes and horns were drawn on. Steve never found out who did it. He ripped down two on his way inside that second day.
He wishes he knew where Wayne was now. He wishes he knew if he is even alive.
There’s an agony in ignorance.
Eddie is looking at him, expression mixed and pitiful. His fingers clamp around nothing at his side. Stained air wisping through the gaps of his fingers. His nose is scrunched and Steve wonders how this must smell to him.
“The trailer park-” He starts, jerking his head away from Steve to look at the bodies again, there’s a wobble to his lips, a tremble in his voice. “I didn't see it when we- we should have passed it on the way.”
Steve looks away from Eddie, brows furrowing and lips pinched into a tight line. Eddie sucks in a breath and Steve has to close his eyes when he hears Eddie gag slightly.
Ignorance is all consuming.
“My uncle?” Eddie asks after a long stretched out second of quiet. A rotten quiet full of answers Steve can’t give.
Steve can give one at least. “He survived the earthquakes.”
Eddie lets out his breath through his clamped teeth, it whistles slightly, in a relief Steve doesn’t think Eddie quite understands.
“We should get out of here, find a different way.” Steve thinks out loud, licking his bottom lip. “Our meet up spot is the Henderson home-”
Home not house, because Steve’s home is crumbled apart. His house still stands. Empty and alone. It’s always been alone. Even alive alone. A ghost house. A ghost town. Everyone! Dead. Dead. Dead!
Carol’s eyes watch him.
“This was the shortcut,” he sighs, anxiety pitching up from his stomach to his chest. “But the other way won’t be that long, we just need to head back the way we came some.”
That’s a lie and Steve knows it. Under normal circumstances, it wouldn’t take long, around thirty minutes or so. But now, with the way they have to drive slowly and carefully, always watching, always aware. It will take far far longer.
He looks at the road in front of him, at the ripped open torso of some now John Doe. He would have hit it if Eddie wasn’t paying attention.
Usually this path is fine. It’s good, walking that is.
The dogs like to drag their meals into the street.
They always have to be quiet when they pass through, weaving through the bodies in the solitude of numbers, something that’s become such a habit that the meaning behind it is practically lost to Steve.
But he remembers it now.
There’s a growl coming from the ruckage.
“Eddie, get in the car.”
“What?” He asks, not used to listening. He doesn’t need to be aware when the monsters run from him and not the other way around.
Steve gets in, shutting the door and reaching back into the backseat to make sure the bat is easily accessible. “Eddie!”
Realistically, Steve knows Eddie can protect himself, is more dangerous than the things starting their slow oncoming circle around the car. But he’s lost him to these monsters once before, he won’t allow that to happen again.
“I swear to fucking god Eddie if you don’t get in you’re going to have to fly to catch up!” Eddie slides in, the door not even shut as Steve presses the pedal to the floor. The Dodge goes over the nameless torso, its ribs caving with a sickening crunch as it gives to the weight.
He doesn't bother weaving through, car nearly flipping as it plows over the bodies littering the road. His knuckles are white as they grip the wheel, left knee bouncing as he jerks the car left and onto the dirt path that leads off of the main road. The rocks skid out from under the tires, he swerves slightly, wheels not meant for this terrain.
His eyes are hot with tears.
“Steve!” He hears over the pulsing of his own blood, pounding in his head like a migraine from hell. The car swerves again, more out of control. “Steve, stop!”
He slams on the break, jerking forward in the sudden motion and bursting his nose on the wheel. He forgot his seatbelt.
It’s dark for a moment.
“Shit, fuck- shit! Steve!” Eddie comes into his vision as he blinks his eyes open, hands tangling in Steve’s hair as he maneuvers him back to lean against the headrest. He’s in two as Steve blinks at him dazedly, blurry and splitting.
Eddie and Kas Steve thinks before groaning with sudden oncoming nausea.
There’s a palm pressed to his forehead, another holding the back of his neck. Eddie is in his face, saying something Steve can’t hear over the ringing in his ears, but then he’s gone. Steve feels himself make a small sound resembling a cry, wetness running down his cheeks. Eddie is back instantly, he leans into the warm hands cradling his face, cold claws barely touching skin. “I’m right here, I’m right here baby. You’re going to be alright I promise.”
As Eddie speaks Steve feels himself being moved out of his seat, carefully pulled over the middle console and into Eddie’s lap.
“It’s a concussion, just- I got you okay?” Hands in his hair massaging his scalp, Steve nudges his nose under Eddie’s jaw. His legs are still scrunched in the driver's seat, hip pressed uncomfortably against the stick put in park.
Steve doesn’t know why he’s reacting like this. It’s not even the worst concussion he’s had. Maybe it’s the hunger, the exhaustion. Maybe it’s just the fact that he’s so fucking sick of being strong.
His hand grips Eddie’s arm.
He feels Eddie let out a shaky breath over the edge of his hairline, fingers in his hair stilling.
Oh yeah. Steve’s bleeding.
He pulls back, trying to blink away the blur of his vision. “Eds.” He slurs, tongue heavy in his mouth.
Eddie sucks in a sharp breath at the old nickname tumbling off Steve’s tongue with rotten ease. “Yeah, Stevie?”
“The car?” He manages, words like sand on his tongue.
Eddie huffs a broken laugh. “The car’s fine.”
Steve hums slightly, eyes blinking closed with the weight of it, Eddie taps his cheek lightly, hand holding his jaw as Steve asks “You?”
“I’m fine, I’m great.” Steve’s head feels like a block of cement as it lolls around in Eddie’s grip. Another hand holds the back of his skull, keeping him still. “Hey- hey, stay with me, okay? Look at me baby.” Steve opens his eyes and Eddie smiles, head tipping back to further the distance between him and Steve’s blood. “Good. That’s good. Just keep looking at me.”
He watches, forcing himself to keep his focus on Eddie as he’s moved into the backseat. He hears the clattering of food cans as Eddie brushes them all onto the floor to make room for him. He’s laid down carefully, head being cradled until it’s against the seat cushion.
When Eddie leaves his sight, he’s back to looking at the scribble on the ceiling.
He shuts his eyes out of reflex, a flinch.
There’s a bottle being pressed to his lips and a hand sliding under his shoulders to lift him up into a slight crunch. “Drink.” He does.
The water isn’t cold but it fights away the needles in his throat, opens up his chest where it had felt glued together. Eddie smiles at him, a gentle kind of smile. There’s an ache in Steve’s bones when he sees it. A yearning that’s been buried for quite some time.
It’s easier to see now, blurriness and double vision calming as he blinks his eyes dumbly at Eddie. “Thanks.” He mumbles, a small tug pulling up the edge of his lips ever so slightly. Eddie sits him up against the seat’s back.
“Don’t thank me yet.” Steve watches as Eddie opens the lid with a claw, digging through the metal and peeling it back with ease. He reaches over to crank down a window, throwing the lid out through it and onto the dirt.
Steve furrows his eyebrows, feels himself pout a little. “Littering s’ not good.” The words still sound slurred, but he doesn’t really care. The Robin in his head yelling angrily about environmental health or whatever. Global warming, icebergs melting. All that fun stuff.
“I don’t really think that matters anymore, Stevie.” There’s a hand in his hair again and Steve is lost to the touch, closing his eyes to the soft massaging of his scalp. The hand moves down from his hairline to his jaw after a second, a small bit of pressure encouraging Steve to “Open.”
There’s a sweetness on his tongue. He opens his eyes again as he chews slowly, soft and syrupy. “Peaches?”
“Myrtle’s very own.” Steve makes a questioning noise and Eddie grins, grabbing another peach pinched between two claws with one hand, the other still holding Steve. “Don’t worry too hard about it sweetheart, it’s not good to exercise your brain with a head injury.”
Steve grins around the second peach being placed on his tongue, Eddie’s rare southern making a show. “Howdy.”
Eddie makes a face, confusion pinching his eyebrows down. Steve wants to smooth them back, finds himself actually doing so, Eddie’s skin is softer than he remembers. Eddie huffs a laugh, head leaning into the touch as he realizes. “I never should have told you that.”
“M’ glad you did.” Steve swallows, the pain in his stomach lessening. Eddie’s claw pushes down his lip a little. He ducks his head to smile around it. Eddie sucks in a breath, closing his eyes for a solid five seconds before breathing it out with a low shake.
“You’re going to be the death of me.” Steve gives him a look, unamused. “The second death of me.”
“Not funny.”
“Not laughing.” Eddie grins at him, apologizing with a comforting drag of a thumb over Steve’s jaw. “Enough talking now, eat so you can get your strength back.”
Steve listens, letting Eddie feed him quietly. It’s an intimate act; one Steve isn’t well enough to contemplate. No one’s ever held him through a concussion before, through anything before. He feels his eyes damp by the time Eddie finally empties the can, throwing it out of the window and cranking it back up. He allows himself to be maneuvered again, body feeling like air with the gentleness of it. He’s lying on the seats, a mock echo of the first night with the dogs.
He doesn’t feel sad when Eddie pulls away, closing his eyes to the sound of the driver’s seat back being removed and placed on the passenger's side. He’s asleep by the time Eddie is pulling them back onto the road.
Steve sleeps for a solid nine hours. The sun is up at its peak and the red of the sky is bright. He groans as he wakes, popping his joints and rolling his shoulders while he pushes himself up into a seating position.
Eddie isn’t in the car. There’s a shadow on the ground in front of the door on Steve’s right, a shift of wing.
He opens the door, stepping out and cringing at the way his hip pops in the movement. “Eddie?”
“Right here.” He looks up, meeting eyes with Eddie who is perched on the roof of the car. Eddie smiles at him and Steve feels something in his stomach flip.
“What are you doing up there?” He asks, looking around and seeing that they are in the Henderson driveway. It’s quiet. Steve hates the plunge of anxiety in his chest.
“Keeping watch.” Eddie shrugs, wings raising with it. Steve nods, putting one foot on the tire and two hands on the hood. He grunts as he lifts himself onto it, embarrassed over the strength he’s still lacking. “Steve! What are you doing!?”
“Keeping watch with you.” He settles next to Eddie, legs swinging out in front of him. Eddie leans in a little, just for a second, but then he’s pulling back with closed eyes. When he opens them, they are slightly dilated, but then back to normal. “You alright?”
Eddie makes an mhm sound, eyes trained on Steve as he tilts his head. “You’re the one who got a concussion, Stevie.”
“Don’t remind me.” Steve huffs with a smile, fingers playing with the fabric of his pants. Eddie gives him a look, a small expecting look with an air of teasing to it. “I’m fine. Really.”
“Still, you should take it easy for a bit. Concussions are pretty serious, even if your jock ass doesn’t think so.” Eddie nudges Steve’s foot with his own, canines jutting out over his bottom lip as he smiles.
“That’s all I've been doing this past week. Trust me, I’m all easy-ied out.” This time it’s Eddie who rolls his eyes. Steve turns his head to look at the Henderson home over his shoulder, nose scrunching up in thought. “Have you checked it out yet?”
“I tried a few hours ago, couldn't find the key.”
“Eddie, you are like seven feet tall with wings and fucking Wolverine claws. You don’t need a key.”
“Breaking in didn’t feel right. It’s Mama Henderson’s place.” Eddie nudges his shoulder against Steve’s, keeps it there. “Besides you said it was your meetup spot. Those are sacred.”
Steve nods, color coming to his cheek at the contact. “Hey, uh- thanks for helping me last night man.”
Eddie scoffs slightly under his breath, mouth silently forming the word ‘man’ like it tastes horrible. But his shoulder is still pressed against Steve’s and his smile is soft when he looks back at him. “You would have done the same.”
Steve gives a pinched smile, a half ass nod, mind too focused on the fact that he didn’t.
Eddie died and Steve wasn’t there in time.
He looks back at the Henderson home instead. “I don’t think they’re here.”
“We should still check it out, they might have come and gone, left some clues.” Eddie wiggles his fingers at Steve, claws glistening in the light. It pulls a snort out of him, making Eddie grin, sharp teeth on show.
Steve huffs in agreement after a second, nodding his head. “They run on well water.”
“We could shower.”
“I was thinking about refilling our waters, but yeah- we really need one.” Steve feels himself laugh, feeling almost lightheaded with it. “Maybe get a change of clothes.”
“You think Dustin’s little nerd shirts will fit you, big boy?” Eddie teases, foot hooking around Steve’s.
Steve smiles down at it. “I have some of mine here, Mrs. Henderson made me spend the night after I checked myself out of the hospital, Robin brought them over. She spent the night too.”
“One big happy family.”
“Yeah.” Steve sighs, a lump coming to his throat. He remembers it. The pain of the bites, Robin curled silently next to him. Dustin didn’t sleep. Steve didn’t either. They didn’t talk. Dustin didn’t talk for quite some time.
Eddie hops off the car, shaking out his hair, arms, and wings. He smiles up at Steve, holding his hand out. “My liege.”
“You’re joking.” Steve deadpans.
“Not in the slightest Mr. Concussion. Now, come on.” He waggles his hand expectantly. Steve rolls his eyes but complies, gripping Eddie’s hand like he’s one of his sport buddies and trying very hard not to think as Eddie grabs his hip and lifts him off the car.
Steve forces a cough, turning his head to not look at Eddie as he places him on the ground and fighting the heat in his cheeks. “That wasn’t necessary.”
“It was fun.” Eddie counters.
Steve refuses to look up at him, opening the car door and grabbing his bat. He doesn’t answer Eddie, walking the way to the front door and leaving him to follow. Eddie scampers behind him, groaning as Steve reaches into a bush and pulls out the key on a chain.
“I didn’t think of that.”
“So dumb it’s smart, right?” Steve grins back at him as he unlocks the front door. Eddie huffs, shaking his head and ducking to follow him inside.
Neither notice how the clouds in the sky grow darker.
“Alright.” Eddie claps his hands together, looking down the hall from the kitchen. “Where’s Dustin’s room, I want to see all his little bits of shame.”
“Uh- right down there.” Steve points to the end of the hall. He walks over to the cabinet, unlocking the combination lock they put on there at the start. Once open he pulls out a walkie and…
and Eddie’s vest.
He holds the fabric in his hands, denim still crusted with the Upside Down. Dio stares up at him, he runs a thumb over the print.
He walks the direction of Dustin’s room, following where Eddie went. Eddie looks up at him as he enters, sitting on Dustin’s bed and holding a picture frame like a bomb in both his hands. “Hey, I think this belongs to you.”
He hands it over to him, glancing at the frame as Eddie takes it with a wet laugh. “You kept it?”
Steve nods, sitting down next to him, picking up the frame and putting it back on Dustin’s side table. Eddie’s face stares back at him, almost a year younger, dimples wide and teeth human. Dustin is in it as well, looking up at Eddie with wonder in his eyes. “He insisted.”
Eddie smiles sadly, head hanging as he looks at the photo as well. “How… is he?”
“Bad.” It should have been you! “Really bad.”
Eddie sucks in a breath, closing his eyes. “I miss him.”
“He misses you.” It’s a whisper but it's heard, Eddie crumbling into himself and pressing at his eyes with his palms. Steve feels his own eyes wetten in shared response. “It’s not your fault Eddie.”
“It is.” Eddie mumbles pathetically.
“You didn’t know you would die.” He puts a hand on Eddie’s lower back, holding him between his wings. Eddie falls into him, face hidden in his neck. Two puzzle pieces so used to old habits.
He’s quiet for a second. “I did.”
Steve doesn’t blame him, a shaky sigh expanding his chest as he holds Eddie closer. He would have done the same for Dustin, would then, would now. “He’s going to be a mess when he sees you again by the way, you’re going to have to give him a moment to get it all out of his system.”
“You think he should see me?” Eddie says against his neck, lips pressed against skin as they form the words.
Steve’s fingers tighten around the fabric of Eddie’s ripped to shreds Hellfire shirt. “Why shouldn't he?”
“Look at me Steve, as metal as I am now, I’m not exactly safe to be around.” A hand grabs Steve’s, opening the palm to rub a thumb over the new scar from Eddie’s claw. “I mean, I’ve already hurt you.”
“You weren’t exactly yourself there Eddie, it’s okay.” Eddie doesn't answer him and Steve pulls back, ducking to make eye contact with Eddie. Their foreheads bump a little. “I’m serious. You’ve been forgiven since the second it happened. It was a high adrenaline moment; shit happens in those.”
Eddie smiles a little, closing his eyes as he slips a hand onto Steve’s lower back just to hold him. But then he frowns, worry pinching down his brows. “What if I hurt Dustin?”
“I won’t let that happen.” Steve says with such conviction that he feels it in his bones, rattles his teeth. Eddie stares at him, blinking as he thinks. He nods after a second, relenting, surrendering, trusting.
It’s a strange thing. To be trusted.
It floors Steve, mind fuzzing with the intensity.
Eddie looks down at Steve’s shirt, dried in blood. He lets out a shaky breath after a small inhale, closing his eyes. His voice is strained when he speaks. “We should shower.”
“I smell that bad?” Steve teases, getting off the bed.
Eddie stares up at him, pupils ever so slightly dilated. “No.”
Taken aback, Steve doesn't respond, walking over to the closet in the hall to grab a few towels. He can feel Eddie’s eyes on him the entire time. “Mind if I go first?” Eddie shakes his head slowly, fingers tight as they grip the blanket he’s sitting on.
The second Steve closes the door to the bathroom and finds himself alone enough to process he nearly collapses, head in his hands as he leans against the wall. “Fuck.” It comes out like razors, flooding his senses like water. Like drowning. Steve’s drowning and he’s stuck in it. It’s as if there’s an anchor inside his chest, caught on the bones of his rib cage and dragging him down, down, down. The skin on his knuckles ache with memories, his jaw, the meat of his stomach. The breath in his lungs escapes him as the light outside the water dims. Eyes closed; Steve drowns.
On the other side of the door Eddie stands, hand raised to knock before dropping it with a frown and a shake to his head.
Eddie walks back to Dustin’s room. Steve turns on the shower.
And for the first time in seven long months, it starts to rain.
Notes:
I'm sure that the rain means nothing at all.
The next chapter is a fun one wink wink.
Chapter 6: Between the Heaves of Storm
Summary:
The storm outside rages.
Notes:
Thank you all for your lovely comments!
__Chapter title from: "I heard a Fly buzz - When I Died" by Emily Dickinson
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
The storm outside rages.
Dustin’s room is dark as pelts of red frozen bits of water hit the window with enough force to shake.
Steve’s asleep on the bed, scrunched tight on the edge of it as another body is lying still and awake behind him.
Kas noses the nape of Steve’s neck, curling down just enough to press his forehead against the back of Steve’s head as his hands grip him close, holding Steve against his chest. Kas’ wings are blanketing over them, blocking out the little light. Finger’s trail over Steve’s sternum, pressing a palm flat against it so that Kas can feel the steady rise and fall of his chest.
He takes another inhale of the scent of Steve’s life, a sound coming from the back of his throat small and desperate.
Steve stirs a little and Kas makes himself freeze. Steve’s heart is calm when he’s asleep. He likes when Steve’s heart is calm.
Not afraid. Never afraid. Steve is too good to be afraid.
Canine teeth jut out as Kas grins against the top of Steve’s spine, lightly dragging over the skin blanketed by Steve’s growing hair. His hair is soft, fluffy from the shower. It tickles Kas’ nose slightly. He loves it.
Steve stirs again, a small sleepy groan escaping his lips. Kas responds to the noise with one of his own, curving up his knees to rest in the crook of Steve’s. He feels as Steve wakes, slowly and surely as limbs become lighter and mind more clear. He hears Steve’s small little confused “what?” and feels the small spike in his pulse. He hugs Steve tighter, willing his heartbeat back to calm as he trills gently.
Steve shifts in his hold, their legs tangling as he turns to face Kas. “Eddie?”
Kas makes a displeased noise, squinting his dark pupiled eyes at Steve.
Steve sighs. “Kas.” He closes his eyes as Kas bumps their foreheads together, a small smile tugging at his lips. “I knew you were hungry, you idiot.”
Kas ducks his head to nose along Steve’s jaw affectionately, hands now on Steve’s lower back pressing them chest to chest. He grins against Steve’s skin as he feels hands travel up and tangle themselves in his hair. He makes a small sound in the back of his throat, pleased and teasing.
Steve laughs. “Shut up, you have no place to talk.” His hands travel from hair to face, holding gently as he pulls Kas back. “They kind of look like a bat’s.” He muses, thumb gently rubbing the skin of Kas’ cheek as he looks into his eyes. Kas blinks at him, tilting his head into the hold.
Steve’s smile wavers slightly as Kas presses his nose to Steve’s wrist and inhales.
“Right.” Steve sighs, Kas frowning at the spike in Steve’s heartbeat. Steve pulls away, untangling himself from Kas despite his noise of protest. He sits up, facing away from Kas as his feet touch the ground. He looks back at him. “Come on.”
Kas makes a small confused trill.
“You’re hungry right?”
Kas just stares at him.
“Come on.” He gestures at the floor in front of him, waiting patiently for Kas to unfurl from the bed and off of it. He walks over to Steve, frown deepening at the drastic difference in height. He gets on his knees to counter this, the spike in Steve’s heartbeat sounding different now. “Good.”
Steve smiles at him, hand coming out to smooth Kas’ hair away from his face. Kas grins back, chin coming down to rest on his thigh.
Steve sucks in a breath, closing his eyes. “Hands behind your back, Kas.”
Kas looks up at him but obeys, fighting every instinct he has just to please Steve.
Steve nods at him, mouth pinching into a line as he grabs the pocket knife from off of Dustin’s night stand. He breathes in through clamped teeth, biting his bottom lip with a hiss as he digs the sharp of the knife into the meat of his palm.
The smell of Steve’s blood is overpowering. He grips his own wrists with his claws to prevent himself from pouncing.
“Open.” Steve says in a mock echo of the previous day. Eddie fed Steve, now it’s his turn. Kas opens his mouth, tongue jutting out slightly. He moans around the taste as Steve drips his blood into Kas’ waiting mouth, salivating at the nectar-like flavor.
Steve.
The single thought pulses through him, Steve’s blood making it so his own moves right. Alive.
It is your blood I have inside of me, pumping through my veins. Kas thinks, blinking his eyes open as Steve bleeds for him. I love you. I love you. I love you.
Eddie is in the words; Kas is in the desire.
One horrible whole.
But oh, how the whole wants.
Kas sleeps slowly, tongue lapping at Steve’s skin as Eddie wakes once more. He pulls back with a harsh suck in of air, slowly removing his own claws from his own flesh.
“Hi, Eddie.” Steve sounds strained, almost breathless above him.
“Steve?” Eddie croaks. “What did you do?”
“Got you back.”
Eddie is on his knees in front of Steve, tongue tingling with the taste of blood. He looks at Steve’s hand and feels guilt slam into him, snapping through his ribs like sticks with the way it fights to rip apart his heart. “Did I…” He trails off, lip catching on his teeth as he sucks in a sharp breath.
“No, that was me.” Steve grabs the still open knife from where it rests on the nightstand. He hovers it above the still bleeding cut, grimacing as he flexes his palm, the skin of the open wound stretching.
“You hurt yourself.” Eddie observes numbly, taste in his mouth turning sour. Steve closes the knife with a small hum, neither denial nor confirmation but an acknowledgement that does absolutely nothing for Eddie’s all-consuming shame. “Steve.”
Steve looks down at him, mouth pinching into a line. “I don’t know if you've noticed Eddie, but you need human blood to not go all Upside Down.”
“Still.” He protests hopelessly, lost in it. Steve looks away from him, sighing slowly through clamped teeth, mouth pinched into a frown. “Steve, I don't want you to hurt yourself for me.”
Steve opens his mouth, but Eddie continues.
“I don’t want you hurting yourself at all.” It comes out as a desperate sort of hiss, one that makes Steve pinch his eyes shut tight.
“You can’t just say that Eddie. You don’t know what the past few months have been like.”
“Then tell me!” Eddie pleads, hand coming out to hold Steve’s own wounded one, keeping him from breaking the skin further with his anxiety. Something haunted flashes through Steve’s eyes. Eddie involuntarily makes a noise of distress at the sight, Kas jumping in his chest.
“It wasn’t enough.” Steve whispers to himself. Eddie doesn't know what he means, hates his ignorance.
“What wasn’t?” Desperation leaks through his words. He grips Steve’s wrist like a lifeline.
Steve opens his mouth, closes it. He sucks in a breath and lets it out slowly, squaring his shoulders as he pointedly doesn’t answer the question Eddie needs answered. Instead “You. You’re still hungry aren’t you?”
Eddie reels back slightly, grip loosening because Steve is right. Eddie still feels hollow with hunger.
Steve must see it on his face, because he’s now giving his hand like an offering. “Go ahead.”
“Steve-” He’s cut off by the scent of it, the air tasting like Steve’s blood as it holds still mere inches away. He looks up at Steve instead, clawed fingers wrapping around Steve’s hand as he feels himself give another noise. Almost a moan.
Steve smiles at him, soft yet sad. Bittersweet. “It’s okay.”
Eddie tries to fight it, he tries, but his instincts are far stronger than his will. Lips attach themselves to Steve’s skin before he even has the chance to blink, tongue coming out to lap over the bleeding wound.
He hates it. He loves it.
This time when he drinks it lacks the sound of pain. Steve gasps, eyes blinking shut as his body jerks forward, closer.
Taste once again floods Eddie’s senses, a sweetness that makes his head spin, and his ears rush with the thrum thrum thrum of Steve’s beating heart, feeling it pulse all the way down his throat. His fingers grip Steve tighter, angling his hand in a way that forces Steve to lean back, head hitting pillow.
“Ed-” Steve chokes out, hand not clasped reaching out to tangle into the hair at Eddie’s nape, pulling him up to where Eddie is forced to kneel one knee on the bed, so he doesn’t collapse into him. Eddie moans against his palm, pulling back to lick all the way up to his wrist. Steve’s hips jerk up involuntarily, clothed cock straining beneath his pants seeking friction in any way it can find. “God-”
Eddie finds himself pressing a kiss to the inside of Steve’s wrist, a small gentle thing that brings a whimper escaping from behind his lips. Steve pants below him, hips rolling up against nothing, searching for a touch that isn’t there.
Eddie watches him do so with a kind of morbid curiosity, heart hammering in his chest and mind dazed by Steve’s taste and the smell of sex in the air. Oh, how Eddie wants.
“Steve.” He whispers against skin, mouth trailing up to hover right above Steve’s collarbone. The thruming of his heartbeat is louder here. He sucks in a breath, closing his eyes and rests his forehead against the bone instead. He forces himself into clarity, blinking his eyes harshly and digging his claws into his own skin. “Steve.” he repeats through clamped teeth.
“Eddie- please. ” Steve shakes under him, hand now pulling Eddie’s hair slightly, trying to pull him to his throat. Eddie lets himself be moved for just a second, releasing Steve’s hand and putting them on either side of the man below him. He turns his head at the last minute, nose brushing along Steve’s jaw. He pulls away despite Steve’s loud protest, pressing a kiss between his brows to sooth him.
“Not tonight, baby.” He mumbles, lips still pressed against skin. “Not when we’re like this.”
Steve groans as Eddie pulls back, standing on unsteady legs. He feels his own erection rub against the fabric of his jeans, zipper taunt. He feels dizzy over the lack of contact, a pull in his chest trying to bring him back to where he was. He yanks against it, tangles himself in the strands. It burns his skin like wildfire.
There’s a shame in his gut.
Walking out of the room does nothing to hinder it, the Steve on his tongue still begging him to come back.
Steve lays on the bed, arms spread and chest rising and falling with strained breaths. His eyes are blown wide. His cock is still hard. He throws his arms over his eyes, a low frustrated groan spilling from his lips. “Fuck.”
He feels dirty, red staining his skin around his closed up wound. He looks at it, turning it in the little light as the rain continues outside. It’s completely healed. He briefly remembers his shower from yesterday, bringing his fingers down to hover over the healed scars on the center of his chest. The skin around it was bruised from the reverse of blood flow, but- it was healed.
Completely.
He wonders what would happen if he bled from elsewhere, that mix of pain and pleasure bleeding out from him where his body had screamed for it mere minutes ago. He imagines teeth, imagines those long canines Eddie flaunts around sinking into the meat of his neck. He imagines a tongue, licking away the blood, sucking it out of him.
His cock jerks in his pants.
“Fuck.” Steve repeats.
Suddenly, he feels wrong for laying on Dustin’s bed in Dustin’s childhood bedroom. He sits up, blinking away the black spots in his eyes, grimacing as the restriction of his erection grows worse. He stands, quietly making his way to the bathroom. He hears Eddie in the kitchen, going through drawers. When he closes the door to the bathroom, locking it with a blush, he sees that the medicine cabinet behind the mirror is slightly open.
He doesn’t think about it too hard, too preoccupied with shucking down his pants and removing himself from his briefs with a pinched off sigh of finally.
He doesn’t even bother with finding lubricant, just spitting into his own hand as he slowly pumps himself from base to head, thumb shaking as it brushes over his tip.
He hasn’t done this in seven fucking months.
His knees buckle slightly in the upstroke, free hand reaching out to grip onto the sink as he bites his lip to suppress the moan that's trying to fight its way out.
He’s always been noisy.
The spit dries faster than he can keep up with, hand formed in a cupped C as it slides across his cock in a sort of twist motion. He spits in his hand again, following the pleasure like a desperate animal in heat. He slides his thumb over the slit again, precome dribbling out alongside a bit off half moan.
He breathes heavily, eyes closed as he follows the feeling to climax.
He thinks about Eddie then, imagines that it’s his large hand instead of Steve’s own. He wonders what it would feel like, those claws grazing ever so slightly over his shaft, down over his balls and pressing right against his taint.
When Steve comes he sees white.
He gasps around breaths, hunched over himself as he blinks his thoughts back into existence. He shakes where he stands, knees wobbling. He collapses on top of the toilet lid, staring at his own come as it begins to dry on the shower tile. “Jesus.” He mumbles to himself, wiping his own come off of his hand and onto the used towel by his feet.
He thinks he should feel some kind of shame over orgasming over his ex childhood best friend and now ally? Friend? He doesn’t really know, post nut clarity telling him to grow a pair and figure it the fuck out. It also tells him that his mind is still too hazed with pleasure to really give a shit.
He cleans up, tucking his now flaccid penis back into his briefs and fixing his pants. He looks in the mirror, cheeks flushed and pupils dilated.
Well- maybe not shame, but definitely embarrassment.
His flush deepens with it and he decides to just rip the bandaid clean off instead of beating around the bush trying to find a dead horse. He opens the door, sucks in a breath and hopes Eddie is too preoccupied with whatever he’s doing to tell that Steve just came harder than he’s had in over half a year.
He wanders into the kitchen, following the noise to find Eddie trying to carefully sort through an opened emergency aid kit. “Eddie?”
Eddie jerks up when he sees him, seemingly surprised. He accidentally knocks over a roll of medical tape in his jumpiness. “Steve! Hey, uh-”
“What are you doing?” Steve asks as he walks over, picking up the tape and putting it back in the kit.
“I was getting stuff to put on your fucking knife slice.” Eddie huffs, pulling the tape back out of the kit and onto the table.
Steve snorts involuntarily, Eddie gives him an unamused look.
“Hand.” Eddie demands, holding his own out as his other grips a cleaning solution. Steve rolls his eyes but complies, giving Eddie the hand with the healed wound.
Wait- fuck-
That’s the hand he-
Eddie’s eyes go blown wide as he sucks in a breath, freezing where he stands as he very obviously tries to breathe through his mouth and not his nose. He’s flushed completely red, the least pale he’s been since Steve found him. “Um…”
Steve wants to crawl into a hole and die.
Steve pulls his hand back awkwardly, tucking it in his pocket with a strained “see? It’s healed.”
Eddie’s tongue wettens his lips slightly as he begins putting the kit back together, hands shaking slightly with his distraction, the kit’s organization now in shambles. He furrows his brows in either frustration or thought. Then-
“Wait- it healed?” Eddie whips his head to look at Steve, curly hair that’s no longer matted from the shower’s help bouncing over his shoulders with the speed of it. Steve isn’t given a moment to react as Eddie pushes all the awkward tension in the air straight into the trash by rushing over to pluck Steve’s hand right out of his pocket. “Huh.”
Steve watches as Eddie turns his hand from side to side, a single claw coming out to hover over and trace the fresh scar there. Steve brings his free hand up to tap his own chest, where five small white dots reside in the shape of a handprint. “Same here.”
Eddie’s eyes follow where Steve taps and he wettens his lips again, a nervous habit that must have started just recently. Steve is momentarily distracted by it, at the small red stain around Eddie’s lips. He swallows his spit as Eddie lets go of his hand and hovers two claws above Steve’s on his chest. “I don’t understand.”
“Must be some weird Upside Down shit.” Steve forces himself to shrug, dropping his hand and shoving them both back into his pocket so he doesn't- god forbid- reach out to touch Eddie in front of him.
Eddie snorts. “Magic spit.”
Steve chokes on a laugh, tension falling from his shoulders. “That’s one word for it, I guess.”
“I’m a master at naming things Stevie, you should have seen me in my youth, D&D master and commander. I led armies.” Eddie jokes as he leans against the kitchen table.
“You led freshmen.” Steve crosses his arms, hip resting on the table mirroring Eddie. He’s getting more used to having to look up now, it isn’t as jarring.
Eddie makes a face at him, pouts a little, the sight insane to Steve. “They weren’t all freshmen.”
“Oh, yeah, sorry I forgot. Freshmen and one eleven year old.”
Eddie groans, tilting his head back with the motion. Steve smiles to himself, fighting off a laugh. “You're an ass.”
“What else is new?” Steve shrugs, foot betraying him as it knocks slightly against Eddie’s. Eddie looks down at it with a small surprised suck in of air, lip curing into a smile. He slots them together in their dips and curve, socks scrunching up in a comforting scratch of fabric. They don’t mention it.
“You need a list?”
Steve rolls his eyes, shaking his head with a laugh. “Smartass.”
“What else is new?” Eddie parrots, raising an eyebrow as he grins wolfishly.
Steve huffs, pushing off the table and walking over to the cabinet they put some food cans in. He opens it, picking through their collection before grabbing a can of corn. He holds it back to Eddie as he fixes the stacks, reorganizing slightly. Eddie walks over, popping the can open with a claw. “Thanks.” Steve mumbles absentmindedly, standing up and grabbing a spoon from the drawer on his right. He leans against it once closed, spoon in his mouth cold as he swallows down the corn. He looks up at Eddie who’s standing next to him, eyes on Steve’s mouth.
Steve clears his throat as he gets another spoonful, looking over at Mrs. Henderson’s room. “Anything?”
Eddie shakes his head; Steve lets out a low sigh.
“They’re probably on their way back to the hospital.”
“Yesterday you said that it’s surrounded.” Steve nods. It’s not just them protecting Max. Though protecting isn’t really the right word for it anyways. More so watching.
Waiting.
“It’s where I’d go.” Steve says, looking down at the single clue they found that Dustin and Robin were here at all. That they waited for him. It’s so miniscule they nearly missed it. A small black hair tie on the center of the counter on Steve’s left, Robin’s.
“And they’re trying to find you.” Eddie realizes, finishes for Steve. He nods again. Eddie looks out the window and at the rain, frown pinching his lips down around his teeth.
“They're smart, they found shelter. Once the rain lets up enough to drive, we’ll leave, okay?” He tosses the empty can into the small trash can a few feet away, dropping his spoon in the sink. He doesn’t see Eddie’s small nod, but he does feel as the other moves to invade his body heat, a single clawed hand coming out to grip the counter behind Steve.
“We’ll find them.” Steve doesn’t know who he’s reassuring, Eddie or himself. They stare into each other's eyes, brown into brown. There’s an understanding between them.
For a second they are kids again.
It’s gone in a blink.
“Dustin said you’re the one who led their Dungeons and Daggers thing.”
“We both know you know what it’s called.” Eddie deadpans.
“Doodles and Death.”
“Steve. Please.”
Steve grins at him, a small laugh expanding the collapse in his lungs. “So, what did you do in your… campaigns anyways?” He rolls his eyes at Eddie’s teasing smile. “From what I remember it was just storytelling and fudged math.”
“Well, that’s definitely part of it. What all did the kids tell you about when you picked them up from the school afterwards?” He leans a hip against the counter next to Steve, only a few inches away.
Steve smiles softly, looking down at the floor as he remembers. “You, actually.”
“Me?” Eddie raises his eyebrows.
“They think the world of you.” He looks back up at him, taking in the wonderstruck expression.
“I didn't think…” He trails off, swallowing his own spit with a gulp. “I mean I knew they respected me and all just because I was the DM, but…”
“I was a bit jealous of you actually.” Steve admits, shrugging slightly when Eddie gives him a look. “It was weird, one second I was the cool one in their eyes and in the next that was you instead.”
Eddie stares at him, licks his bottom lip slightly. “That’s not true.” Steve looks up at him. “They think you’re a hero.”
Steve opens his mouth to respond, closes it with the way his throat closes around his disbelief. Eddie moves then, leaning over Steve so he’s forced to look at him instead of the random spot on the wall he was focusing on in order to try and get himself back under a sense of control.
“I’m serious. You… it was like you said. It was weird. I mean- Jesus- man. I’m not good with change, you know that.” Eddie huffs around an almost laugh.
“You seem to be pretty good with it right now.” Steve gives him a small smile.
Eddie smiles back. “I think that’s because I was able to get used to it subconsciously for seven months.”
They are quiet for a moment.
“They love you, Steve.”
Steve sags a little, shoulder bumping against Eddie. Neither of them move away. “When I first heard they were hanging out with you I might have freaked out a little, it was stupid.”
“Imagine how I felt when I heard his royal majesty was picking those little twerps up from my freak game.” Eddie whispers into their closeness.
Steve laughs under his breath slightly. “I haven’t been the” -he rolls his eyes around the term- “king for years.”
“Our circles never really crossed in high school, so your great fall was only heard about. It was kind of hard to believe, actually.” They don’t mention the time where it did.
Steve nods in understanding slightly, the action miniscule. “You seem to have made a king of yourself though.”
“Is that so?” Eddie turns his head to prevent himself from leaning into Steve any more. They are practically chest to chest. He flexes his hand on the counter, feels his wings shift with it.
“You said you led armies.” Steve looks up at him through his eyelashes, doesn’t even seem to realize he’s doing so, Eddie’s breath catches slightly.
“So, if I’m the king now, what does that make you?”
Steve doesn’t reply to that, face flashing with the rotten emotion of memory. He changes the subject instead. “What do kings even do in your game?”
Eddie fights off the urge to roll his eyes. “Normal king stuff.”
Steve huffs, the air of it brushes Eddie’s skin. He shivers. “Very descriptive, I’m so very captured by your famous story telling.”
“You want a Dungeon Master level story, Stevie? 'Cause I can give you one of those.” He doesn’t wait for Steve to respond, just grabbing his wrist and leading him in the direction of Dustin’s room.
Steve sits on the bed as Eddie goes over to Dustin’s small shelf, plucking a D20 between two careful fingers.
He turns to face Steve, a wide smile on his face. “You ready for an adventure, mighty paladin?”
Steve snorts, scooting over to allow Eddie to sit next to him. Eddie drops the dice into his open palm. “Paladin?” Steve snarks with familiar recognition.
Eddie makes a small ‘mhm’ noise, closing Steve’s fingers around the dice with his own. It’s like settling back into his own skin when he clears his throat, feeling half a year younger when he opens his mouth and speaks. “Well, my dear Paladin, your king has a quest for you.”
“Is that so?” Steve teases, rolling the dice around in his palm. “And what does he want me to do on this quest?”
Eddie waits for him to return his gaze, when he does it’s like fire in his chest. An ache that yearns. He feels ten years younger. “He wants you to roll.”
And just like muscle memory, Steve does.
Notes:
And there we have it! The end of the first act!
I am very excited for you all to see this next act. Act II is the longest act of this fic and brings in a few more of our favorite characters. I would like to bring attention the importance of perspective and explain that every single perspective choice in this fic was carefully thought out and has a meaning behind it. Before starting this fic, I spent two months carefully outlining every single chapter so nothing in here is accidental. Everything has a purpose.
See you soon!
Chapter 7: Somewhere, Sometime, You were Wounded
Summary:
“Robin!?” He calls, spinning around in his frantic search, voice cracking with emotion that rings and echos. “Dustin!?”
There’s a silence that stretches on for a second. A single second that feels like an eternity.
Notes:
Welcome everyone to act two! This is the longest act in this fic, featuring many new additions to the characters included, as well as the set up to the finale! The first act was focused on both running and accepting. This act is focused on searching and hunting. The last two acts (a total of four) are still a secret and I am very excited to get y'all there. Hope you enjoy Act Two's opening! More to come as always.
__Chapter title from: "Walking Wounded" by Mary Havran
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
“With a match I became a man
who summoned diesel
from the yellow caverns
of a ten-gallon jug, called the flame
now hissing out the hose
at the small house of water, that
rusted drum from which travels
an excruciating wetness — this
is what makes the body
otherwise, what makes it
sing. To take that
which has decided on a shape,
and bend, without breaking,
the lengthening fibers. To give
the straight thing curve.
To make of the tree a song
grown long in a linseed skin,
the slick hot strake waiting
to become parcel
of the round world again.”
- Ode to the Steam Box, by Matthew Nienow
Act II: Digest and Rot
Steve closes the trunk with one hand, the other swinging his bat absentmindedly. Eddie moves around it, car keys swinging in hand. “You driving, or am I?”
“Honestly?” Steve laughs. “I can’t tell whose driving record is worse.”
Eddie grimaces. “We don’t talk about the van.”
“I think Hopper has your plate memorized." He teases, leaning on his bat to spin around as he moves to follow Eddie around the side of the car.
“When do you think he memorized it? Because the number of times I actually got a ticket greatly decreased after I switched out my plate.”
“Ha- Ha- very funny.” Steve deadpans, rolling his eyes at Eddie’s cackle.
“Well, after the other day’s little accident, I think it’s best that I drive.” Eddie spins the keys again.
“You've gotten into way more than I have.”
“And yours is more recent, stalker.”
“Fine, you drive.” Eddie hoots, smiling at Steve’s small laugh.
“You ready to go then?” Eddie leans against the door, unlocking it in one quick motion.
Steve looks back at the house, thinking. His eyes catch on the rocks by the bushes. “Just- give me a second.”
Eddie watches as Steve jogs back over to the front door, grabbing three small rocks and placing them in a row on the front step. In a line from biggest to smallest. Steve, Robin, and Dustin. He smiles softly at the sight. “What? I didn’t make the cut?” He jokes as Steve turns around.
Steve huffs on a laugh. “It’s our symbol in case we ever get separated.”
“Why didn’t they leave one for you?” Eddie muses as Steve opens the passenger door, reaching back to fix the back of the seat onto the base.
“They knew I was hurt when I led the demogorgon away. The med kits were untouched, so they must have assumed I went straight to the hospital.” He doesn’t mention the other, more likely thought process the two went down. Two anxiety fueled teens with terrible separation issues and a fear of death. Loss. He can’t humor the option. Refuses too.
Eddie’s expression says he doesn’t believe him, probably thinking the exact same thing Steve is fighting away. He’s nice enough to not say anything, sliding into the driver’s seat and stretching his wings out onto the seats behind him so they aren't bent uncomfortably.
“Here.” Steve says, dropping a single rock onto Eddie’s lap. “You can add it to the next one when we find each other again.”
Eddie picks it up, the warmth from Steve’s palm still residing on the small rock. He puts it in his pocket, patting where it’s hidden with gentle acceptance. “You say that like you think one of us is ever leaving.”
“With how things are now it’s… you just never know.” Steve shrugs, like this thought process is normal.
“Nuh-uh, not if I have anything to say about it. You’re stuck with me and I'm not letting you go poof either. Ever.”
Steve blinks back at him, a small smile tugging up his lips and a flutter in his chest. “Alright, Eddie.”
With that Eddie nods, more to himself than anything, and cranks up the Dodge. He drives slowly as they leave the neighborhood, Steve looking out the window. It’s quiet, a calm quiet.
The small rock in Eddie’s pocket grounds him to this moment. His mind, like always, wants to wander. It wants to explore every thought that comes through, no matter how upsetting.
Kas is quiet inside him, sated. But then that could just be the blood.
Eddie blushes slightly, turning his head to make it seem he’s checking his blind spots.
Steve still smells like sex.
It smells almost as good as his blood.
After Eddie had left, forced himself away from Steve’s want, from his want, he hadn’t known what to do with himself. His cock was straining hard in his boxers, a pair of Steve’s because those were the only clothes that would fit him. The only thing Eddie is wearing at the moment that actually belongs to him is his pants, cleaned in the sink and scrubbed so hard that the black is now a dark gray. The shirt was a stroke of genius, a black tee with slits cut in the back for his wings held together at the bottom with safety pins.
He felt too ashamed at the moment to do anything about his erection. Blue balling himself with the force of a will stronger than he’s ever had before. It didn’t feel right, taking pleasure from Steve when he had already taken so much.
He glances at Steve, at the way he’s sitting relaxed by him. Like his blood isn’t currently keeping Eddie tethered, keeping him aware. It’s inside him like an anchor. A ship in a bottle. Glass built around the sea. Not a cage, the waters caressing the sides like an old friend. Like a lover. He’s full with it. Steve beneath his skin. He turns back to the window with a smile, soft like the ocean inside of him. The waves reach for the man beside him, a want built into the calcium of his bones.
Eddie wants.
It’s something he doesn’t deserve to do.
The ride is quiet, the only sound being the low hum of the engine and the wheels on the road. There’s the tapping of Steve’s fingers on the door, a simple one two three with his pointer, middle, and his ring. It’s calming. It’s familiar.
Time passes, the sun changing position. Quiet breaks slowly, like the sound of wind through your hair, a whistle that welcomes, a breath of fresh air. It’s not Eddie who breaks it, nor Steve, but an angry yell outside of their sanctuary.
They look at each other, eyes wide with understanding. Eddie hits the breaks, Steve jumping out of the car before it’s even fully stopped.
“Robin!?” He calls, spinning around in his frantic search, voice cracking with emotion that rings and echos. “Dustin!?”
There’s a silence that stretches on for a second. A single second that feels like an eternity. But then-
“Steve!?”
Steve turns to the sound, a wet laugh escaping him as he breaks out into a sprint. Robin crashes into him, the two of them nearly falling to the ground in the collision. Steve lifts her, spinning her in a circle as she latches onto him while she sobs.
Eddie watches from the car as Dustin jogs over to Steve, face red and blotchy. His eyes catch on the limp. His hands grip the wheel.
Steve puts down Robin, reaching out to Dustin as she refuses to let go of him, arms wrapped around his torso and face stuffed against his chest. Dustin hesitates for a second, Eddie sees the way he pulls back just for a moment. A flash of guilt on his face. Steve says something, something Eddie can’t hear, but it must have worked because then Dustin is throwing himself into Steve’s hold.
He feels stuck to his seat.
He feels like he’s intruding.
Eddie looks away.
“What happened?!” Dustin’s voice cracks as he pulls back, snot covering the bottom of his face. He sniffles grossly; Steve doesn't care.
“I had to get it away.” Steve responds, hand holding the back of Dustin’s head. A brotherly act, Dustin’s lip wobbles.
“You left us.” Robin says into the fabric of Steve’s shoulder, grip nearly painful as she hugs his ribs. Like it would prevent him from leaving again.
Something in Steve breaks at that, he moves to hide his face in her hair, nose scrunched at the crown of her head. “I had to. I’m sorry.” He holds them tighter. “I’m so sorry.”
Robin pulls back, expression wild and almost angry as he stares into his eyes. “We thought you were dead.”
He sucks in a breath, like he’s been hit. “I’m not. I’m here.”
“I thought-” Dustin starts, a choking sound cutting him off. “I didn’t mean it.”
“I know you didn’t.” Steve pulls him back into the hug, feeling the shake of the child in his arms. “I know.”
He looks over at the car as Dustin’s shoulders shake with cries, making eye contact with Eddie through the window. He nods; a thing of reassurance he hopes translates through the tinted glass.
Steve pulls back from them, putting a hand on Dustin’s shoulder. “I brought something back with me.” Dustin looks up at him, confusion pinching his face. He gets up, helping them both up as well. He smiles at him. “Come on.”
Dustin keeps a hand on his wrist as they walk, something so out of character it throws Steve for a loop. But he understands it. He understands. It is then that Dustin notices the car, stopping and pulling Steve back with it. Robin stops next to them as well, like one well-oiled machine. “Who-?” Dustin starts, hearing the car’s hum turn off.
Steve puts a hand on his back, a reassurance. “He found me.”
Eddie steps out of the car, on the other side where he can’t be seen. The car door shuts and the anxiety pulsing through his veins jumps with the noise. He’s overly aware of the monster he now is. The large wings protruding from his flesh, his height, his teeth. The claws on his fingers that have already hurt- have already made someone he cares about bleed.
He hears the gasp before he looks, the shuffle of a shoe on pavement, the sound moving away, and Steve’s quiet “it’s okay.”
There’s something overtly human in the way that Eddie’s ears ring with his anxiety. He’s gotten so used to hearing the things mortal ears cannot, the catch of a breath, the jump of a heartbeat. His own is all-consuming, he can’t even hear the click of the safety on a gun.
“Dustin! Stop!” Steve’s voice rings out as Eddie stops walking, blinking down at the boy he considers a brother pointing a gun at his face.
Dustin’s hands are shaking, Eddie can hear the bullets rattling inside as he holds his own breath.
He can see the way Robin is trying to pull Steve back, make him run. He can see Steve trying to tell Dustin to put it down, can see him pleading out of the edge of his haze. He doesn’t hear it. All he hears is Dustin’s heartbeat racing, and his lungs constricting with each panicked breath.
Eddie doesn’t know what to do.
A memory comes to his mind, an ache in his sides. He remembers. Dustin holding him, crying like the way he is now. Final words.
Eddie falls to his knees, sits on his heels. In this way he has to look up, the barrel of the gun right at his eyeline only five feet away. “I'm sorry.” He whispers like an exhale.
Dustin lets out a quiet whimper, deaf to all ears but Eddie.
“Dustin, it wasn’t-” His eyes feel hot with tears refusing to fall. “It wasn’t your fault.”
The gun wavers slightly, lowers. “This isn’t possible. Eddie’s dead.” The gun raises, steadies. “Who are you?”
“Dustin-”
“Who are you!?” He screams, cries racking his body.
“Dustin.” It’s Steve this time, Eddie watches helplessly as he places a hand on Dustin’s shoulder, at the way Dustin leans into it, turning his head to cry against his skin. He watches as Steve reaches down, taking the gun from Dustin’s shaky fingers and clicking the safety back on. It is then Dustin nearly collapses into Steve unprepared, eyes still staring at Eddie.
“He’s dead.” Dustin whispers with his face half smushed against Steve’s chest.
Desperate, Eddie looks to Steve, feels weak with it. Steve is looking back at him, mouth pinched into a line. “Dustin, look at me.”
It’s like the strength is cut from Eddie as Dustin pulls his eyes away, looking up at Steve with a wobble in his lip, most of his weight being held on one foot.
He watches as Steve holds Dustin’s head in his hands, a familial act that makes something inside Eddie to melt. It warms like lava, painfully covered in ash. “It’s okay, I promise. That’s him. That’s Eddie.”
Dustin looks back at him, Eddie still on the ground. “What happened?”
“He’s just-” Steve sighs, glancing at Eddie. “He’s just a little different now, it’s still him.”
“How do we know it’s not a trick from Vecna?” Eddie sucks in a breath at Dustin’s words, the weight behind them, the fear in his voice.
“He saved my life.” It’s said with a soft smile, small. The lava reaches Eddie’s chest.
Dustin nods, pulling back from Steve and looking at Eddie with a mixed expression. Eddie stays where he is, like Dustin is a fearful animal, as the boy slowly walks over to him. He crosses his arms over his chest, more so protecting himself than anything. Eddie wants to cry.
He sees out of the corner of his eye Robin come up beside Steve, his arm wrapping over her shoulder. He hears soft words exchanged between them. Dustin’s heart is calmer now. “Eddie?”
Eddie nods.
The dam breaks.
He nearly falls all the way back with the way Dustin throws himself into his arms, wings spreading instinctively to balance himself. He hugs him back tightly as Dustin sobs into the fabric of his shirt, hands gripped at the base of his wings. Eddie moves his weight, siting on the ground and pulling Dustin into a better hug. “I'm so sorry.” He whispers into his hair.
They hold each other for a minute, another piece of Eddie’s puzzle of a heart slotting into place. Eddie looks up at Steve, chin moving to wrest on top of Dustin’s head. Steve smiles at him, eyes wet and shining as he grins so wide Eddie can see the strain in his cheeks. Eddie smiles back at him. Two sets of teeth, human and not.
A small piece of family, reunited.
“So what? Eddie- who was not Eddie, still confused about that- just showed up and saved you?” Robin says from the backseat of the car, Dustin on her left as Eddie drives. “How did he even find you?”
Eddie turns his head to the side so Steve can’t see his expression. Embarrassment on his cheeks as he answers, “I could uh- smell him.” He cringes as it leaves his mouth, feeling all three pairs of eyes on him and an awkward quiet as thick as the red in the air.
“You could smell him?” Dustin deadpans from behind him. “Dude.”
“How bad did he reek?” Robin asks, looking at the door on her side with skepticism, Steve’s explanation was vague on which door was… removed. He was vague about a lot of things.
“I smelled like death Robin; I was covered in demogorgon guts. What do you think?” Steve sasses back, narrowly avoiding the swat she gives him in return.
“Okay so, he wanted the guts on you then? Eddie’s obviously a hunter now, like a predator.” Dustin thinks aloud, missing the way Eddie mutters 'gatherer' under his breath in correction.
“Eddie, you eat demogorgons now?” Robin teases with a fake gag.
“Not dead ones, that’s for sure.” Steve whispers to Eddie, who in return wants to hide away and die from embarrassment. He gives Steve a look, the other man grinning a dazzling smile right back at him. It’s the happiest Eddie has seen Steve in- in years, actually.
“I guess, yeah.” He replies to Robin, forcing his eyes away from Steve so he doesn’t hit something. He feels a hand grab his wing and he jerks it away from the touch in response. “Don’t do that.” He hisses with a blush, glancing at Steve whose brows furrow with slight confusion.
“Sorry- sorry. Curiosity killed the cat or whatever.” Dustin sags back into his seat, crossing his arms with a huff. “But…” He starts, prolonging the vowel.
“If you say satisfaction brought it back, I'm stopping the car.” He gives Dustin a look through the rearview mirror. Dustin holds his hands up in surrender.
“So, do you just eat demogorgons? Like- how does that work?” Robin continues, her fingers thrumming a steady rhythm against the back of Steve’s seat.
“Everything but bats I guess, never had a taste for those.” Eddie shrugs, hearing Dustin’s huff of annoyance when his wing accidently hits his knee.
“Would that be considered cannibalism?”
“What?!” Steve jerks his head back to look at Robin, accompanying Dustin’s face palm.
Robin gives Dustin an annoyed look, ignoring Steve’s outburst. “You know- like Hannibal Lecter? The Red Dragon? By Thomas Harris- I can’t be the only one here that’s read this. Eddie?”
“That’s the one with Will Graham, right? The FBI guy with murder brain?”
“I knew Eddie was cool.” He gives her a look over his shoulder. “Sorry man- I don’t like your taste in music, not my fault. It’s just screaming.”
“Okay first of all it’s not just screaming, there are plenty of ballads and shit- and second of all: fuck you, my music is godly.”
Robin snorts. “I wouldn’t call it godly.”
Eddie opens his mouth to argue more but shuts it tight with an annoyed roll to his eyes, because she’s right. “But no, I don’t think it’s cannibalism. I'm not a bat.”
Steve looks back at Eddie’s wings, raising an eyebrow.
“I’m not!”
“Then what are you?” Dustin asks.
“That’s like asking a woman her age, Dustybuns.” Eddie teases, purposely making Dustin groan in annoyance from the use of the nickname.
“So, you don’t know?” Robin finishes.
Eddie doesn’t answer.
Steve watches him silently.
“He’s Eddie.” Eddie looks over at Steve with raised eyebrows. “Just sometimes he’s a little different.”
“Different how?”
Steve grins, mischief in his eyes. “He gets clingy when he’s hungry.”
“Eddie or not-Eddie Eddie?” Robin asks. She nods when Steve holds up two fingers.
“What did you say he called himself then?” Dustin sits up, hands on the seat holding him perched.
Steve looks back at him with a questioning quirk to his eyebrows. “Kas, why?”
Dustin looks at Eddie. “Like… Kas the betrayer?”
“Just because we name things after D&D doesn’t make this D&D.” Though Eddie did consider that, when his mind first came to clarity with Steve’s blood. He did wonder.
“But- what if it’s the same? Kas is Vecna’s downfall, right? Maybe that’s why you're back.” Dustin is practically bouncing in his seat.
Eddie wants to argue, finds that the words over just how wrong Dustin is are stuck on his tongue. Caged behind teeth with power that doesn’t belong to him. Like vines holding him back. He shuts his mouth.
Vecna wouldn’t allow him to be alive if he didn’t have a reason.
Eddie’s memory is blank to it, a gap in his timeline.
“Dustin has a point-” Robin starts, rolling her eyes when Dustin chides in that he always has a point. “This could be the end.”
Her words are so full of hope they drown. Steve looks at him. He looks at Steve. An understanding.
“Yeah, it could.” Steve agrees but Eddie can hear the jump of his heart. The sound of a lie. The sound of a man who doesn't believe what he’s saying.
You can’t blame a man for not trusting hope when the very thing has been ripped out of his desperate grasp time and time again no matter how hard he holds onto it. Nails ripped and bleeding from every clawed desperation. Unlike the two behind them, that hope falls through learned hands like water. Like blood on the snow.
“So, all we need to do is let Eddie eat the things after us and he’ll be able to slay the dude?”
“This sounds a lot like your little dungeon and demons game.” Steve snarks, laughing when Dustin kicks his seat.
“It’s Dungeons and Dragons, dumbass.”
“Eddie, stop the car.”
“I’m sorry- I’m sorry! Don’t stop the car!” Dustin stresses as Eddie starts to slow down, not wanting to have to stand up ever again with how much he’s been walking on his bad leg.
Steve sends a small little smirk Eddie’s way, and he speeds back up again. Dustin sags in relief.
Eddie doesn’t exactly know why neither him nor Steve are mentioning the whole blood drinking thing, changing the subject whenever brought up. It feels personal almost. A delicate topic they haven’t even discussed yet, especially after the other night.
“So, Eddie gets hungry, goes all Kas, then what?”
Steve glances back at Dustin, then at Eddie whose mouth is sealed shut. He thinks for a second, obvious gears turning behind his eyes. He sighs. “I guess we let him go out and hunt.”
“You said he disappeared for a little bit, is that what he was doing?” Robin chimes in.
“Hunting?” Steve asks, glancing over at Eddie again, the memory of words exchanged ten years ago fresh in his mind. A hunter and his gatherer. “Yeah, it was.”
There’s a second of quiet for a moment, half the car’s population plotting while the other half sit in memories plagued and haunted several times over. Cobwebs still tangled around fingers as they desperately swat them away. A friendship so old that the revival feels new.
“How do you even hunt, Eddie? Is it more stalking or attacking?”
Eddie glances at Dustin through the mirror. “What?”
“You know, like how hawks do, or how big cats hide in the grass and wait for their prey?” Dustin starts, leaning forward in his seat. “Or do you hunt like a bat? Is it different because you’re a demobat thing?”
“I’m not a bat.” He rolls his eyes at the look Steve gives him, shifting his grip on the steering wheel.
“How do bats even hunt?” Dustin wonders aloud.
“I don’t know, why don’t you tell us, rabies girl.” Eddie asks Robin, snorting when she jumps slightly, pulled from her thoughts.
“Echolocation?” Robin deadpans after Steve whispers her into the part of the conversation they are in. “I don’t know, like every animal ever they have different eating patterns. Some drink blood, some like fruit.” She shrugs.
Steve stops himself from glancing at Eddie when she mentions blood.
“Any of em’ like dog meat?” Dustin sasses, Robin gives him an annoyed look.
“Demobats do, asshat.”
Eddie glances at Steve, confused over the aggressive interaction. Steve opens his mouth like he’s going to answer but must decide better of it because he just turns it into a small shrug and a pinched smile, looking away and out the window.
“What if Eddie’s a vampire?” Robin perks up after an awkward segment of tense silence.
“That's stupid.” Dustin whispers under his breath, slumping in his seat when Steve turns around to give him an unamused look.
“Just think about it- so the Upside Down was created by Vecna who is also…” She waves her hand.
“Henry Creel.” Steve finishes for her.
“Exactly! This whole fucked up world- the other one not this one, well I guess this one now too but- anyways, he created the Upside Down into his little imagination world. The dude definitely knows about vampires, with his creepy interests he probably loved them! It would make sense that a bite would turn Eddie.”
“But I’m not a vampire.” Steve points out, feeling the fabric of his shirt rub over the scars on his side.
“Maybe you have to die for it to work.” Dustin flinches at his own statement the second it leaves his lips, biting the insides of his cheeks hard enough to hurt. Eddie’s fingers grip the wheel.
Robin breaks the quiet this time. “Wait- Eddie do you like-” she buffers for a second, cringing slightly. “-eat the skin or drink the uh- blood?”
He clenches his jaw, letting out a low breath. He doesn't want to talk about this anymore. “Drink.”
He struggles not to look at Steve, even more so when he can hear the jump in the man’s heart at his single word answer.
“My vote is on vampire.” Robin finishes, crossing her arms as if a mic drop.
“Do vampires have healing spit?” Steve asks after a second, a small hilt to his voice. Eddie has the sudden urge to bang his head against the dash over and over again.
“No.” Robin says, expression twisted in confusion. “Why?”
“Thought I read about it somewhere.” Steve shrugs, picking at the fabric of his pants. “Seemed useful, just in case.”
“That would be pretty cool.” She nods. “We wouldn’t have to waste as many first aid supplies.”
He hums in agreement, though his mind very obviously elsewhere. Absent.
Eddie looks out the window, the sound of his own anxiety in his ears. The sky’s red is growing darker and the sound of the engine hums as a background. The tires on the pavement a wild drumline for his heart.
His own is sporadic, too quick to be human. It’s unsettling, uncanny. He listens to Steve’s instead, listens to the thrum thrum thrum until his own calms down with it. The tapping of Steve’s fingers against the bone of his knee. Like an anchor. Like a buoy.
Kept and floating above the waves, the wind blowing his hair all about. The sky is red, the sea is angry.
Something inside of him waits. Neither Kas nor Eddie, something unwelcome. Something not him.
Steve sits beside him, untouched by the thing sleeping in watching wait. Steve is like a lighthouse.
A tether to all Eddie never wants to lose, invisible rope burns around the skin of his hand.
He holds on tight as the storm of the battle inside of him roars.
As something ugly inside of him stirs.
He holds on.
Notes:
Also! The upload schedule will be changing (I don't know what to yet) as I am now a double major! But, I will definitely still be trying to post once a week. If you also read my other fics on here keep an eye out for a new chapter on them if I miss a week here for Fallen Kings.
Chapter 8: Jehovah Pleasures himself with his Axe
Summary:
The room feels small. “They’re wrong, you know.”
Eddie stares at his open palm.
“There’s nothing wrong with you.”
Notes:
Chapter title from: "Hurry Up Please It's Time" by Anne Sexton
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Steve rubs at the crown of his scalp so hard he can hear the small pops of the bones in his ears, migraine pulsing through him like nails. He drops his head back against the cold metal of the car, staring up at the church in front of him, the small cross standing tall with rotted wood at the top of the pointed roof. The ache rings with it. Thorns in his skin, digging in just above his brows. Piercing, violating. A crown that doesn’t belong to him.
He chews on his bottom lip, looking away from it and at the ground by his feet. His hand falls to the back of his neck, squeezing the meat about the bone. It hurts. It helps.
It’s dark, the nail bat resting on his bouncing knee. He watches out of the corner of his eye as Eddie and Dustin talk, Robin is inside the car behind him, window rolled all the way down. She’s taking stock of everything they have, writing in the small notepad she carries everywhere, his own notes lacking to her high standard. His handwriting being barely legible.
It’s a habit he got from her after all.
A cold weight flops on top of his head, fingers trailing through his hair. He looks up at Robin, smiling at her as she smiles at him. He reaches up, tangling their fingers together and pressing the back of her cold palm against his forehead. “That bad?” She murmurs, resting her chin on her other hand. He hums in agreement, closing his eyes as she twists her hand to rub at his forehead.
He leans into it, feeling the pain rise to his skin and dissipate at her caring touch.
He lets out a small barely audible sigh as she pulls back, looking up while she opens the car door and slides out onto the ground next to him. She leans her head on his shoulder and in return he leans his head on hers. He hears the small pop of pressure releasing and looks down to see her opening a can of green beans. She cringes slightly at the water inside of the can, using the lid to filter it out onto the grass beside her. “There.” Robin smiles, scooping three fingers inside the can to grab a half handful before handing it to Steve. He copies her, trying not to cringe at the slight slime of the vegetable as it goes down the hatch.
They turn to each other, both trying not to make faces of disgust. It doesn’t work, Robin twisting to cover her snort against his shoulder. He shushes her, trying to suppress his own laugh, grin painful with how hard it pulls up his cheeks. He sees Eddie look over at him then, face alarmed and wings slightly lifted like a cat’s tail puffed in anxiety, but then it softens out. Eddie smiles at him, relaxed as he turns back to Dustin.
Steve is overtly aware of the thrum of his own heart, feeling it calm as he stops laughing, knocking his forehead against Robin’s crown. “We got'ta finish that.”
“See, I know you’re right.” Robin twists so she can look up at him. “But I would also rather just drop dead.”
Steve rolls his eyes, grabbing another bite before handing her the can. She groans slightly but takes another nonetheless. Her teeth smack around the beans noisily as she cringes. Steve doesn’t even bother with that; glad he grabbed the smaller ones in the can and swallows them down like pills. He’ll let his digestive system chew it up for him.
He looks up as Dustin walks over, plopping down on his other side and grabbing the can from Robin, sliding the beans into his mouth like a shot. Steve snorts as he gags slightly, handing the can back to Robin as he forces himself to swallow. “I hate the apocalypse.”
Steve shakes his head with a smile, reaching up to ruffle Dustin’s curls. It says a lot that Dustin doesn’t swat him away, allowing Steve’s usual annoyances out of the sheer fact that he missed him. “So you’ve mentioned.”
“There’s nothing I wouldn't do for a home cooked meal right now.” Robin sighs blissfully.
“I could go for a burger.” Steve agrees.
“And some fries, I’d kill for some fries right now.” Dustin chimes in, reaching to grab another green bean.
“Maybe a milkshake to dip them into.” Robin says as she gets up to stretch, popping her back.
Steve hums in agreement, letting Dustin use his shoulder as a ledge to get up as well. He’s handed the can and sighs, but takes on the burden of finishing it nonetheless. He throws it over his shoulder when finished, Eddie’s words ringing in his ears. The red moon is bright now, casting a maroon filter over everything its light touches. The church looks leering, haunting. He stares at it with apparition swarming in his gut.
Robin and Dustin’s bickering cuts him out of his thoughts, turning to glance at them as they clamber into the backseat, rolling up the window to where it’s just a crack. Robin’s eye peeks through it. “Steve, you coming?”
“Not yet, give me a few okay?”
She gives a small thumbs up before disappearing into the shadows of the car. He listens to their quiet arguing for a second, to the sound of them stopping and then the small snore Robin has never been able to get rid of. He lets out a small sigh, rolling his neck.
Steve gets up, letting the bat sway by his side as he makes his way over to where Eddie is standing, staring down at the gaping canyon that spreads down and out as far as the eye can see. The existence of it in the first place is more unsettling than the fact that Steve is far used to these gaps than he should be. This one is new, branching off of one of the four spreading through town. It made their path to the hospital longer, rerouted them. “Hey.”
Eddie looks at him, tension in his shoulders breaking. “Hi.”
“How’re you doing?” Steve asks, remembering Eddie’s distressed expression from earlier.
Eddie sighs, “okay, it’s just a lot to take in.” His eyes glance up to Steve’s forehead. “How’s your head?”
“You noticed that?” Steve laughs slightly, Eddie waits for him to answer. “Better now that I’ve eaten, I can manage.”
“Why don’t you go get some sleep?” Eddie looks at the Dodge where Dustin and Robin are currently doing just that.
Steve shrugs, not wanting to admit it’s just because he wanted to spend some time with Eddie alone.
Eddie sees right through him, a grin splitting his face. “Aww, Stevie, you missed me?”
Steve lets out a small huff of air, a barely audible laugh. “You’re an asshole.”
Eddie just keeps smiling, taking a step closer, invading Steve’s space. “And you call me clingy.”
Steve glances back at Eddie’s wing which is currently spreading out behind Steve, blocking the cold breeze that picked up slightly. He gives Eddie a look that says without any words spoken: 'really?' Eddie rolls his eyes, wrapping his wing in an almost hovered blanket around Steve’s shoulders.
“We really got’ta find you a jacket.” Eddie says with an innocent smile, hands in his pockets and eyes tilted away from Steve in an obvious faux play of obliviousness.
“I take it back, not an asshole, a dweeb.” Steve teases, bumping his shoulder against Eddie.
Eddie laughs, bumping Steve back. “Come on, let’s at least get out of the wind.”
Steve allows himself to be led over to the church’s front, Eddie’s wing preventing him from moving too far away. “Clingy.” He mutters under his breath, not missing the way Eddie’s pupils flash slightly at his closeness.
Steve forces himself not to hesitate at the steps of the church, pushing open the front door and slipping through with Eddie right on his heels. The door shuts behind them with a soft clang, the echo of the sound muffled by the rows of pews on either side of them leading all the way to the podium at the far end of the room.
He feels the sudden urge to scuff the bottom of his shoe onto the wooden planks below his feet, make some other kind of noise to fill the sudden nearly overwhelming quiet that suffocates the room. He looks over at Eddie, arms coming out to grip his own elbows in an effort not to step away, not to step closer.
"What?" Eddie grins, canine jutting out over his bottom lip in a toothy smile. "Surprised I haven't burst into flames yet?”
Steve snorts, rolling his eyes as he watches Eddie move past him and through the center of the rows. Steve follows him, watching the ripple of Eddie’s wings with fascination. He remembers his reaction when Dustin touched them, remembers his reaction when he touched them. He lets his hand raise slightly, fighting against the gravity of his will. A single finger, his middle, brushes barely over the skin of Eddie’s right wing. It flutters slightly beneath his touch, but it doesn’t move away- no, Eddie doesn’t move it away.
He does look back at him though, a curious glint to his eyes, a humorous smile on his face. Eddie expands out his wing, making it brush heavily over Steve’s ribs with a laugh. Steve rolls his eyes, sidestepping with a blush hidden in the red of the dark. They walk up to the podium, Eddie craning his neck to look down at the broken boards residing where the pastor would stand, a creature of some sorts having torn them away in a desperate attempt to hunt or flee. Steve can see where it escaped from the church, a small hole in the wall to his left, wood rotted around the gap.
A hole still too big for any of them to be comfortable sleeping inside.
With a large step, Eddie places both feet on either side of the hole, gripping the podium and straightening his back. “Hello everyone,” He begins, voice ringing in the way the door’s shut did not. “Please come in and sit down, the great lord awaits us!”
Steve snorts, holding up his hands in mock surrender as Eddie shoos him over to a pew. Steve sits, shifting as the wood digs uncomfortably against his spine. Upon the second of quiet that follows Steve looks up at Eddie, even taller now that he’s sitting. Eddie’s hair is like a halo with the light of the red moon shining through the gaps in the wood. Steve huffs on a laugh when he sees that Eddie is watching him expectantly, giving him two thumbs up and receiving a wide grin in return.
“To start this off, thou art’ great believers, you have sinned!” He brings his fist down onto the wood of the podium, snickering when Steve jumps slightly at both his yell and the noise. “You have sinned with sodomy!”
Steve's confusion must be obvious because Eddie, in the same serious boisterous tone, repeats with “Butt sex!”
Steve laughs, a loud ugly thing that causes him to curl into himself, holding up a hand to try and tell Eddie to shut up when he whistles approvingly at him. “You're a dick.”
“A dick in the ass.”
His held up hand turns into a bird. Eddie laughs in response.
There’s a shuffling for a second, then- “ah-ha!” Steve looks up as Eddie pulls out a dusty bible from the small shelf hidden on his side of the podium, a single claw flipping it open to the page the string attached is marking. He pulls out a small page of notes, setting it aside and squinting in the dark. His mood shifts slightly, falls, as he reads. “It’s about me.”
Steve stands, walking over to Eddie to carefully take the paper from his slightly shaking hands.
There is a sin in our streets. It reads.
A destruction in the minds of our children. It is not fueled by drugs. It is not fueled by music. It is fueled by the devil in their minds. The cult leader that is currently hiding from his own crimes, his own sins, is the cause. The devil leads our children to the sin of homosexuality. The act of a man lying with another. Edward Munson is his hand in our town. Evil uses him to grip the mind of our innocent, vulnerable children! We have all heard the rumors, many of us have seen the act in itself. He sells drugs to our children. He preaches radicalism in our schools. He turns many of your young boys to dance with the devil.
We all know what happens to those who fall victim to those like Munson.
Steve sucks in a breath there, Eddie shifts beside him.
Edward is a murder. He accounts in ritualistic sacrifice against our innocent with his own sane mind. He is hand in hand with the devil. His shame against his own sin has led him to his satanism, to his own act of evil against us. There is a death coming to him, God’s own revenge. Our children will have justice!
A verse is written at the bottom of the page; Steve’s fingers pinch it so hard it nearly tears.
“Thou shalt not lie with mankind-” Eddie hisses out from where his hand is resting, shaking on the bible, claw pointed to the verse. “-as with womankind: it is an abomination.”
“Fuck.” Steve says, chest feeling heavy with hollowness.
Eddie shuts the bible, takes a step back. Steve crumples the paper in his fist, dropping it into the hole at his feet. “I guess I forgot.” Eddie whispers.
Seven months, nearly eight.
It’s a long time when you’re dead.
Steve doesn’t know what to say, only follows Eddie as he takes several long steps away from the podium. When he looks at him his eyes are wet. There’s an ugly twist in Steve’s chest. “Eddie-”
He’s cut off by the wind outside picking up, Eddie bristles, back straightening up reflectively. He looks at the red of the sky through the window.
His pupils are slits.
And then they’re not.
“Eddie?” Steve probes, stepping closer when Eddie seems to sag into himself.
“I’m fine- I’m fine.” Eddie rushes, holding a hand out to stop Steve from getting closer.
His hand is trembling.
The brown of his eyes are getting more pupil by the second.
“What happened?” Steve asks, watching as Eddie sucks in big breaths of air, eyes pinched shut tight. Like his control is about to snap.
“I don’t know.” It’s admitted with a strain in his voice, eyes opening just to pin the entirety of his focus on Steve.
He takes another step back as Steve steps closer. “It’s been what? Three days?”
Eddie nods, forcing himself to breathe through his mouth as Steve steps even closer. This time- he doesn’t step back.
“Did you know that if you don’t have any water for three days straight you could die?”
“What?”
Steve forces his voice to stay steady. “I think it’s the same with you. Just- blood.”
Eddie grimaces, a disgust directed at himself. “Steve-”
Steve shakes his head, ignoring Eddie’s noise of protest as he extends his hand to Eddie.
The room feels small. “They’re wrong, you know.”
Eddie stares at his open palm.
“There’s nothing wrong with you.”
He looks up to his eyes, searching.
Steve smiles at him. “Nothing.”
“I don’t want to hurt you.” Eddie caves.
“Then get on your knees.”
The sound of Eddie’s knee bones hitting the floor echoes around the walls of the church, rings like gospel as Eddie practically crawls to Steve’s feet. Steve sucks in a breath, a pit of warmth spreading in his abdomen as Eddie looks up at him with reverence, with patience. Waiting for direction.
“Hands behind your back.” It doesn't hold the same finality of his previous command, feeling lost where he stands. Eddie does so anyway, a mock echo of Dustin’s bedroom. “Don’t hurt yourself.” He says, voice stronger as he remembers the small cuts in Eddie’s wrists.
“Steve-”
“Eddie.” The grip on his wrists loosens, Steve smiles at him. “Good.”
It’s Eddie who sucks in a breath this time. He closes his eyes, opens them. Brown, still Eddie.
Steve takes a small step forward, the two of them now in the middle of the aisle between the rows of pews. It’s not his hand he gives, but his wrist. Eddie looks up at him, voice soft, absentminded, as he whispers “Steve.”
It holds no meaning, as though he just wanted to speak it and nothing more.
He leans in, hesitant and unsure in his movements. Like a stutter. He doesn’t bite when skin touches skin, Steve’s held in breath letting out in a soft puff of air as Eddie noses the center of his palm, staring up at Steve through his lashes. He twists his head, lips caressing over the connect of finger and palm. Steve feels weak where he stands, other hand coming out to grip Eddie’s shoulder.
Eddie smirks up at him like the asshole he is. He kisses Steve’s palm.
When Eddie moves up to his wrist Steve manages to grab ahold of some of Eddie’s hair, brushing through it and holding his neck, jaw, touching in a way he hopes matches in equal to the way Eddie is him.
It goes on for longer than Steve pictured it would, turning from comfort before the storm to caress for the mere pleasure of it. The flutter is back in Steve’s chest; Eddie’s eyes widen in recognition at the sound.
He opens his mouth then, right against the juncture of Steve’s thumb. He doesn’t bite down, just looks up at Steve as he breathes against his skin, canines glistening in the moonlight.
He’s waiting for Steve.
Steve presses up, pushes his own flesh against the bone until Eddie closes his mouth around it and the skin gives.
It doesn’t hurt.
Eddie shakes as the blood floods his mouth, sitting up so he isn’t resting on his ankles. Steve’s knees buckles as he drinks, pulling the red from his skin in an experimental sip. Eddie’s hand comes out to hold the back of Steve’s thigh, so he doesn’t fall.
Steve doesn’t get upset for it, doesn’t care that Eddie ignored one of his few commands. Steve has never been the type to enjoy giving commands anyways. Eddie drinks again, more assured of himself. Steve gasps, head tilting back as his body jerks forward, Eddie’s fingers gripping the meat just below his ass.
It all goes straight to his dick.
When Eddie licks at the open bleeding bite marks, a bloody crescent moon the shape of his teeth, Steve’s hips jerk forward desperately, an uncontrolled action that brings a whimper tumbling from his lips. Eddie’s hand on him flexes, pulls him closer.
Steve full on moans at the contact, hips rutting slowly against Eddie’s shoulder, rolling with tiny gasps like an animal in heat.
Eddie sinks his teeth in again, there’s a sharp pain for just a second as it breaks through new skin, healing skin, but then-
“Eddie-” Steve moans, hand on Eddie’s shoulder sliding down to grip at where wing meets back. Eddie groans at the touch, sucking in gulps now, a bit of blood dripping down his chin from where he gasps for air. “Fuck-”
Steve continues to fuck against him, small gasps and moans slipping from his lips as he holds on for dear life. It’s like a haze washed over him, every nerve in his body alive with pleasure.
Eddie’s hand lifts him slightly, making him go on his toes as he stumbles forward. A sort of growl comes from deep in Eddie’s chest as Steve moans, body now leaning over his shoulder to the point Eddie could probably carry him on it if he stood up.
And he does, Eddie standing to drop Steve’s weight onto a pew’s seat, crawling between his legs and putting a clawed hand against Steve’s lower stomach as he goes back to lightly lapping at the cuts, his other hand gripping Steve’s strong wrist like its porcelain.
Tiny pinched off moans escape from Steve as his body tries to jut up into the touch, the press of Eddie’s palm pressing against the very top of his erection. Steve’s hands scramble out to hold, to grip, to pull closer.
Eddie moves willingly, standing just to put a knee between Steve’s open thighs and lean over him as he licks down his palm to his wrist, nibbling slightly as he watches with reverence how Steve falls apart.
Upon the touch of Eddie’s knee against his cock Steve gasps, rolling his hips down to meet it without a thought in his mind. A keen on his lips.
His everything full of Eddie.
It goes on like that for a while, Eddie’s free hand coming down to lift Steve’s left thigh and hold him like he was before, now lifting Steve up onto his knee as though he weighs nothing. Steve moans low and wanton, eyes rolling back in his head as his forehead falls into the crook of Eddie’s neck.
He kisses it without thinking, and open-mouthed suck following, runs his teeth along the tendon.
Eddie whimpers slightly, his grip wavering.
With a newfound sense of control Steve bucks his hips down, his thigh brushing against Eddie’s own throbbing cock, his pants damp with precome. Eddie makes that same sort of growling noise again, bucking up uncontrollably to meet Steve’s thrusts.
Steve moans, head tilting back. There’s a mouth against his neck, his hand, still caught in Eddie’s strong grip, finds its way to intertwining fingers. To hold.
Eddie doesn’t bite, just breathes hot and heavy against his skin as he lifts Steve and drops him against his thigh again and again. His wings are spread to their full extent.
Steve blinks his eyes open, back arching as Eddie’s claws trail over skin. His sight focuses on the cross above the podium, at the way the red in the light makes it glow. Then he looks at Eddie’s wings, finds that it’s even more beautiful.
The mouth against his skin kisses slightly, a drag of lips down to the crook of his neck, Steve’s hips jerk down hard in response, feels as though he's scrambling for purchase.
If this is what worship is like then Steve understands the fanatics in their town, the way they rushed to this church every Sunday morning in their Sunday best.
His free hand tangles in Eddie’s hair, rubs at the scalp. Eddie’s tongue laps against the expanse of his neck in response.
This feels like worship.
He remembers briefly how the night that Eddie first returned to him he had prayed. It wasn’t god who had answered, no- it was Eddie.
The mouth on his neck moves away, ignoring Steve’s small groan of protest. He feels it return to his hand, two canines, not his whole top set like he had earlier, breaches skin.
Just to taste.
It is then that he feels the sharp of Eddie’s claws just barely piercing the skin right below his ass, and he comes with a bitten back shout.
His hips stutter against Eddie’s as he chases his orgasm, his hand in Eddie’s hair pulling him back to-
Steve stops, lets Eddie’s hair fall back as he untangles his hand.
Eddie is watching him, both breathing heavy.
He can’t kiss him. Not after-
Eddie’s expression is that of confusion, mouth open slightly, and eyebrows pinched down.
Steve smiles at him instead, a lopsided sort of thing. He feels light, like he isn’t fully here. Eddie makes a noise, both hands coming up to wrap around Steve’s back and pull him into an embrace. “I’m sorry.” He whispers like a whimper.
Steve feels his own softening cock damp and uncomfortable with the drying come in his pants, feels Eddie’s own come dampening his thigh through both of their jeans. “Don’t be.” He whispers into their hold, his chin on Eddie’s shoulder, his sight half blocked by wing.
“I hurt you.” It’s broken, wet in tone.
Steve turns to press his smile against the skin of Eddie’s neck so he knows it's there. “No, you didn’t.”
“But-”
“Eddie.” Steve cuts him off, starting to get fed up with his worry. In the most exasperated way, his heart warm in his chest. “Think of it like an exchange.”
A questioning noise, answered with the roll of Steve’s hips.
“Oh.”
Steve laughs slightly, Eddie joins in a second later. “Okay?”
He feels Eddie’s smile pressed against his temple, a mirror to his own. “Yeah- yeah, okay.”
Notes:
And so, a deal is born.
Chapter 9: Of One I would have Died to Save
Summary:
Steve looks at Eddie from where he’s scrunched up in the driver's seat. It’s surreal, he realizes, that this is the first time Steve has seen this version of Eddie ever asleep. He’s soft, in the strangest way. It’s the only way to describe the scene in front of him. Eddie, crunched in a way that is anything but comfortable in the backseat, Dustin curled against his side.
Notes:
Sorry guys, the curse got to me.
__Chapter title from: "On the Death of Anne Brontë" by Charlotte Brontë
Chapter Text
Hawkins Indiana, March 20th, 1978
Steve is warm.
Winter has come and gone, like the birthdays he spent utterly alone, like wooden spears flying from his grasp.
He has something else in it now.
They are in the woods, near asleep on one of Steve’s mother’s blankets. It's dark, the ground is still damp and dewy from the rain the day prior.
Steve plays with Eddie’s fingers as Eddie watches the stars through the tree's gap. He moves them around, stretches them, intertwines them with his own. Next to him Eddie is humming the tune to a song Steve doesn’t know.
He’s around a lot more these days.
After that first night Steve hadn’t seen Eddie for weeks, assumed he had gone back home down south. Steve had gone back to his own house, escaped to the woods whenever he had a chance.
Whether his parents were there or not.
The woods, though alone, felt like home.
He notices the walls of his house creak more when it’s quiet, the dark terrifying. He finds that his own room is that of nightmares now.
He likes when Eddie is here.
Eddie’s here a lot now.
His fingers trail around a new mark on Eddie’s pale skin, still red with rawness. A circle of a burn right on the center of his forearm. A cigarette mark.
Eddie glances down at Steve’s fingers, moves their hands so they are holding each other against the blanket.
Eddie has been here for a week now, with no sign of heading back south anytime soon.
It’s nice, Steve knows now, to have a friend.
So he’ll hold on as tight to him as he can.
“It’s late.” Eddie whispers, turning his head so he’s glancing down at Steve from where he’s curled on his side next to Eddie.
“Uncle Wayne?” Steve asks, twisting his neck so he’s looking up at Eddie and not at his hand. He circles one of Eddie’s nails with the pad of his index.
“Yeah, he should be getting back soon.” Eddie says, but makes no move to leave. Steve doesn’t either.
Wayne works most nights, Steve’s come to learn, having called one lonely night in those few weeks Eddie never came to the woods, where no one answered. Steve had left a voicemail that was more blabber than coherent thought, couldn’t even tell you what it said.
He’d never know if anyone had called back in the morning, because that was the day his parents came back. They left the day after.
“You can see it from here.” Eddie murmurs, looking back up through the trees.
“See what?” Steve looks up through the trees, trying to see anything other than stars and constellations he doesn’t know the name to.
Eddie pokes his side, causing him to squirm away with a laugh. “You.”
Steve twists onto his side, away from Eddie’s temptation. “That makes no sense.”
“Oh- but you see Stevie, it does.” Eddie grins, sitting up with a stretch. Preteen lank and wire causing his shoulder bones to roll in a way that would seem monstrous on paper, but only seems like home to Steve.
Steve rolls his eyes with a sigh, letting go of his curiosity for just a second so he can sit up as well. He crosses his legs, loose pants bunching at his knees, his shirt twisted under his armpits and around his ribs. He leans forward, stretching in his own way, bonks his forehead against Eddie’s shoulder before pulling back with a smile.
Eddie smiles at him, eye to eye with the way they are now the same height. Though Steve swears he’s slightly taller now. Eddie would rather die than admit it.
“What’s me?”
Eddie’s smile softens a bit, his foot coming out to tap against Steve’s leg. “The stars, Stevie. The stars.”
Steve tries his best to ignore Robin’s eyes on his hand as he takes the car out of park. Tries to ignore the way she is staring at him from the passenger seat, not even hiding it with the way her body is twisted towards his, one hand on the back of her seat and the other on the dash.
She moves like a fishing bobber as he drives over a rock on the road, back and forth in a way that doesn’t affect her at all. It’s deeply unsettling in a way only she could accomplish. He wettens his bottom lip, straining his eyes wide and uncomfortable as he forces himself to keep from looking at her.
She leans closer to him, makes her I know what you did face.
Like he said, unsettling.
He breathes out through puffed lips, slow and agonizing, it actually kind of hurts. Hurts in that strange way where your lungs try to squeeze out air that’s not there. She squints at him, glances up to his neck, to his face, back down to his hand.
She sits back in her seat.
Steve’s not dumb enough to assume he’s off the hook.
They go over another bump.
He doesn’t dare look at her.
“So,” Dustin starts, tapping his palms on his knees. The tension in the car can be cut by a knife. “I finished the first page of that map I was talking about yesterday.”
“The-” Steve clears his throat when the word comes out strained. “-one with the uh- democracks?” He says with the wave of his hand, trying not to make a face at Dustin’s new name for the chasms that line the streets of their town.
“No, my map of bathrooms in Hawkins- of course I meant my democrack map.” He sasses back, Steve rolls his eyes with a sigh. There’s a crinkling of paper taped together, the rustle of a carefully preserved piece.
“Oh shit.” Eddie mumbles, looking over Dustin’s shoulder.
The map is… very impressive actually. Dustin’s usual doodles have made for an interesting cartographer skill set, the trees, the streets, the cracks. It’s easy to understand.
“Have you ever tried mapping out for D&D?” Eddie finds himself asking, keeping his claws away from the paper as he leans down to look at the finer details.
“I did for Mike a few times, but he changed stuff up so much every campaign that it was hard to keep up with.” Eddie makes a face of understanding, having witnessed first hand Mike’s lack of decision making when it came to character design.
“What do these mean?” Eddie asks, gesturing to the circles drawn in assumed random around the map.
Dustin bristles slightly. “Those are areas that have a lot of bodies. Hotspots for monster activity and shit.”
Eddie looks at the high-school, sees the entire area outlined in one large circle. His mouth pulls into a line. “It’s good.”
“It’s great.” Dustin corrects, handing the map to Robin so she can look over it. Steve glances at it when he can.
Hawkins Indiana, April 3rd, 1979
“I feel stupid.” Steve complains, cheeks flushed as Eddie finishes the final touches on his handmade costume. Steve is dressed up like a knight- a paladin as Eddie has continuously corrected him. The sleeves bunch around his hands, one of Wayne’s shirts. The makeshift cardboard sword in his hand is already bending with his stressed fidgeting grip.
“You don’t look it.” Eddie grins, sewing needle being held between his lips muffling his speech.
Steve sighs, sagging his shoulders with annoyance. “Eds.”
He makes an mhm noise, tying off the thread onto the needle. Steve sighs again, louder, as Eddie starts sewing the shirt on Steve’s shoulders to match his design shape.
“Please tell me this is not one of his good shirts.” It’s whiny, makes Eddie look up at him with a humorous smirk. He wants to push Eddie’s face away, too close. There isn’t really a too close with them anymore, though. He has nothing to blame the action on. Their friendship formed outside any other eyes but theirs. It’s their own. Like the woods, it's special.
Steve knows boys don’t hold each other in the way they do.
He also knows boys are not supposed to feel the way he does when they do so. A flutter in his stomach, a buzzing beneath his skin. When he’s with Eddie he feels like he can move mountains.
It’s terrifying.
He turns his head away so Eddie doesn’t see the color to his cheeks, close enough to see the pores. He huffs when he feels the meat of his jaw being poked, rolling his eyes and hoping Eddie takes the sudden flush to be frustration.
“He just threw this one out, it got really ripped up because one of the stray dogs got to it when we were out tossing a ball around.”
Steve nods, jumping slightly when the needle lightly pokes his side, Eddie whispering an apology. It's warm with the late spring air, Eddie’s hand, Eddie’s mouth.
Steve has been thinking a lot about Eddie’s mouth lately. Has been looking at it far more than he should.
He glances down at it now, at the way it’s bitten between teeth in concentration.
That something flutters in his stomach again.
“Is he okay?”
“What? Oh- yeah he’s fine.” Eddie cuts the string, finished. “He had a shirt on underneath it so he just took it off and left it on the rocks where Sparky found it.”
Steve bonks the end of his sword against Eddie’s knee when he turns away to put the needle up. Eddie snorts, swatting it away.
Steve can’t help the grin that finds its way onto his face when Eddie situates the cardboard crown onto his own head, curls bunching around it in a way that makes him push them behind his ears with a cringe. Eddie picks up his own sword, swinging it around with a faux whooshing sound from his own lips.
“Where’s your cloak?” Steve asks, feigning innocence in his tone.
“Oh crap-” Eddie twists, digging around the bag they carried out here.
As he bends over Steve takes his sword and whacks it against Eddie’s upper back, jumping back with a laugh as Eddie jerks around with a loud gasp, hand holding his side like he’s been fatally wounded.
“You!” Eddie calls, pointing a pretend shaky finger at Steve who has his sword raised and ready. “Will pay!”
Steve jumps out of the way of Eddie’s sword with a gleeful smile, counter striking it in a way that keeps them both from breaking.
They dance around each other like that, swinging and blocking like two birds in flight. Laughter like a song. Movements like a duet.
It’s Steve’s sword who breaks first, bends to the side into a useless flop. He groans in annoyance when it does so, looking at it a second too long and feeling the end of Eddie’s own poking at the meat of his stomach. Steve looks down at the cardboard in Eddie’s hand, shoulders slumping as he frowns.
“I win.” Eddie singsongs, tongue poking out between the newest gap in his teeth.
Steve looks back up at him, frown turning exasperated. “Just do it.” He huffs.
“Oh come on Stevie, it’s not like I'm killing you.” Eddie jokes, teases really.
Steve rolls his eyes so hard he hears his one singular nanny he had when he was seven telling him they’ll get stuck if he keeps doing it. “Fine.” He sighs, spreading out his arms. “Take the final act, King Eddie.”
Eddie grins, bowing slightly and flourishing the sword like a flower. “You will be missed my Paladin, I’m sorry that it had to come to this, but traitors must die.”
Steve closes his eyes.
The cardboard brushes against his ribs, and with a fake cry he falls to his knees.
Eddie pats his head and Steve struggles to push down his snort. “Want to read my new comic now?”
“God yes.”
Steve looks at Eddie from where he’s scrunched up in the driver's seat. It’s surreal, he realizes, that this is the first time Steve has seen this version of Eddie ever asleep. He’s soft, in the strangest way. It’s the only way to describe the scene in front of him. Eddie, crunched in a way that is anything but comfortable in the backseat, Dustin curled against his side.
Steve can’t sleep, the constant urge to stay up and watch. Even with the security blanket that is Eddie- safety is not a feeling freely given.
The moon is new tonight, Steve notices as he looks past Eddie’s head of curls and through the glass. The lack of stars is jarring even now. It’s so dark, it’s so… empty. The sky is just red, not a single constellation, not a single reflection of light. Just the smallest hue from the glow of the empty. It glistens off of Eddie’s pale skin.
Steve smiles slightly- softly. He can’t help it. Eddie is soft, it makes him soft too.
His finger traces the skin of his scar, his new one. The shape of Eddie’s teeth. He traces the small gap that never closed with age, tongue running over his own teeth where it would be.
They haven’t talked about it- couldn’t. Dustin and Robin are always right there. For some reason he doesn’t feel the need to talk it over. It’s new, but- is it? Really? They always did impossible things for each other, always created their own world. Even with the gap, the overwhelming missing chunk of their friendship. A wound that is still bleeding, a gaping hole in his side. Even then, Steve would have done anything.
He was just scared.
He regrets it, being scared.
It eats him alive.
The moon is new, but not this. This is just different. It’s not a sacrifice, his blood. It is a repentance.
Steve turns his eyes away, up at the empty sky.
There is still so much he needs to repent for.
Sins that no apology could ever heal.
Eddie bled.
Now- it’s Steve.
There's a small groan from behind him, a shift of denim against fabric. He turns, strains his neck to look back at where it came from.
Eddie’s eyes shine in the dark. He smiles at Steve, like a friend. Like he did before.
Steve doesn’t deserve that.
“Hi, Stevie.” Eddie whispers, speaks his name like a secret.
The familiarity is drowning.
Steve smiles back regardless, twists in his seat so he isn’t hurting himself anymore. “Can’t sleep?” He asks, as if he wasn’t watching.
Eddie pauses, seems to take a second to think. His eyes search Steve’s face, a tilt to his head. “Are you okay?”
The way he says it, like a person trying to avoid the creaky floorboards when sneaking back inside, like a rabbit hiding from the fox, like Steve, nine years old and holding a pot out to his angry father, it makes something in Steve crack. Clay shattering on the floor. “Yeah.” He settles on. Doesn’t want to say fine, because he’s not. Eddie would know, he always knows.
A stare across the hallway as Nancy storms off, brown eyes meeting brown before Steve turns away.
“Really? Your breathing sounds-” Eddie makes a face, sleepy haze probably still clouding his mind.
“My breathing?’ Steve breathes, feels it consciously.
Eddie nods, reaches up to rub at his eyes. “And your heart a few times.”
“Oh.” There’s not even the sound of bugs to fill up the silence. “If I woke you-”
Eddie cuts him off. “You didn’t.” He teases, wiggling his eyebrows. “Bats are just really good listeners.”
Steve can’t help the huff of a laugh that escapes him. His head nudges the fabric of his seat. “Yeah?”
Eddie smiles- soft, like before, like now, like always- Steve assumes. He smiles and Steve feels it in his bones. “Yeah.”
Hawkins Indiana, July 5th, 1979
“I think I hate him.” Eddie whispers against Steve’s shoulder.
Steve frowns, back pressed against the bark of their favorite tree, large and old and protecting. His arm, wrapped around Eddie’s back, pulls him closer. “That’s okay.” Steve whispers back against his curls, nose pressed to the temple of Eddie’s skull. Their hands are intertwined, Steve runs his thumb over the scar on Eddie’s wrist. Eddie sags against him, a shaky sigh collapsing his lungs.
“I don’t-” He cuts himself off, chews on the inside of his cheek.
“You’re not your dad, Eds.” Steve insists, squeezes Eddie’s hand with his own. Eddie is quiet for a moment.
“Sometimes I’m scared I’m becoming him. I don’t want to be him. I’m not- I don’t want to be a killer.”
Eddie’s mother died long before Steve ever met him, her body bones by the time they spoke their first sentence in these woods. Still, she haunts the trees, a ghost leering over Eddie’s shoulders and a reminder of all he feels he’s destined to become.
An addict mother. A dealer father.
An overdose.
A boy alone with a monster.
It was Eddie who had found her body.
“You’re not.” Steve whispers, repeats it like a mantra. “You’re nothing like him.”
Eddie looks up at him, a weak smile on his lips. Hope. “You promise?”
Steve nods, holds him closer.
He promises. It’s not his to give.
It’s not his to break.
Steve's parents come back that night. He wasn’t there, slept in the woods, in the safety of the home he made out of bark and warmth. Eddie’s head on his chest as he looked up at the stars, lulled to a peaceful sleep to the sound of Eddie’s breathing. He didn’t know that they didn’t notice. He didn’t know that they left again before he opened his eyes.
He knew- when he came home. His mother had left two plates in the sink, had forgotten one of her many lipsticks on the kitchen counter.
He washes the dishes. He puts up the lipstick.
Like a well-oiled machine he doesn’t break.
He walks up the stairs to the room that he sleeps in. A room that’s not his. A bed that’s not his. A house that’s not his. The bed is still made, the way a boy alone might teach himself to do so. He discovered not so long ago that having his blankets and sheets all over the floor only leads him to lonely frozen nights.
He hates this room.
He hates the way that the wallpaper makes him dizzy if he looks at it too long. He hates the way that the thick curtains his mother picked out when this was just one of their many guest rooms collects dust and anger.
He hates the large window with a lock; he hates the way that even the curtains can’t hide the angry sun from his eyes when he’s sick and tired. He hates the fact that he has to measure his own medication, make his own chicken soup. He hates the fact that he’s always alone.
He doesn’t hate them.
He doesn’t know them well enough to choose to.
He wishes he had that choice.
Robin yelps slightly as she presses on the gas too hard by accident, hands flying out to grasp the dash around the wheel, foot slamming on the break. Steve’s grip on his seat had prevented him from breaking his nose again, a nervous laugh falling from his lips. “Was that any better?” She asks, an awkward smile pulling at her lips.
Steve looks at her. “Well, we almost died only twice that time, so I’d say yes.”
She sags with a sigh, forgetting to put it in park. They start to roll forward, having been on a hill.
Eddie stops the car with a hand, leaning against the top of and looking through Steve’s rolled down window. “You’re worse than I was, Buckley.”
“Fuck off.” She flushes, embarrassment on her cheeks.
Steve snorts, rolling out his shoulders to try and release the tension in them. “Any luck?” He asks, resting his elbow on the ledge made by the rolled down glass. Eddie smiles, reaching into the car to put on the break. His arm brushes Steve’s chest. He tries not to react. Fails apparently, Eddie giving him a knowing smile.
“Some, we might need your help. Dustin's hurting.” He explains with a shrug, looking over his shoulder at him. Dustin is sitting down on the ground next to the gasoline containers, rubbing his ankle with a grimace.
“Sure- yeah. Robbie, are you good here?”
“I’m getting out. I refuse to let the mystic powers of our universe make me roll into one of those cracks.” She says, unbuckling and holding her hands in the air as she steps out of the car.
“We are nowhere even near one.” Eddie points out, a teasing smile on his lips.
“My horrible luck overrides the laws of reality, Edward.” She points at him, an exaggerated action that leaves her standing weirdly. He raises his eyebrow at her, she sighs. “Ask Steve.”
Steve rolls his eyes, stretching his arms. Eddie looks at him expectantly, a quirk to his mouth. “Seriously?” He complains, groans. “Yeah- sure, terrible luck.”
“Wow Steve, way to act like you care about my luck.” She blinks her eyes at him, does a fake pout.
“It wasn’t even a real mirror. It was plastic.”
“A mirror is a mirror. A reflection is a reflection. I swear it’s like you've learned nothing from being my friend.”
Steve sighs loudly and she sticks her tongue out at him in response.
“Hey guys!” Dustin calls, an angry snap to his voice. “A little help here?!”
Robin crosses her arms and shoos Steve off with a finger. Eddie snorts at Steve’s dramatic gasp, grins at the lightness it carries. Steve jogs the rest of the way over to Dustin, picking up two of the containers with a wink that has Dustin instantly bitching again. Steve brushes by Eddie, skin like fire when it touches. Then it’s gone.
It feels like he took all Eddie’s air with him.
His lungs breathe with the beat of Steve’s heart.
He helps grab the rest of the containers, putting them alongside Steve’s in the trunk. It’s enough to last months. They smile at each other.
There’s a flutter in Steve’s chest.
Eddie’s expression softens at the sound.
Hawkins Indiana, January 6th, 1981
It’s winter again.
The leaves on the trees have all fallen-
Have all died.
The ground is covered in snow.
There is blood, frozen between dying trees.
A rot.
A betrayal.
There is a home that is gone.
Steve doesn’t go to the woods anymore.
The monsters just watch- Steve notices, bat next to him as he slowly drives the Dodge forward. Everyone’s breath is held, even Dustin’s constantly fidgeting hand isn’t adding new lines and circles to his map, now covered in the cracks.
They had decided to follow them to the center on the third day.
They are at the hospital.
Steve drives.
The dogs, usually spastic and feral, just sit there. Mouths closed and still.
The demogorgons are like statues.
The bats don’t fly.
They all just watch.
Even Eddie is unusually still, sitting next to Steve like marble. The air is freezing.
Steve feels the shudder of his jaw when he breathes out, sees it fog up the air in front of him. The sight feels like the only thing alive. The world has frozen, and left Steve forgotten.
Robin shifts uncomfortably behind him, the sound of dry skin against denim as she nervously rubs at her knees breathes sense back into Steve’s mind.
He shakes himself off, drives a little faster.
Eddie is still still.
Dustin’s curls bounce when he turns his head to watch the worst of the monsters disappear behind them, Dodge entering the oasis of the hospital.
Steve parks in front of the emergency marker, no ambulance needed anyways. He slides out first, bat at the ready. Then Robin. Then Dustin. Guns in hand, cocked and ready.
Steve looks back at Eddie, watches as he slowly comes back to himself.
Slits. Pupils. Brown.
There’s an anxiety pounding in Steve’s chest. Eddie looks at him, visibly letting go of a held breath as he gets the rest of himself under the last bits of his control.
Eddie gets out last.
The doors to the hospital are unlocked as they enter.
It’s quiet.
The halls are dark.
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E_D_osbourne on Chapter 1 Sat 01 Feb 2025 11:16PM UTC
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sceleris on Chapter 6 Sun 09 Mar 2025 07:13PM UTC
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E_D_osbourne on Chapter 7 Fri 04 Apr 2025 11:25PM UTC
Last Edited Fri 04 Apr 2025 11:25PM UTC
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sceleris on Chapter 8 Mon 28 Apr 2025 04:15PM UTC
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