Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Steve was not having a good time. 

Not only because of his recent encounter with Russian torture was undoubtedly going to become a reoccurring nightmare. 

No, Steve was not having a good time because he stupidly tripped on the rug while grabbing another beer and landed face first on the hardwood flooring. 

If his face wasn't bloody enough already, well-

Groaning, he drags himself over to the phone, squinting through his one good eye at the swirling numbers. The doctors had warned him to be careful, to not drink alcohol, to have someone around to monitor him. Everyone else in the party had a loved one to get back to. Someone to care about them when the nightmares got bad. Steve knew there was no one for him. To be fair, he knew he was being stupid with the booze but honestly, it was the small comfort he was granting himself after the last few days he’d endured. Well, look where that had gotten him.

The phone line rings. 

And rings. 

And rings. 

And, just as he's giving up hope, Hopper’s gruff grunt finally greets him. 

In Steve’s experience, Hopper was a man of few words. Usually, Steve shared this sentiment after another upside-down incident, but this time, he’d screwed up.

"Heeeey Hop, it's Steve. I need- fuck I don't know what I need. You told me to tell you if I injured myself again and I thiiiiink I just broke my face more?" 

He sniffles around the wet. 

Wet?

"Hey, Ah, Hop, I don't even really know why I called, but my face is wet. I really hope my eye isn't leaking out of my head. Can an eye leak out?"

He knew he shouldn’t have gone for that second beer, not only was he concussed for the third time in three years, but now his already affected balance was shot. The taste of copper reaches his tongue and, suddenly, it's everywhere. It overwhelms all his senses and without warning, he's back in the interrogation room, taking hit after hit. 

"Oh fuck. I think that’s blood. Oh fuck oh fuck oh fu-"

The thick metallic fills his mouth as he breathes in sharply. 

Bad idea. 

Droplets spatter the wall as Steve chokes and coughs. He knows he’ll have to clean it before they stain the wallpaper. His parents would be furious when they finally decide they have a son again.

Getting all the blood to the front of his mouth, Steve leans forward and forcefully spits the glob onto the floor. 

The lack of oxygen had brought him back to the bunker. Back to when he’d been beaten mercilessly for information he didn’t have. To the suffocating knowledge he could die, he could die, tied back-to-back with Robin, knowing no one except a few kids knew where they were.

But his arms aren't tied. 

He's not there. 

Robin is not there. 

They had gotten out.

"Hey Hopper? I don't think I'm okay. The Ambulance people were saying something about a broken eye socket? Could I- Robin would know, Robin knows everythi-. I just don't think I can drive to her place right now. Yanno, with the concussion and everything."

He gently places his forehead on the wall beside the receiver, though it did little to actually help the throbbing.

"My parents are out and I- I can't even go upstairs"

Steve couldn’t muster the effort to try going upstairs. He also knew that with his concussion as bad or maybe even worse than last year, going up and down would make him feel dizzy and at risk of falling. See? He wasn’t completely brainless Dustin!

He rubs his hand over his face.

Ow

"I just, I just don't know what to do."

Robin had tried to stay but Steve knew her family had been worried. Wary of him. His reputation never left him after school despite his efforts to change. He got it. 

For the first time in their whole conversation Hopper clears his voice to speak. 

"Son, I ah, I don't know what's happened to you but- I think you got the wrong number"

Steve froze. 

That was NOT Hopper. 

"Who the fuck? Why are you on Hopper’s phone? What-. Oh fuck oh fuck oh fu-"

The memory of Mrs Byers slowly shaking her head, already in tears as El fell into her arms came rushing back. 

How could he forget? How could- This isn't real. It can't be. 

But it is, it is real. How could he forget? His memory isn’t that shit is it? 

"No. No no no no no nononononononono-"

His breath shutters. Static began to fill his ears, completely overwhelming him.

Hopper is dead. 

Hopper is dead and Steve just let it happen. It should have been him. Hopper is- was so good. It can’t be real, but it is. His breath catches. And catches.

The voice on the other side tries to keep talking but it's all muffled, as if Steve is underwater.

Something is wrong. Everything is spinning and Steve can't breathe. 

He's going to die. 

He survived the upside-down shenanigans and now he’s going to die from the complications? He was an idiot. The doctors warned him! Someone should have stayed to make sure he didn’t die. But, would anyone actually care? He’d lived most of his life taking care of himself, good only to others for taking hits. This shouldn’t have been any different.

Dark pinpricks start encroaching on Steve's vision.

The voice is still talking. 

 He's going to die. 

He can’t breathe.

He's going to die. 

He can’t breathe.

He's going to die. 

He's going to die like Hopper. 

No one will care. No one-

The phone slips out of Steve's hand as he desperately claws at his hair. His knees buckle and the world goes dark. 

 ~~~

 The last thing Wayne Munson expected on his one night off was a drunk caller. 

Correction. 

The last thing he expected on his one night off was a very drunk Harrington boy calling him the chief of police. 

Wayne was no stranger to late night calls from his nephew to tell him of his whereabouts when he had smoked too much or gotten too drunk with his friends so Wayne wouldn’t worry. Hell, he wasn’t even a stranger to the odd prank caller hoping to antagonise his boy, but this call seemed utterly bizarre.

The vaguely familiar slurred voice on the other end of the line suddenly had his full attention.

“...You told me to tell you if I injured myself again and I thiiiiink I just broke my face more?". 

Something was definitely wrong with the Harrington boy.

Wayne knew the basics of this boys life. Eddie had certainly raved enough about King Steve’s downfall for Wayne to know that this kid had no one around.

 Wasn’t he working at that ice cream spot Eddie liked so much?

While Eddie shared his morals on the mall being the cause of downtown businesses having to close their doors, he, like so many others, couldn't resist the flashy newness it brought to the small town of Hawkins.

The tinny sound of Steve’s voice hadn’t stopped this whole time. His slurred voice getting more distraught as time passed.

"Hey Hopper? I don't think I'm okay. The Ambulance people were saying something about a broken eye socket? Could I-” The kid's voice broke through his thoughts.

Holy fuck. What did this kid just say?

How the fuck did this kid get a broken eye socket?

How the fuck had this kid managed to get in even more trouble?

Was the Hargrove kid involved again?

Eddie had said Harrington junior looked miserable after their last fight, From Eddie’s descriptions, the Harrington boy had had a nasty knock to the head.

Wayne felt slightly bad for the boy when Eddie gleefully told him about Harrington no longer sitting in the cafeteria, his apparent posse turning against him for good and the rumours that his then girlfriend had cheated on him with a fellow outcast as Eddie liked to call them.

While Wayne may have felt bad, a shorter Harrington reign may not have been a bad thing for Hawkins High. If Harrington junior was anything like Harrington senior, then maybe this was the youngsters' proverbial punch in the right direction.

But this?

This boy sounded nothing like what Wayne had been told.

This boy sounded traumatised and scared and, fuck, he’d called the wrong person.

Chief Hopper is a good man. Hell, he’s let Eddie off with just a warning more times than he can count even though he’s a legal adult now. If he had taken the Harrington boy under his wing, then surely the chiefs’ forgiving nature would steer this boy in the right direction.

But fuck. Wayne knew whatever this boy was spouting wasn’t for him.

Whatever had frightened this boy so badly, he clearly wasn’t the person this kid needed to be hearing this.

Finally, he cleared his voice.

"Son, I ah, I don't know what's happened to you but- I think you got the wrong number"

The voice on the line suddenly cut off.

Breathing took over for a couple of seconds then Harrington quietly said, "Who the fuck? Why are you on Hopper's phone? What-. Oh fuck oh fuck oh fu-"

The boy's breathing immediately became agitated, picking up in speed.

Wayne gripped the phone harder.

Fuck, did he mess up? He couldn’t just let this kid ramble to the wrong person indefinitely but he got the distinct feeling he’d messed up somehow in revealing he wasn’t the right person on the line.

A sharp inhale came from the phone.

"No. No no no no no nononononononono-" the voice moaned in agony.

Shit.

If he hadn’t already, this kid was now rocketing into a full-blown panic attack.

Wayne needed to speak. He needed to calm this boy down.

“Harrington, Harrington! You need to calm your breathing. Can you do that?”

Harrington couldn’t hear him. He was already too far gone.

Fuck, Wayne felt hopeless. He needed the boy to concentrate on his voice, but he couldn’t even remember the kid's first name.

“Kid, please, you need to slow your breathing now,” Wayne tried again.

The kid's breathing was erratic. Wayne wished he was there to help. Fuck, he needed to call Hopper, but he couldn’t hang up on the kid.

Just as Wayne was about to try coaxing the kid again a horrid series of thumps were made clear through the receiver.

“Harrington, Harrington! Can you hear me?”

Wayne could no longer hear the kid breathing into the phone.

Had he dropped it?

Did the kid fall?

Harrington was clearly not okay. Even worse than before.

Wayne needed to call Hopper, he needed to call someone who could go check on this boy.

Wayne hurriedly hung up, the urgency now calling for him to get off this line.

Hopper’s phone rang.

And rang.

And rang.

And rang.

Eventually turning over to the chief’s voice mail.

Was he not in?

He dialled the police station next and was left with the same non-response.

Fuck, where was everyone?

The jingling of keys caught Wayne off guard.

What time was it?

His nephew casually swung the door open.

“Hey Wayne, band practice was awesome! I got this new riff that I was playing around with perfect while we were practicing and now that song is being added to our next set at the Hideout. Our next gig is going to be epic!” His nephew gently places his amp and guitar down in the entryway and then unceremoniously tosses his battle vest over the couch.

“If I knew any better, I’d invite you to come but we both know that’s not going to happen, is it old man,” Eddie finally turned to face him properly, dimples giving way to a mischievous grin.

Wayne would normally entertain his nephew with a few quips back and forth but with Harrington's ragged breathing freshly burned into his mind and his inability to get even a semblance of help from more qualified personnel, Wayne can do nothing more than stare at the arrival of his nephew.

Eddie’s grin slowly morphs into a look of confusion as the silence lingers.

“What’s wrong Wayne?” Eddie slowly approaches his uncle and takes the phone out of his hand.

Wayne jolts.

His nephew.

His nephew who went to school with the Harrington boy. His nephew who has attended multiple house parties to deal. His nephew who has probably at some point dealt at Harrington house parties.

His nephew who is now undoubtedly looking at him with concern.

“Do you know where the Harrington boy lives?” He blurts at Eddie.

Eddie’s frown deepens. “I mean, I’ve been there a few times for business you know, though that doesn't happen as much with him being the fallen king and all. I’m a bit sad at that you know, Harrington parties were one of my best sellers, and with so many of the popular kids around it wasn’t hard to pick up gossip from them. It was always fun when they’d reveal something I could use to improve business. You know one time Hagan-”

“Eddie,” Wayne said, cutting him off. “What’s his address?”

Eddie frowns, “I mean- I don’t actually know his address, I just know where it is. Wayne, what is this about?”

Wayne ignores his question, instead, grabs and quickly pulls on his boots from beside the door.

“Could you direct me there? It’s urgent Eddie, we need to go. Right now. I’ll tell you what I know on the way. I’ll drive.”

~~~

Wayne’s urgency is something fairly unfamiliar to Eddie.

Sure, his uncle had had his moments when Eddie had come home from a scrap with the jocks or when he was caught by Chief Hopper.

He’s still mad at the time his car had decided to stop working after a Loch Nora party and someone had called the cops on him. On the other hand, at least all Eddie had on him that night was three joints from his own personal stash.

His uncles rush right now though?

Highly unusual. Wayne was usually the epitome of a laid back attitude, his gruff voice and blunt personality making him easy for Eddie to read.

Jesus H Christ, what was going on? And why did they need to head to Harrington’s house?

They drove quickly, Eddie barking out directions as Wayne drove way above the speed limit.

They flew through the suburbs of Hawkins with a frightening haphazard nature that Eddie had never seen within his uncle.

Eddie had some people to apologise to. While he knew he drove like a madman most of the time, his uncle’s abnormally erratic driving had him bracing for impact.

In a truly impressive feat, they finally came to a screeching halt in front of Steve Harrington’s house without any new dents or scratches to the van.

Eddie was no stranger to this house. However, the typical thrumming music and drunken teenagers were nowhere to be seen.

This house looked eerie.

Eddie couldn’t suppress a shiver that ran down his spine at the emptiness it portrayed.

“Come on” said Wayne, hauling himself out of the van.

Eddie quickly caught up just as Wayne began to bang on the door.

“Harrington, open the door. Are you alright?” Wayne shouted.

Unsurprisingly there wasn’t an answer. From what Wayne had briefly told him, Harrington had been unresponsive.

As Wayne continued pounding on the door, Eddie made his way to the kitchen window, which was seemingly the only light on in the mansion.

The kitchen appeared spotless.

There were no mugs in the sink or even plates drying. There weren’t even any water stains. The kitchen's pristine nature gave the impression that no one lived here.

If this is how the rich lived, Eddie didn’t want it.

Eddie rolled his eyes and began to turn away when something caught his eye.

At the entrance of the kitchen, just in view, was somebody's sock covered foot. 

Jesus H. Christ.

“Waaaayne. You might want to see this” Eddie exclaimed, beckoning him over wildly.

Wayne peered in, finally relenting on the poor door.

“Fuck” Wayne sighed. “Alright, is there any way to get in?”

Scouring the Harrington home for some way to breach it absolutely felt like a violation to Eddie. Logically he knew they needed to get in to help but he couldn’t help feeling like an intruder, there for nefarious deeds.

As uncle and nephew met back up the last door to try was the sliding back door, it slid open without resistance.

They met eyes briefly before Wayne darted into the house, Eddie at his heels.

The living room looked lived in compared to the other rooms they passed through. A couple beer bottles lay empty on the coffee table and there were blankets that had clearly been used recently.

What stood out though, was the small heap of bloody bandages and tissues.

Jesus H. Christ.

Eddie robotically turned to his uncle who had gone pale at the sight of blood drops that led to the other side of the room.

There in a heap, laid a very bloody and very bruised Steve Harrington.

“Jesus H. Christ!” Eddie screamed, spurring his uncle into action.

Wayne dashed to Harrington’s side.

“Boy. Boy! Can you hear me?” said while checking his pulse.

Harrington twitched, but besides that he gave little indication he’d actually heard Wayne.

Eddie slowly made his way over to where Wayne was attempting to sit Harrington upright. Harrington’s work uniform which Eddie has enjoyed mocking with the boys and secretly envisioning in his fantasies was a mess. Torn and bloody Eddie was half surprised it hadn’t magically fallen off him.

“I’ll go grab something to wipe his face.” Eddie says, scrambling to the still illuminated kitchen.

He grabs a tea towel at random, gaudy embroidered flowers on the ends sit starkly against the otherwise pristine white. Running it under the sink, he darts back to where his uncle has finally propped Harrington up.

“I’m just going to see if the Harringtons have a medical kit,” said Wayne, leaving the unconscious boy for Eddie to deal with.

If Eddie thought last year’s beating Hargrove delivered was brutal, it had nothing on this one.

Harrington’s normally pretty face was marred with a multitude of cuts and bruises with the worst being his left eye and what appeared to be a broken nose, if the newly forming bruises meant anything.

Eddie began dabbing his face, trying to get the worst of the congealing blood off. He knew that if Steve was awake this would hurt like a mother fucker.

Once his face was sufficiently clean Eddie moved onto his hands.

He methodically cleaned, not letting his brain linger on how the calluses on Steve’s hands made them slightly rough.

As he was about to finish, strong fingers gripped his hand causing Eddie to yelp in surprise.

“That’s my mum’s favourite tea towel.” Steve slurred.

He clearly wasn’t fully aware of his situation.

“What?” Eddie said in astonishment, too shocked to utter more.

“I’ll have to wash it now.” Steve whined, sounding like a petulant child. “Why’d you have to do that man.”

“Steve, do you know where you are? What’s happened to you?” Eddie asked, lightly patting Steve’s bruised knuckles in a reassuring manner.

“Russians.” Steve said matter of factly. His eyes met Eddies and held his gaze. Almost daring Eddie to disagree with him.

Yep, thought Eddie, Steve very clearly wasn’t fully aware of his surroundings.

Luckily the eye contact was broken by Steve as Wayne appeared through the doorway carrying a massive med kit.

“Found this in an upstairs cupboard, seems well stocked” Wayne mused.

Harrington snorted. “I sure hope it does, I restocked it just last week.”

Wayne’s face twitched in a way that Eddie knew that he wanted to ask what Steve meant. Eddie was almost inclined to agree but they clearly had bigger problems, such as Harrington’s possibly serious head injuries.

“Okay Harrington. It’s clear you banged your head. Can you tell me your full name?”

Steve frowned at Eddie, slightly wincing when he agitated his bad eye, yet he complied.

 “Stephen Richard Harrington.”

A snort came from Wayne’s direction causing Eddie and Steve to glance towards him.

Wayne’s head stayed down, still looking through the med kit, pulling out everything he thought necessary.

“He gave you his name? I’m sorry son but it doesn’t surprise me at all with how Dick is.”

Harrington sighed. “Yeah, it doesn’t surprise me either. He’s not exactly a likable man. Power and success don’t mix with being a good dad apparently.”

Wayne’s head snapped up. “Did he do this to you son? I know your daddy has all the higher ups of Hawkins on his side, but I swear to God if he actively prevented ambulance and police from being reachable tonight I-”

It was Steve’s turn to snort.

A smile that looked more like a grimace appeared on his face.

“Nah, they are probably all still at Starcourt. I wouldn’t be surprised if they’re still trying to clean up that mess.” said Steve, practically spitting the word mess out as if it had personally offended him.

Stunned, Eddie looked to Wayne only to be greeted with an equally baffled look.

Starcourt?

“Wait, what are you talking about Harrington? What happened to Starcourt?” Wayne demanded.

“It burned down. Over a dozen people are dead and I couldn’t stop any of it.” Steve said in a detached voice.

Eddie stared, completely bewildered at what had just come out of Harringtons’ mouth. Starcourt was gone? He had just been there a few days ago to get new strings for his sweetheart and the idea that it was suddenly gone couldn’t be comprehended in Eddie’s brain.

“Couldn’t prevent it? What do you mean by that Harrington, you’re talking as if you were there.” Wayne’s voice cut through Eddie's thoughts.

Steve’s hands attempted to curl into fists, squeezing Eddie’s from where he had loosely been holding before. Eddie winced, his left hand taking the brunt of the pain as Steve restricted his blood flow.  

 “That’s because I was.” Steve says, hand squeezing incredibly tighter.  

Unable to stand it anymore, the biting pain finally causes Eddie to yelp. As quickly as it had started, Steve’s hand releases Eddie. He mourns the lack of Harrington's warmth immediately even if the sudden release produces the necessary blood back into his fingers.

Steve shudders. “So many people are dead and I couldn’t save them even though I was right there. Not Heather, Not Billy not, not-” His breath shudders. “Not even Hop. I was right there and did nothing.”  

Uncaring of his injuries Steve rakes his hands up his face, slowly making his way to his hair, fisting clumps in a desperate motion of control. His legs curl up, slowly bringing him into a foetal position.

Hopper... was dead?

He couldn’t describe the look on Wayne’s face. A mixture of shock and disbelief that Eddie no doubt shared. The chief hadn’t exactly been Eddie’s biggest fan, but he was kind. He understood why Eddie was dealing and instead of shutting him down like he should have, he let Eddie off with countless warnings. Countless warnings that Eddie didn’t know to appreciate at the time, that he’d never hear again. No. The chief couldn’t be dead. He- he just couldn’t.

A wheezing cough brought Eddie back out of his head and back to Harrington who had somehow managed to make himself look smaller despite being a fairly muscular guy. His breathing began to rapidly increase, coming out in short uneven puffs, a high-pitched whine escaping his mouth as he continued to grip and pull his hair.

Desperate for Harrington to stop hurting himself, Eddie attempted to pry Harrington's fingers out of his hair to no avail. Only eliciting another drawn out whine from Harrington when touched.

Eddie should have known better than to touch Harrington without warning.

This may have been his first time seeing a panic attack, but he’d gone through a dozen before and knew how terrifying they could be. He desperately looked over at Wayne, but he’d remained stupefied at the news. Eddie did the only thing he could think of.

“Harrington, I need you to breathe with me.” Steve made no attempt to move, breathing getting more laboured as time progressed. “Harrington, you’re having a panic attack. You’re okay, you’re safe. Can you loosen your grip on your hair?” Despite beginning to panic himself, Eddie knew he needed to keep a level voice and talk to Harrington in a soothing manner.

After a few seconds Steve’s eyes darted to him, slowly releasing his grip slightly. “That’s good. You’re doing so good. Can I have your hand Steve?” Eddie held eye contact with the clearly terrified boy, willing his face to convey a pleasant and non-threatening expression. Steve slowly extended his hand towards Eddie’s, placing his trembling fingers onto Eddie’s outstretched palm. “You’re doing so good Steve. I’m going to place your hand on my chest and we’re going to breathe together.”

Telegraphing his moves he slowly splays Steve’s hand over his own heart. “Alright Stevie, breathe in for four and hold it. Good. And again.”

They continued this cycle until Steve’s breathing became more stable.

Chapter Text

Steve was confused.

One moment he felt like he was dying and the next he was pressed against non-other than the king of freaks, Eddie Munson.

His body wasn’t cooperating, feeling like he’d just run a very draining marathon. All he wanted to do was sleep for several days, yet he somehow knew that Munson and the older man in front of him wouldn’t let him.

He wanted to call Robin and Dustin, just to hear their voices and know that they were safe.

He knew he couldn’t.

They needed sleep, to at least for a little bit forget that they could have died tonight. Would have died tonight if the others hadn’t’ve turned up.

He'd eventually have to fill Robin in completely, but he’d wait a few days to spare her from the countless nightmares she would undoubtedly be facing from now on. Just like the rest of them. He wishes he hadn’t dragged her into this. He wishes he could turn back time and shield her from the unending horrors. And... Oh god Max.  

He had hated Billy but understood the complicated feelings that surrounded losing a loved one. Well, in his case his parents weren’t dead. Just never around. He hadn’t seen his parents in months, and he’d been pretty independent since he was twelve when they’d first started leaving him alone without a babysitter. Did that count? Maybe he couldn’t understand after all. At least Max had El around. The girls would no doubt be joined at the hip since they both lost a loved one.

Steve had no right to feel like he’d lost someone. Hop may have been the only person to come close to caring about Steve over the years, but they weren’t even related.

He desperately wanted a hug, but he knew that wasn’t allowed. He wasn’t allowed to be the weak one. He just couldn’t. The memories of his mother slapping his hand away as a child were always a reminder that Steve didn’t deserve affection. Didn’t deserve love. He was bullshit and only good for a quick fuck.

His skin prickled at the grip Munson still had on his hand. Warmth radiating from where their bodies connected. When was the last time someone had held his hand so carefully in theirs? He wanted to squeeze it. To hold on and never let go.

“Are you back with us Harrington?” Eddie said, meeting his eyes.

Steve’s mouth feels dry. If his dad could see him now, he’d be dead.

“Yeah, ah, I need a drink of water but I’m good man.” His eyes dart between the two men. Hopefully they weren’t here to lecture him. He was sure he’d already get a lecture from his parents when they find out he lost his job. Not that he had any choice in it when Starcourt was still a burning wreckage. “So, why are you two here? I wasn’t exactly expecting visitors” he says, gesturing loosely to his unkempt living room and outfit.

He felt filthy. A layer of sweat, ash and blood undoubtedly clinging to him. How did he look right now? Clearly enough of a charity case that Munson who had outwardly hated him was helping him. Holding him. He really needed a shower, yet his body felt unwilling to move.

“Wayne heard you fall. He was worried because he couldn’t get a hold of the authorities, so we decided to do a wellness check.” While Eddie had been speaking, he’d lowered Steve’s hand from his chest and had begun playing with his fingers absentmindedly. Steve didn’t hate it. In fact, he liked that Eddie hadn’t let go, the contact sending little zings up his arm every so often.

Eddie was still talking, “And seeing you through the kitchen window scared the shit out of me. We’re super lucky the back door was open otherwise Wayne definitely would have broken one of your windows.”

Steve opened his mouth to reply but was cut off by a cool glass being pressed into the hand not being held by Munson.

He startled, not expecting -who he now suspected to be Wayne- to be so close to him.

“Your water.” Said Wayne in a gruff yet kind voice. Steve nodded his thanks and downed the glass.

Wayne settled next to the first aid kit and resumed inspecting the contents, eventually pulling out the antibacterial cream and several different types of band-aids.

Wayne looked at him, silently asking for his permission to start, Steve gave a huff but nodded his agreement.

It stung of course, making Steve’s eyes well up but Wayne was clearly trying to be gentle. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had someone help him with his injuries. He had the vague feeling Hop had tried, but Steve had been too stubborn to let him.

The gnawing emptiness was back. Steve felt helpless to stop the feeling that he could have been better. Could have been faster, stronger. Could have died instead of sending Hopper down into the Russian bunker. Yet he did none of that. Sure, he fought the mind flayer, but did he really make a difference being there? Steve was meant to be the shield, his job was to protect, and he couldn’t- didn’t do that for Hopper.

What good was he?

“Steve?” Eddie said cautiously.

He had unconsciously started to grip Eddie’s hand tighter.

He clears his throat. “I’m okay. Sorry about that.” Wayne had finished with his face and had begun to neatly repack the first aid kit.  “If you guys want to leave now, I think I should be good.”

He of course knew that once they were gone, he’d just be stuck alone in his mausoleum of a house till morning, till someone bothered to call or come over, yet he couldn’t bear asking them to stay any longer.

It was Eddie’s turn to clear his throat, “I don’t think you should be alone tonight, Steve.” Before Steve can get a word in, Eddie continues, “You’ve just had two pretty major panic attacks, and no one is here to take care of your injuries. I know you probably don’t trust us but I- we can’t let you be alone tonight.”

Steve is gobsmacked. Eddie is right. He doesn’t know or truly trust these men but for some reason they seem to care, at least a little bit, about his wellbeing.

“What do you suggest then,” he says in a voice more vulnerable than he intended.

Eddie shifts nervously, refusing to meet his eyes. He subconsciously continues to play with Steve’s hand, kneading the tension out of his joints. While not unpleasant, the soft and gentle contact almost had tears stinging his eyes again.

He took a breath, trying to maintain the impassive face he’d been carefully built during this whole ordeal.  

Eddie squeezes his hand briefly as if gathering the courage to speak. “You could ah- stay at ours? It’s not big but it works and ah- you know, at least we’d be able to keep more of an eye on you. It only had one bed as Wayne sleeps on the pullout... But only if you want to, we could call someone else if you want and just stick around till they get here if the idea of bunking with me makes you too uncomfortable,” he rambles.

Everyone close to Steve is either dead or in this mess with him. He’d feel bad to disturb them with such a minor inconvenience.

“I’m fine, really, you guys can go,” he says. He doesn’t want to be alone but knows Harringtons aren’t meant to be weak. He’d be taught a lesson if the neighbour snitched about any of this.

Eddie shakes his head, “I can’t let you stay here alone, man, Wayne and I wouldn’t be able to sleep knowing we’d left you behind here alone while looking like you’re on deaths door. Do us a favour and come with us.”

Irritation begins to bubble in Steve. “Why are you pushing so hard man,” he grumbles, finally breaking his impassive façade.

Eddie doesn’t respond straight away, instead carefully flicking his eyes between Steve’s.

“Please” is all he says.

Letting out a long sigh Steve’s resolve crumbles. “I’m not getting out of this am I,” he says exasperatedly.

Eddie gives him a wide toothy, dimpled smile. “Nope,” he says as he carefully begins helping both of them off the ground.

~~~

Eddie knew their trailer wasn’t much to look at, yet Steve seemed fascinated as soon as he stepped through the door.

Was he stupid to force Steve here? Maybe, but seeing the golden boy of Hawkins that shaken up had unnerved him. Wayne’s nervous hovering throughout Harrington and his floor conversation had been a solid indication he felt the same way.

In hindsight he was sure that they could have just bunked at Steve’s for the night, but something felt wrong with that house. Without all the noise of drunk teenagers and deafening music, it felt hollow for some reason. Like no one should encroach on it. As much as Eddie supposedly hated Harrington, it wasn’t right for them to stay. So, to the trailer they went.

Turning around he quickly kicked his boots off, padding further into the trailer. He could feel Harrington following closely behind him like a little duckling.

“It’s not much I know but it’s home,” Eddie says, swinging round to face Steve.

Harrington clearly didn’t expect this as he stumbles backwards, only to be caught loosely by Eddie by the forearm.

Tugging slightly, Eddie guides Steve down the hall to his room. As he shoves his bedroom door open, he drops into a wide sweeping bow, almost hitting Steve’s face in the process. “Welcome to my humble abode my liege,” he says grinning up at Steve.

Harrington blinked in obvious shock. He clearly still wasn’t used to Eddie’s antics as his stupidly kissable mouth had gone slack as he observed Eddie being a dork. And yes, he would fully admit it. With Harrington in his space, he felt slightly awkward. But who could blame him! Despite the injuries and roughed up look Steve Harrington was still drop dead gorgeous.  

While Eddie was stuck in fantasy land, Steve had turned and was now looking towards the open room of the bathroom with a contemplative face. He glances at Eddie and back at the bathroom. Finally, he licks his lips and blurts out “can I have a shower.”

Ah fuck, of course he’d want a shower. Yes, his dishevelled look was growing on Eddie but there’s no doubt he felt gross by now. How could Eddie have forgotten about that?

Clearly Harrington took his silence as something else as he blurts, “I don’t want to get your sheets dirty man, and I haven’t showered since Starcourt. Oh god, it would have been more than that actually. Ah shit, I didn’t bring clothes. Or-or shower stuff. I don’t have anything to wear, and I absolutely do not want to put this back on.  Is there any way I can borrow something? Just for the night. I’ll be out of your hair tomorrow I- I promise.”

Eddie’s eyes widen in surprise. He’s never heard Harrington word vomit in this manner before and overall, it somehow makes him seem more human. More like a regular guy and not the untouchable king Eddie had known in school. More like- more like one of his lost sheep that need to be cared for, he thinks dizzyingly.

 Steve shuffled uncomfortably with Eddie’s gaze still on him. He has to snap out of it. He has to do something to make Harrington not think about leaving right now. All he can think of to do is scramble into his room to find the softest clothes he has and chuck them at Harrington.

 They both stare at the clothes as they land on and around Steve.

Slowly their eyes meet. Feeling extremely embarrassed under Harrington’s gaze he fidgets with his rings.

And then a horrifying thought dawns on him. Steve, passed out in the bath unable to get help and dying a horrible death in his trailer.

“So um, I don’t think you should go in alone with all your injuries. There may be more we don’t know about, and we wouldn’t want you to trip and fall while you’re in there alone- I’ll go in with you.”

He doesn’t give Harrington the chance to respond, instead turning on his heels to make sure Harrington couldn’t see the furious blush that was making its way up Eddie’s cheeks. Oh god, they were about to shower together. At his insistence! 

“Come on pretty boy, let’s get you cleaned up,” he says, scooping the clothes off the ground and pushing his way to the bathroom.

~~~

Steve had no idea how two grown men were going to fit in a shower, yet he was surprisingly grateful that Eddie had railroaded his potential protests.

Eddie was weird but seemed absolutely harmless. Nothing like what his old friends would sneer at him across the hall. Instead, the man seemed to be like an excitable puppy who hadn't grown into their limbs.

Yet when he held onto Steve, it made him feel precious. Like it mattered whether he slipped in the tub and brained himself.

He supposes he should feel awkward about getting undressed with Eddie as, despite it being a bathtub and shower combo, it was a rather narrow space. Years of undressing in locker rooms had desensitised him from getting embarrassed about taking his clothes off in front of people, apparently this couldn’t be said for Munson. As soon as Steve shucked his shirt off, Eddie went red. Making a strange wheezing noise he immediately turned towards the shower taps and began fiddling with them.  

A small flush makes its way up Eddie’s neck, making Steve have the sense to then become a little embarrassed. A blush appeared on his own cheeks as he realises the brazen way he had begun to strip. He clears his throat. “We could probably keep our underwear on if that makes things easier. I- ah, just may need to borrow some that aren’t, you know, wet after this?” He says rubbing his neck anxiously. He really hopes he hasn’t overstepped any boundaries. It would be a long walk back to Loch Nora if Eddie suddenly decided to kick him out.

Eddie gives a small nod and gestures for him to step into the water.

Steve quickly abandons the last scraps of his uniform and gingerly takes Eddie’s outstretched hand for stability.

The temperature was extremely pleasant on his battered body. Small cuts along his back began to sting but Steve couldn’t help relaxing despite the pain. He was tired.

He could hear Eddie tentatively follow him into the spray, A small exhale in front of him signalled that he was there. He knew if he raised his hand Eddie would be right there. Almost helplessly Steve began to curl into himself, to make himself small.

He was so tired. He wanted to rest. To simply stop existing for a bit.

But Eddie wouldn’t let him. Instead, Eddie places one hand on Steve’s back and pulls him in, while cupping Steve's face in the other, causing them to come nose to nose.

Steve’s eyes shoot open in surprise. He wasn’t even aware he’d closed them.

Eddie meets his gaze and seemingly finds something in his face that makes him send a small smile in Steve’s direction.

Grabbing a washcloth, Eddie begins to wipe Steve’s face gently.

Then his neck.

Then slowly trailed further down.

Eddie scrubbed his body in an almost reverent way.

Steve felt exposed. No one had handled him with this much kindness in years. Not since before the first upside down incident. It left him feeling flayed open and yet, his muscles began to relax under Eddie's callused hands.

He continued to stand there as Eddie scrubbed every inch of his skin clean from the horrors he had faced that night.

Eddie’s voice unexpectedly cut through the sound of the shower.

“Would you like some help washing your hair?” He asked in a whisper, voice cracking with something Steve was unable to identify.

Steve gave a short nod, hoping it didn’t come off as rude.

The pop of a shampoo bottle was the only indication that Eddie had in fact seen it and soon the scent of aloe vera consumed him.

They didn’t speak. Not that Steve thought he’d be able to anyway. His tongue felt rooted to the roof of his mouth. Unable and unwilling to break the calm silence that they had created where everything else was merely a background noise.

Steve can only focus on his long, glorious fingers buried in his hair, washing it clean. He is putty in Eddie’s hands. He could do just about anything to him right now and Steve wouldn’t even care. His fingers gently scratch his scalp sending shivers up Steve’s spine and a small keening noise escapes his mouth before his brain can catch up.

Eddie’s hands pause but before Eddie can open his mouth, Steve quickly blurts “Please don’t stop. Feels nice.”

Eddie releases a small breath yet continues, his hands slightly trembling as he washes out the last of the product.

All too soon the shower is turned off and Steve is wrapped in a large fluffy towel.

They shuffle into Eddie’s room, and he tenderly dries and clothes Steve. His brain is mush from all the gentle movements of Eddie’s hands, his brain flying off to somewhere else, leaving him only feeling warm and fuzzy.

Eddie shuffles around the room, aimlessly grabbing things before coming over to manoeuvre Steve to lie down.

He expected for Eddie to climb in with him, however, Eddie’s warmth is abruptly ripped away when he begins to curl up on the ground. Why would he sleep down there when this is his bed? Does he not want to be close to him anymore? Did he make it weird in the shower? The feeling of ice being dumped on him causes words to slip out before he can stop them.

“No.” He mutters. “Come here.”

A startled noise makes its way out of Eddie’s mouth. “There’s not a lot of room up there Stevie, we’d have to cuddle” he states.  

“Then we cuddle” he declares.

He doesn’t care how this will affect him in the morning. Maybe Eddie will hate him or never want to speak to him again. But right now, Steve craves the fuzzy feeling in his head that Eddie produced. He doesn’t know what it is, but the way his mind became quiet when Eddie touched him makes him need to be surrounded by his warmth. To wrap him up so he can forget everything. Forget about Hopper. And the Russians. And the feeling of harsh hands all over his body. 

He holds out a hand beckoning Eddie onto the bed.

Cautiously he takes it and allows Steve to arrange his body in a position where he can feel him along his whole back. A shuddering breath comes from Eddie, sounding next to his ear, making Steve do a satisfying full body shiver. Ignoring this, he drapes Eddie’s arms across his body, shuffling further into the encompassing warmth.

The fuzzy, drifting feeling returns instantly and the next time he opens his eyes, the late morning sun greets him, filtering through slightly parted curtains.

Chapter Text

Sadly, all good things must end eventually.

He had been at the Munsons’ place for close to a week as he healed but Steve knew he had to go home.

The morning after Starcourt had been the worst.

He'd woken up in the bed alone, the side Eddie had slept on long cold.

Had he made it awkward?

He knew he'd been too needy the night before. Too selfish. Acting un-Harrington like.

Yet he'd been unable to care. Too tired and too comfortable in Eddie's warm arms to even register the threat that acting fragile would bring under normal circumstances.

His head was thrumming periodically, causing little black spots to cover most of his vision.

He desperately needed some ibuprofen or paracetamol. Maybe both. 

Or something stronger.

That being said, the thought of anything stronger than painkillers in his system made his stomach roll.

The drug trip he and Robin had experienced at the hands of the Russians left a bad taste in his mouth and he had zero desire to be that high again.

He slowly rolled out of bed, trying to avoid throwing up as his vision swam.

He lifted his arm to make sure he wasn't going to run into anything as he stumbled forward only to be met with his fingers brushing the soft fabric of a shirt.

He squinted his eyes to make them focus and the blob that had suddenly been obstructing his way sharpened into none other than Eddie.

Blushing, Steve realised that he'd been touching Eddie's chest and quickly withdrew his hand.

"Hey Steve, I thought I heard you shuffling around. Figured your crackbrained night had caught up to you," Eddie says with a chuckle.

"I brought you some meds. Nothing fun though, Wayne was very firm that you couldn't have any of the good stuff if you know what I mean." He says, eyebrows wiggling.

Eddie held his hand out, unable to process what was happening, Steve simply blinked at him. Slowly, his feeble brain started to reboot, finally registering that Eddie was trying to give him something and held out his own hand.

His face felt flush. Was he too dumb to even pick up on body cues now? Maybe he should have gotten the full checkup. He had escaped the paramedics as soon as he could, not wanting to go to the hospital. He knew that his father would berate him for using their medical insurance. He wasn’t to use money unnecessarily.

Carefully Eddie tipped two pills into his hand and pushed a mug full of water into his other. With what Eddie had said, the pills were exactly what he’d been trying to find. Steve swallowed them.

They slid down his throat easily, the cool water a balm to his sore and dry throat. Greedily he gulped down the rest of the mug, draining it in seconds. His lips smacked in satisfaction, unwilling to let a droplet go to waste. Yet he was still thirsty.

Sensing this, Eddie carefully took the cool ceramic from his grasp and led him into the main section of the trailer, forcing him to sit at the small dining table as he refilled Steve’s mug.

He hadn’t gotten a good look at the Munson trailer the night before. Too out of it to register most of what was going on. The trailer was nothing compared to his own house. There was general clutter everywhere, a wall of mugs and enough blankets and lamps to make the place look extremely cosy. It was nice. Something about it made him feel instantly at home, which was insane as he had never been here before. It was just such a stark contrast to his house. He knew that his parents could drop by without notice at any point, so it needed to be perfect and spotless at all times. Pristine and as if Steve didn’t live there. That’s how his parents liked it.

Settling the now refilled mug in front of water in front of Steve, Eddie sat.

“Uncle Wayne is out at the moment. He had to do some jobs, so this morning, I’m your caretaker Stevie boy.” He said, sending a dimpled smile Steve’s way.

Steve toyed with the lip of the mug for a moment before picking it up again, taking a long sip.

He could barely remember how he arrived at the Munson trailer last night, but the impression of Eddie’s long fingers in his hair, massaging his scalp, was incredibly hard to forget.

He cleared his throat, blinking rapidly to dispel the memory.

“How- how long was I out man?” He says barely above a whisper.

Despite it being normal for him to wake up alone in his own house, waking up here without a single scrap of someone else’s warmth had been jarring and unexpected. How long had it been for Eddie’s body heat to no longer be there to comfort him when he woke up? How long had he been alone?

He tried to show none of this on his face.

He was sure Eddie was already thinking he was a weirdo who had forced him to cuddle last night. Maybe he’d rationalise it by saying he was way too out of it due to his concussion. Maybe Eddie wouldn’t spread that Steve had pulled him as close as he could, desperate to share body heat. Greedy for a semblance of warmth. That wasn’t the Harrington way, He wasn’t permitted to touch people so casually, unless he was laying his claim on a pretty lady. Not that Eddie wasn’t pretty. His wild toothy smile was unmissable when he decided to get up on tables in the lunchroom.

Steve had been surprised to learn Eddie had failed English specifically. His lunchtime speeches had been expressive and articulate and highlight of Steve’s monotonous days in senior year when he had no one around to even sit with at lunch. Also, he had a nice voice, it was smoothing in the most unlikely way, and Steve had a hard time not fully engaging when they began, making sure to keep his head low so they wouldn’t make eye contact.

Eddie’s soft reassurances from the night before came flooding back to his brain. Steve was unaware Eddie’s voice could sound like that, a soft yet commanding baritone that could pull him from the depths of panic, sooth him into that weird floaty headspace with only simple touches and his voice.

But now his voice was back to normal as he answered Steve’s question. “It’s around eleven thirty now. I woke up about an hour or two before you. Wayne said I should try let you sleep so I’ve been waiting for your majesty to awaken from slumber so I can check your wounds again. Feeling any better? You looked pretty rough last night.”

That was the understatement of the century.

How could he articulate how badly the last forty-eight hours had been for him? That no one had even noticed he was gone because the only person who would constantly barge into his life was down there with him. He made a note in his head that he probably needed to start carrying spare batteries around so Henderson’s walkie never ran out again. God, he hopes the upside down is properly closed this time.

Steve’s tongue is heavy in his mouth. He doesn’t think he could talk about it even if he wanted to. Instead, he gives Eddie a short nod and a smile that undoubtedly looks more like a grimace.

He didn’t know if it was a look in his eyes or his lack of reply, but Eddie let him be after that. Only interrupting Steve’s thoughts when a plate of eggs was slid in front of him.

“Eat up Stevie boy and then I’ll play nurse for you.” Eddie says with a wink.

How could Eddie be this friendly towards him? Surely, he and his old friends would have bullied him. Sure, he had desperately tried to move away from that crowd but that didn’t erase the harm he’d done in the past. He would not blame Eddie for dropping him on the side of the road to find his own way home. But he hadn’t, not yet anyway.

After their meal Eddie did in fact rebandage all the injuries he had.

Steve was forced to take off his shirt so Eddie could poke and prod his ribs. It hurt like a mother fucker but luckily, to Steve’s genuine surprise, none had been broken yet the bruises were mottled in nasty dark blues and blacks. He couldn’t stand looking down at his body for long, couldn’t stand reminding himself of the punches he’d taken and instead chooses to fixate on Eddie’s room.

What appeared to be band posters were haphazardly taped to his walls, some peeling up at the edges from wear and tear. Much like the rest of the trailer, Eddie’s things were strewn all over the room. Clothes were haphazardly pushed into an overflowing dresser, books of all kinds littered the top and also on the bedside table. An ashtray he’d failed to notice the night before, perched on top of a copy of Nineteen Eighty-Four. It was all so unlike his own sterile room which was decorated by his mother years ago. Now he felt like he was unable to change anything for fear of the repercussions. Even the old stock car photo frame was left as it is, not that he even had any photos of friends or family to insert in it.

Unexpectedly a hand cups his cheek and guides him to face forward again. Abruptly Steve is back in the Russian bunker, a rough hand holds his face in place. The general’s spittle flecks his cheeks as he screams. He can’t move.

HE CAN’T MOVE.

His breath quickens. Faintly he can feel himself trembling but there’s nothing he can do. He can’t feel his limbs, there is only pain. He’s going to die in the Russian bunker alone and then Robin will be next. Dustin will be next. He can’t let that happen. He can’t.

His heart hammers in his chest, an uneven staccato. And then all at once he is enveloped in a weighted warm embrace forcing him to take a gulp of air as he’s pushed backwards. He fully expects to be met with cold hard concrete flooring but is bewildered when he’s met with plush bedding instead.

Big brown eyes as wide as Bambi's stare down at him.

It takes him a moment to regain his bearings as Eddie continues to lie on his chest like a glorified blanket.

He opens his mouth but is beaten to it by Eddie. "I'm sorry!" He blurts. "I wasn't thinking before I touched you and then you started to panic and talking wasn't helping like last time, and and you looked scared man, you look terrified of whatever you were panicking about and the only thing I could think of was to knock you out of your thoughts somehow and now I'm here and oh god I probably have made your injuries worse, you didn't hit your head did you? Uncle Wayne would kill me if my clumsiness somehow made things worse for you. Are you okay? Please tell me you're okay." Eddie says, staring imploringly at him, shifting his gaze between Steve’s eyes.

Steve realises slowly that he’s waiting for an actual answer but he’s too preoccupied with how Eddie was able to say all that in one breath, only stopping when he’d eventually run out of steam.

“You know, you’d probably do well on the swimming team with that lung capacity Munson” he says instead of giving Eddie any real answer. He was slowly discovering that he quite liked having Munson on top of him like this, the pressure made him feel safe and secure for some reason and he could feel his body relaxing muscle by muscle till he felt a bone deep exhaustion overtake him.

“Are you okay Steve? I just need to change a few bandages on your face. Is that okay?”

His head felt empty, and his thought process was sluggish. He just wanted a nap now.

“Yeah, ‘m good. Sleepy.” He slurred back.

Eddie gave a small chuckle, “All right big boy, you can nap after I finish, sound good?”

Carefully Eddie begins to prop himself up and off of Steve. The security and protection he was feeling moments ago was suddenly gone, and without thinking, he grabs Eddie’s waist, forcing him to halt his ascent which ends with him somehow awkwardly straddling Steve’s lap.

Eddie squeaked in surprise.  “Sorry!” Steve says, hands letting go of Eddie’s sides. His waist was so small, was Eddie eating enough?

A furious blush was beginning to blotch Eddie’s neck and face, his eyes swivelled around the room, his face making an expression Steve couldn’t decipher.

“Sorry,” he said again. “I don’t know what came over me but ah, could you maybe try changing the bandages from here? I don’t know if I can get up properly.” He tries to excuse, stumbling over his words to keep Eddie where he is. 

Eddie pulls a piece of his long curly hair across his face, covering his lips as he stares at Steve for a moment.

He’d made it uncomfortable. Of course he had. Steve was clearly incapable of showing emotions in any sort of normal way and was now even chasing the school freak off. Good job Harrington. “It’s okay man, just forget it,” he said hurriedly, now attempting to sit up, yet his arms felt like lead, causing him to only perform a weird shimmy of the top half of his body.

“No, no you’re okay dude, I can do that.” He said, an odd expression still on his face, but his eyes softened. “Just relax Steve, I’ll make sure to tell you what I’m doing.” He said soothingly.

Getting set up again, Eddie made sure to tell Steve exactly what he was about to do, waiting for some kind of acknowledgement from Steve before touching him.

Steve only had a vague idea of what he looked like right now and would most likely be horrified by what he saw. The areas Eddie touched were incredibly tender and he would apologise each time Steve flinched.

When Byers had given him that shiner back in ‘83, his mother had pretended to care by fussing over him and prodding at the bruises, offering nothing like what Eddie was doing now. Instead, when he flinched, she simply admonished him saying, what would the neighbours think! Thank Christ your father didn’t come back this time, seeing you like this. No girl will go for you if they see you like this Steven.

His parents hadn’t even been around at all for the second go around when Billy had pulverised his face. Somehow, he felt he was lucky for that.

Eventually as Eddie finished, they lapsed into an easy silence. His eyelids were heavy, and time felt as if it was moving slower. Eddie eased himself off Steve’s lap, jolting him awake slightly.

“Alright I’ll let you sleep for a bit, if you need me, I’ll just be in the front room” Eddie says softly, moving to wrap Steve in a blanket and tucks him in. It was bizarre, Eddie was a stranger, yet he felt cared for and protected by a single sheet being wrapped snugly around him.

He slept in Eddie’s bed until Wayne got home around dusk, the sound of voices filtering through Eddie’s walls. He couldn’t quite believe he’d slept that solidly for hours without any nightmares, feeling quite disoriented by the whole situation. He smoothed out the blanket he’d been tucked into, beginning to fold it neatly without thinking.

He should go home tonight. Ask one of the men to drop him home.

He staggered towards the door, intending to thank Wayne and Eddie for their hospitality and then leave. Instead, he was waved over to the lounge where Wayne was sitting watching the news.

A pit formed in Steve’s stomach as the story changed to images of Starcourt burning from the night before. Quickly he retreated to where Eddie was cooking something. He couldn’t hear about the aftermath right now. He couldn’t bear to see Hopper up on the screen as one of the deceased, to remind him of his failure as a protector. His only consolation is that none of the kids were harmed in the end. Traumatised and battered? Absolutely, but Steve had at least kept them out of death's grasp.

Steve felt his shoulders hunching, trying to make himself small and decided he couldn’t watch this, he just couldn’t listen to those events right now. Instead, he jumped at the opportunity to help Eddie cook dinner.

Eddie gave him an easy smile, probably sensing Steve’s mood and instructed him to begin cutting the vegetables for the minestrone soup. It was an easy and menial task and allowed Steve to tune out all other noise, he hoped the report would be over soon. He and Eddie worked side by side, prepping the meal, occasionally bumping shoulders.

Once the soup was done, Wayne switched off the TV and they sat at the small dining table near the door. They ate in an easy silence broken up occasionally with Eddie rambling about the book he was reading or the campaign he was writing. It was nice. Like they hadn’t changed their routine for Steve at all.

Had they changed their routine for him? How would he know?  He didn’t know these men, they took in a stranger just because he’d stupidly called the wrong number.

Clearly his expression must have changed. Steve had spent such a long time trying to perfect his passive bored persona for it to fail him when he needed it most.

“So, Ed and I were thinking you’d best stay here for a few more days Steve” Wayne said abruptly, breaking the silence they’d fallen into.

“But-” Steve began to protest.

“No but’s, you’d be doing me a favour, knowing you’re not going to fall down and cark it without anyone being around to notice. It was pure luck you called my number when you were clearly not okay last night Steve. Who knows what would have happened if no one was around last night.” Wayne continues, completely railroading Steve’s arguments.

Grasping at straws Steve says “but I don’t want to put you guys out. I’m already taking half of Eddie’s bed, I can’t just take advantage of your hospitality-”

Wayne leaned over the table to pat his arm, “You’re welcome here for as long as you like Steve. You’re not taking advantage of us. We’re offering,” he said. Before Steve could begin to argue Wayne got up and began clearing the plates, waving Steve off when he attempted to help.

The conversation left Steve feeling untethered, unsure of what he was expected to do around the Munson’s. His fingers bit into the skin of his palm. Surely they couldn’t just simply have Steve eat all their food and sleep there without any sort of compensation. He couldn’t burden them like that.

Strong fingers gently grabbed his hand and unwound his knuckles, releasing the biting pressure in his palm. “Hey Steve, it’s ok. We want you here. If you really need to help, then you can make dinners with me. We just want you to heal and get better. Is that alright with you sweetheart” Eddie says in a softer voice. “Also, I don’t mind sharing my bed with you. It’s cosy.” He says, grin playing on his face.

Steve could do nothing but to very slowly smile back and nod. “Okay, just for a few days,” he agrees.  

///

Now nearly a week later, he's convinced himself that surely now he’d overstayed his welcome despite Eddie and Wayne's prior protests. He was healing up okay and so they no longer had any reason to worry about him.

He was taking up Eddie’s bed for god’s sake. The warm comfort of Eddie wrapped around him each night was reassuring but he was sure the other man was sick of him. He’s said it was cosy but each night when Steve snuggled into Eddie to recreate the drifting sensation from the first night he would tense up, only relaxing after a few moments.

He knew he had no right to Eddie and Wayne’s easy affection and yet he craved it. His parents weren’t huggers. They were never there to give what normal parents would without restrictions.

Regardless, he also needed to find a new job. He wasn't even sure if he'd receive his last check from Scoops due to his and Robin's disappearance for a full forty-eight hours.

When they got out Robin's parents had appeared immediately, looking around frantically for their daughter. They had dragged her away before they had even gotten to say goodbye to each other, leaving Steve to slowly walk home.

At least he couldn't remember most of his walk. Mind still too out of it to comprehend the trip.

Were his parents even contacted? Did they know about Starcourt burning down? That their only son almost died in a so-called mall fire? Did his parents call at all after the Munson's took him in?

And even if they did, would they have cared? All he ever was is a fuck up to them, useless to pass on the Harrington name. The best thing he could possibly be at this point is a marriage bargaining chip and they surely thought he would screw that up too.

He still couldn’t watch the news coverage about the mall. Thankfully after the first time, Wayne had made a point to change the channel when that particular story came on. Wayne always gave a different excuse, but Steve knew he was just trying to be nice. He shouldn’t be avoiding his problems, that’s why Nancy had called him bullshit, why she’d left him for Johnathan who could at least express his emotions in a human way instead of pretending none of it happened. But it was hard not to slip back into his comping mechanism he’d been using for years before the first run in with the Upside Down.

A sense of vertigo overtakes him. White spots blurring his vision momentarily as his balance is restored.

Wayne had told him to go get checked out by a GP if his concussion symptoms continued for another few weeks but Steve thought he was fine. Had been fine the last time when a glass had been smashed on his head. So why wouldn’t he be fine this time.

He moves to collect his shoes from where they've been abandoned for the past week.

Since his first step into the trailer, they've periodically been moved around as Wayne and Eddie came and went. Not Steve though, never Steve. There was always someone at home at any given moment to make sure he was okay. But not today. Both men were clearly out at the moment, the trailer unusually silent. Picking up his shoe’s Steve noticed that someone had clearly taken the time to meticulously scrub his shoes clean as the blood and ash that was previously on them was nowhere to be seen.

It had taken a few days for his thoughts to stop ping ponging around and actually make sense and yet the Munson’s had been so kind. Helping him, letting him rest, even going so far as to make meals for him or let his help make the less strenuous meals. Eddie hadn’t tried to get in the shower with him since that first time, but Steve was aware that at least for his first few alone, Eddie hovered by the door, ready if he slipped or fainted. Luckily, he hadn’t.

His Scoops uniform was long since gone.

Steve had zero desire to keep the ripped and bloody uniform as a reminder of the ‘fire’. And yet that left him with having to borrow everything from Eddie who surely was getting sick of lending him his comfy clothes.

He had to get out of here. He could not inconvenience these kind men more.

He grappled for his keys, only to feel the plush material of Eddie's sweatpants, horror slowly began to dawn on him.

His keys had been taken by the Russians. They had been burned in the fire and were surely unreachable under all the rubble.

And worse? His car was still in the carpark of Starcourt, meaning he would have to trek home and then also the several miles to the rubble of his job.

He sighs and begins to pull his shoes on. There was nothing he could do about it at this point, he’d have to go grab his spare from the house first.

Looking around the Munson’s place again he felt a bit guilty about leaving while they were out. He wasn’t sure if he should leave a note. Wasn’t sure if they’d stress when they came home, and he was gone.

He knew the Munson’s weren’t like his parents but maybe he’d just give them a call in the evening instead, leave a voicemail.

Resolute in his decision he swings the front door open only to find Eddie sitting on the outside lounge, random books and pieces of paper strewn around him in no particular order.

They both stare at each other for a second before Eddie greets Steve with a smile, showing off his dimples, “Hey Stevie, what’re you doing? I was just writing something for dnd and needed some sunlight.” He says, clearly suspecting nothing.

He then notices Steve’s shoes on his feet. “What’s going on? Going somewhere?” he asks inquisitively.

Steve deflates, he’d thought he finally had a chance to go before making anything awkward, yet he’d completely forgotten to consider that Eddie was just outside. Eddie holds his gaze, clearly prepared to get an answer out of Steve before he goes anywhere else.

“I ah, was going to go home man. I’ve taken up too much of your time as it is and you know, my injuries are looking better so I thought I best get out of your hair. And ah- stop you know, borrowing all your clothes. Also, I need to get a job now that my old one burned down.” He says, trying to avoid direct eye contact with Eddie. He’d been rehearsing these reasons in his head all morning and now it all just felt like flimsy excuses to be leaving without any notice.

A small sigh escapes Eddie, “you know you’re not wasting our time Stevie, we don’t mind that you’re here. But if you’re desperate to go can you at least tell me how you were going to get home?”

His face burns in embarrassment. Eddie knew, he just wanted Steve to say it for some reason. “I was going to walk man, my- my car is still at Starcourt so was going to walk to my house and then grab the car.” He explains, shuffling from foot to foot. He’s not sure why he feels caught doing something nefarious but a well of shame was bubbling inside of him.

A small sad smile appears on Eddie’s face, “I guess we did only agree to a few days, didn't we big boy?. Alright, I’ll let you go but I’m driving. No way in hell would Wayne let me let you trek all the way home and then also to Starcourt by yourself. Hell, he’s not even going to be happy that you’re leaving before you’re properly healed but I can see that you’re determined to go now. Lemme just grab my keys,” he says, hauling himself up from the couch. Bits of paper drift to the ground but Eddie pays them no mind as he slips past Steve, into the trailer.

Unable to help himself, Steve grabs all the loose pages and tucks them inside one of the notebooks so they’re all in one place when Eddie gets back, then waits. He recognises that he can’t fight Eddie on this and awkwardly stands on the veranda until Eddie appears again, leading him to a van that had seen better days.

As Eddie starts the engine, music blares out of the speakers, making Steve wince before Eddie quickly toggles it down to almost silent. “Sorry,” he says sheepishly, before turning it back up to a more reasonable level. “So, where are we headed first?”

///

The drive hadn’t been too bad. Eddie had waited for Steve to run and grab his spare key and then to his car, which was luckily unscathed. Eddie had insisted on following him back to his house, just in case he actually wasn’t okay to drive still and ended up in a ditch.

Having his car back in the driveway instantly made him feel more secure for some reason. Like this was a step back towards normal that he hadn’t been able to experience the past week. And now, for some dumb reason, he didn’t actually want Munson to leave.

As Eddie hung his head out the window to shout goodbye, Steve gestured for him to come inside, and he quickly swung his fan in behind Steve. “What’s up, you alright?” He said, looking concerned.

“Ah, no, nothing is wrong, I just wanted to see if you’d like a coffee. It’s all good if you don’t! I’d get it if you have something you need to do instead.” He says, feeling sheepish that he’d made Eddie concerned.

Eddie’s face morphed into a massive grin, “A coffee at theee Steve Harrington’s house? Don’t mind if I do.” He said, eyebrows wagging in a gesture Steve now solidly associated with Eddie and his ‘jester’ way of acting as he’d described earlier in the week.

It made Steve smile. Eddie had been incredibly kind to him even though he was probably awful to him in high school. And Steve had discovered he actually quite enjoyed Eddie’s eccentric way of talking and acting. It reminded him of Robin -with less rambling of course- and of Dustin’s nerdiness, both men unable to stop themselves from talking about their dungeons game. It was nice.

Eddie swaggers past Steve, into the house and Steve can’t help cracking a grin. He quickly retreats into the house, reacquainting himself with the kitchen. It felt as if he hadn’t been here for ages and has the sudden thought to check the expiry on the milk. Shit, it was several days out of date and with his nose still stuffed up, he couldn’t tell by its smell if it was still alright.

He turns to Eddie sheepishly, “black okay? I can’t tell if the milk is alright or not so best not to tempt fate.” He says, moving instead to the coffee machine to start their brew.

“It’s all good Stevie, got any sugar I can put in it instead?” Eddie asks.

Steve gestures to the cupboard and Eddie rummages through to find his desired item, commenting on a few products in a delighted manner like a kid in a candy store. He finds the sugar just as Steve puts the steaming mugs on the counter.

To Steve horror and Eddie’s delight, he proceeds to tip several heaped spoon-worths of sugar into his coffee, turning it into what could only be described as coffee flavoured sugar at this point.

He turns and sees Steve’s expression, “oh my god, it’s not that bad Stevie, I like my coffee sweet!” he tries to deflect. Steve is still limply holding the spoon intended for him to scoop the sugar with.

Steve can do nothing but burst out laughing, Eddie soon following him. He falls into a comfortable silence as Eddie rambles about the campaign he was writing that morning, only having to nod or hum in agreement for Eddie to keep going. It’s been like this all week and Steve has gotten used to the constant noises Eddie makes.

Suddenly, someone is banging on the door, the doorbell being rang concurrently. The noise is deafening, even Eddie whips around in alarm. Ready for the apparent danger as the door bangs open after a few seconds of the overwhelming combo.

“Steeeeeve? You here buddy? Don’t tell me you’re not because we finally saw your car in the driveway meaning you must be here!” He knows that voice. It’s ear piercing in the best way.

“Henderson?” Steve calls, moving towards the entryway to find both Robin and Dustin squabbling. “Hey, guys, what’s going on? Why are you banging on my door like that?” he says, hands instinctively going to his hips.

They both whirl on him and begin to speak over each other. It gets louder and more unintelligible as they round on each other again and fight to be heard first. It causes Steve to take a step back into the warm torso of Eddie who quietly places his hands over Steve’s ears.

“Hey!” Eddie shouts, his hands effectively muffling everything so his head wouldn’t hurt. “One at a time. I don’t know what’s going on here, but Steve can’t have loud noises at the moment. So you need to calm down.” he says forcefully, causing both Dustin and Robin to whirl around again, now with guilt plainly expressed on their faces.

“Sorry,” says Robin in a much lower tone. Eddie releases his ears but stays at his back protectively.  “We were concerned when neither of us had heard from Steve after Starcourt. And- and I just was really scared for him. We didn’t even know if he got home.” Robin says, eyes misty.

A pit forms in Steve’s stomach. He’s such an idiot. He didn’t think to tell anyone he was gone. Hadn’t even thought to leave a message saying he was fine. He thought no one would care or notice, too relieved to have another incident over to be thinking about him.

“I tried calling so many times, and then when I biked over yesterday, I saw Robin here. Neither of us could reach you and it really freaked us out. We decided if you weren’t back by today, we’d start calling around. Get the party to look around Starcourt and the hospital. Where the hell have you been man? And who is this!”

His tongue is caught in his mouth, only able to pathetically open and close his mouth. He glances at Eddie, eyes pleading for him to explain.

Without delay, Eddie steps forward, sweeping himself into a comically low bow. “I am a simple court jester, who rescued king Stevie from further injury mere nights ago! T’was mine fine uncle who received his message of distress and thus he has been convalescing at my dwellings ever since.” He says, putting on an exaggerated Elizabethan accent.

Gaping, Robin and Dustin’s eyes slowly drift back to Steve. He’s unsure if they didn’t understand what Eddie was saying or were too shocked by his display of nerdism to respond.

There’s an awkward pause where no one says anything. Eddie stands up straight again, finally realising that no one was going to respond to him. Coughing slightly, “It’s a long story. I’ll explain later,” Steve mumbles, shuffling around them to close the door.

“Ah, Steve, it seems like I should probably go to let you guys talk.” Eddie says ruefully. He pulls a crumpled sheet of paper and a pen out of his pocket and scribbles something on it. Before he can ask it’s thrust into Steve’s hands, “look, here’s my number, if you need something just call. Wayne would have loved to say goodbye. Don’t be a stranger.” He says hurriedly. Pausing briefly to wave goodbye before exiting the house.

Steve was left stunned, all three of them now standing awkwardly in the entrance of the house as they witness Eddie’s retreat. Eddie was like a hurricane, blasting through one moment, making Steve feel completely swept off his feet then the next like he’d never been there.

Of course Dustin was the first to break the silence. “What the hell man, how did I not know you had an older nerdy friend. Where have you been keeping him.” He says with pout.

Steve sighs, “either of you want a drink? I’m making coffee.” He says, before turning back into the kitchen. They follow him of course, Dustin calling for a coke and Robin for coffee.

When they’re comfortable and with their drinks, they begin to tell him what they were up to after Starcourt. How they had begun to worry and call around for him. In return he told them where he’d been, keeping why the Munson’s found him, out of the story.

As it grew late Dustin moved to leave, abruptly he turned around, throwing himself at Steve. “I’m glad you’re okay Steve. I don’t know what I would have done if you died.” He says, arms tightening. Steve is helpless to resist the hug, instead sweeping him up in his own embrace.

“I don’t know either Henderson.” He says, allowing the small wet patch to grow, on Eddie’s borrowed shirt.

As Dustin finally lets go after a few moments, he rifles through his bag, presenting Steve with a walkie talkie. “I got this one for you. It’s already on the channel we use. You can call us on this if you need to.” He says, still sniffling slightly.

Taking it, Steve ruffles his hair. His heart swells, he truly feels like he’s been accepted by ‘the party’ in some capacity here. It’s an opportunity for him to finally be useful. To not simply be the hard hitter when they get into a situation. Or even if he is, he can be more effective and help quicker. The kids shouldn’t ever be in a situation where they aren’t protected. Where they’re scared that no one will be there when they need a friend or a protector. He’ll happily be that person for them. “Thanks Henderson. I’ll pick up when you need me,” and then the boy is gone.

Slowly he turns back to Robin, she had gotten quieter and quieter as they’d sat and he was starting to get concerned.

“Robin? Are you okay?” He asks, coming around to sit in Dustin’s unoccupied chair. They sit there, Robin fiddling with her shirt until she’s ready to speak.

“Was it just Russian drugs?” She asks quietly.

Huh? What was she talking about? As in, was that the only time he’s had drugs? “I mean, I’ve had weed before but yeah, I haven’t experienced anything like what the Russians gave us...” he says trailing off when she looks up sharply at him.

“No dingus, was it just the Russian drugs talking when you accepted me for liking girls! Like, are you going to out me now? Are you still my friend? Do you think it's gross and will tell the whole town that I’m a freak show, a monster. That I’m not normal and that there’s something wrong with me?” She blurts, tears starting to well in her eyes.

He’s shocked. It hadn’t even crossed his mind that they hadn’t finished their talk. That he hadn’t made it clear that he didn’t care who she wanted to sleep with.

“Robin, and I say this from the bottom of my heart, I genuinely don’t care who you decide to sleep with. Love is love and as long as you’re happy, I’m happy for you.” He says squeezing her hands in his to emphasise his point.

She gives a wet hiccup. “Really? You’re not like, freaked out or disgusted that the girl you liked wants to pash another girl?”

“Platonic soulmates, remember?” he says, meeting her eyes.

She gives a watery smile. “With a capital P?” she says quietly and hopefully.

“With a capital P,” he confirms, linking their pinkies in an act that feels like some sort of promise.

Once she’s calmed down she sweeps him into a side hug, squeezing him mercilessly. “Thanks Dingus, I needed that. When I couldn’t reach you, I thought you never wanted to talk to me again and I just got in my head about it. And then when I came over to confront you I realised Dustin was also looking for you and then I got scared for you. Just, just don’t disappear like that again. Okay?” She murmurs into his ear.

He hadn’t considered his silence would make her worry. That they weren’t immediately trauma bonded from the upside down experience. It warmed his heart that someone cared. That even when she was scared, she still confronted him about her feelings. She was incredibly brave to even have told him in the first place. He’s about to voice this to her when she immediately ruins the soft moment.

“So,” she says, wiggling her eyebrows. “Eddie Munson eh? How’d his dorky ass get involved?”

Blushing slightly for some reason, he says, “did you want to know about the upside down events or not.”

She cackles but lets him change the subject.

Chapter Text

The damp smell of soil surrounds him. Tunnels as far as the eye can see twisting in several different directions. There’s zero draft down here but the weird chill of the upside down encases Steve, making him shiver. His left eye throbs but he keeps going, looking around for danger. He has to keep the kids close, keep them safe. 

They slow when they reach a big opening. Dustin gives a cheer but is quickly shushed as Lucas begins to splash gasoline everywhere. For some reason this doesn’t phase Steve. Why doesn’t it phase him? He pays it no mind as weird particles of some kind float around them like snow. It’s almost pretty, like when he’d step outside and the soft snow would drift around his face, like it's dancing for winter to come faster. He almost forgets where they are, gazing around the dark tunnel. That is until the smell of ignited gasoline, and the yipping of demodogs catches his attention.

Shit! Suddenly everything is too claustrophobic. The tunnels are closing in on him and the kids. He can’t breathe, the handkerchief feels suffocating, the heat of the flames are getting so close, too close.

He tears off the protection, it’s slowing him down, he needs to breathe. He has to get the kids out. He has to protect them, even if it costs him his life.

They need to run.

RUN.

He’s screaming something, presumably for the kids to hurry up, to get out. They run past him, he needs to be in the back. Needs to see them all get out first. They make it back to their makeshift rope, Lucas, Mike and Red making it out. Leaving only Dustin and himself.

There's so much noise around him, growling and demodog paws bounding towards them in a stampede. He needs to help Dustin up but his arms aren’t cooperating. Steve feels heavy. He can’t lift his arms. He can’t lift Dustin OUT. The demodogs are running at them too fast, Dustin is going to die and it’ll be all his fault. He covers Dustin’s little body with his own as one of the dogs launches at them with its maw wide open. It forcefully knocks them down.

Steve screams incoherently as he’s smacked in the face by a Russian fist.

“Who do you work for!”

Steve looks around the room. It's bare except for a drain in the middle of the room and a suspicious red liquid surrounding it.

Where’s Dustin?

He’s punched again, “I said, Who. Do. You. Work. For!”

“Scoops, Scoops Ahoy!” He gasps as another fist aims itself at his stomach.

“How did you find us?” The general yells.

Steve struggles, but the ropes tying him down bite into his skin. His resistance only earns him a flurry of fists. They pummel his face. His side. Anywhere they can get their hands on. He feels like his skin is being electrified. It hurts. IT HURTS.

“Accident! By Accident!” He screams, panting as they back off for a second. He’s hopeful that this is the answer they were looking for as he can’t tell them anything else because he’s NOT LYING.

Where’s Robin? Where’s Dustin?

His face is gripped in the General’s hand. He squeezes, shooting pain instantly to Steve’s brain. The General's eyes dissect him as his nails bite into the already tender flesh of his cheeks. He feels flayed open, like a lamb for the slaughter.

“More lies.” The general state’s coolly, roughly letting him go and letting Steve slump back into his chair. He beckons for the doctor to step forward.

“No please!” Steve begs, as a massive rusty pair of pliers is pulled out from the shadows.

He frantically struggles, wrists burning in an attempt to get free, fingers curling into his palms. He refuses to make this easy for them. But it doesn’t matter how he tries to resist, his fingers are wrenched from where he had desperately tried to hide them, splayed on a bench and held down.

“No, No, NO Nonononono-” He screams, thrashing to get free.

Blind nauseating pain overtakes him. He can’t help but shriek as his fingernails are ripped from his body.

His eyes fly open, a scream still on his tongue as he launches out of bed. The sheets are tangled around his body, and he almost rips them to get out of the constricting fabric.

The phantom pain in his nails throbs in time with his heart beat.

As soon as he’s free he leaps towards his bathroom, hurling what little he had in his stomach straight into the toilet bowl. As he finishes, he lets his sweaty forehead rest on his arm, unwilling to move away from the toilet for a moment, flashes of his nightmare still running through his brain.

He heaves again, the demodog’s gaping maw behind his eyes every time he tries to close them.

He’s sick of this. Tears sting his eyes, but he feels unable to move, to wipe away the evidence of his failures.

It’s been a month since the upside down ripped Starcourt apart and he hasn’t really been unable to sleep since.

Well, not since he left the Munson’s house.

Finally, after god knows how long, he feels ready to move a little. The sweat had begun to dry on his back making his shirt stick uncomfortably to his skin. He feels disgusting as he re-enters his room. The glowing numbers taunt him as he realises he only got about two hours of sleep, which makes his attempt to go to bed early null and void.

Robin tried to help with his nightmares at first of course. She’d stay over when she could, but cuddling up to her didn’t feel quite right like it had with Eddie, and even when she was beside him, he’d wake up screaming no matter what. Ultimately, they decided that at least one of them should be a functioning human being and clearly that wasn’t going to be Steve. So with that failure, he turned to other methods. He’d tried his mother’s sleeping medications she’d left behind and even those didn’t work, only succeeding to give him a hungover feeling the next morning.

He'd taken to night driving and sleeping in his car when he began to get tired. But he knew that wasn’t a safe method, or even one that would allow him to sleep well. The cricks in his neck making themselves evident each morning with a dull aching throb that refused to go away. So, he’d taken to only doing it a couple times a week now.

The one thing he hadn’t tried was weed, but he hadn’t mustered up the courage to call the Munson’s line ever since Eddie had dropped him back home. Or go to his usual spot, the picnic table around the back of the high school.  He’d managed to avoid the Munsons since July. Ducking when he drove Robin to school and leaving when he caught sight of Wayne. 

He’d picked up the phone multiple times after his nightmares, cold with sweat, longing for company, but he just couldn't do it. He couldn’t quite work out what he was so scared of but his breath would get shallow and tight. Fingers trembling too hard to even finish dialling their number. 

Hell, the hastily scrawled number was now sitting, unwrinkled as much as he could make it, in his bedside table’s top draw. Just waiting to finally be used.

But he knew he couldn’t go on for much longer without calling. Not if he wanted to try his final resort. Weed. He recalled that when he had finally scored a job interview a week ago that allowed both Steve and Robin to work together, he’d been too tired to properly comprehend Keith’s question of top three movies without making a colossal idiot out of himself. He’d only answered with ‘the Star Wars movie with the teddy bears’ because he vaguely remembers watching with Eddie in between sleeping as he was healing.

He’d been a zombie since then and it's clearly starting to show on his face, deep eyebags forming and a lack of appetite. Each time Robin looks at him now, it’s with sadness and concern which is absolutely eating Steve alive, no pun intended. But no one should be worrying about him, he should be the worrier.

Shaking himself a bit he picks up the phone.

He hadn’t thought this out properly, but even Keith had said something to him about sleep yesterday. Fucking Keith, who constantly had Cheeto dust on his fingers and greasy hair. So yeah, if his nerd boss who didn’t even care about him because he was the former king of Hawkens high said something, it had clearly gotten much worse than he’d thought.

He took a deep breath. He could do this.

Slowly, he dials. Each number is purposefully punched in, making sure he didn’t have any errors.

The phone line rings. 

And rings. 

And rings. 

He really hopes Eddie picks up instead of Wayne. He feels immensely guilty that he hadn’t ended up saying goodbye to the man, even though he’d been the one to find him.

“Hello?” The voice says.

It’s Eddie.

Oh god, he wasn’t prepared. He didn’t know what to say, how to say it. He needed to apologise, to explain that he wasn’t consciously avoiding them at first and then when he had noticed, he thought it was too awkward. Too weird for him to contact them again with so much silence in between.

Clearly he’d been too silent on the phone as Eddie says grumpily, “if this is a prank call I’m hanging up.”

His heart lurches, saying the first thing he can get off his tongue. “No! Don’t hang up. It’s, it’s Steve... Harrington. I know you probably don’t want to talk to me, and I’d fully get if you hang up after this but I just need you to know I’m really sorry man.”

There’s a pause where Steve anxiously begins to fiddle with the phone cord.

“Steve?” Eddie finally says. “Hey, I thought we were never going to hear from you. What’s going on?” He says, concern clear in his voice.

“So, I,” he clears his throat. “I haven’t really been sleeping, man. And, ah, I know this is really embarrassing after all this time but...” He trails off. Struggling against his embarrassment for having to resort to this, to using Eddie again. “But I need some weed.” He says unable to keep the wobble out of his voice.

He hears a heavy exhale on the other line, “I can get that for you Harrington. When did you want to come and grab it?”

“Well does- does tonight work?” He asks meekly. He fully expects Eddie to say no, to ask him to visit him during ‘office hours’ but he’s desperate enough to ask. He really can’t go many more days without sleep. With constant nightmare of what was and could have been plaguing him.

“Sure, I’m free right now. you remember which trailer we live at, right?” His usual melodic voice had taken on a harsh tone, with a sarcastic lilt at the end. Steve almost doesn’t catch it, doesn’t want to acknowledge it in fear of backing out now.

He grips the phone tighter, the plastic handle bending ever so slightly before he mentally checks himself and lets go.

“Of course I do. I’ll be there in 10.” He says, hanging up quickly before Eddie can say anything else. He can’t dwell on Eddie’s tone right now. He knows he’d start over analysing everything and chicken out.

Quickly he shucks off his damp shirt and decides to grab his incredibly soft yellow sweater Robin had gifted him from god knows where. If Eddie was going to berate him, he at least wanted to have a reminder that Robin was still his friend. That he hadn’t cocked up that relationship like he had done with so many before. Not yet at least.

With a cursory swipe of deodorant, he deems himself somewhat presentable to go have an incredibly awkward conversation. Would Wayne be home or was he still working nights? He almost wished he was but then again, it might make things ten times more awkward. He can barely handle one Munson right now let alone two.

The trip there was inconsequential. Did he speed? He must have, as it felt as if almost no time had passed when he was suddenly pulling up in front of the Munson’s trailer wholly unprepared, Wayne’s car nowhere in sight.

His hands flex on his steering wheel. 

Could he do this? He didn’t actually know Eddie that well. They’d been inseparable when he’d been staying at the Munson’s, but he wasn’t sure if that was just a natural consequence of him being too injured to operate like a normal human. 

And now, after not talking to Eddie for the best part of a month he was here trying to make a business deal as if nothing had happened. As if they hadn’t fallen asleep together and woken up knotted together in an elaborate configuration. As if they had been best friends for years instead of the tormenter and tormented. He never did get to ask Eddie about that. Never mustered up the courage to ask if he or his friends had bullied Eddie and his friends. Too afraid that the answer would be yes, and Eddie would suddenly remember Steve wasn’t worth keeping around.

A tap on his window breaks him out of his spiral. 

“Hey, Harrington. You dead in there? You’ve been sat here for a solid five minutes” Eddie’s voice says in a confusing mix of concern and indifference.

Feeling like lead, Steve consciously drags his hand to his keys and turns off the ignition. The cars’ steady rumbling cuts off, leaving a heavy silence in the air.  Forcefully he drags his head up and meets Eddie’s gaze.

Slowly he cracks what he hopes looks like a tired smile. “Hey man, sorry for calling you so late. I hope I haven’t interrupted your plans tonight.” He says, trying to keep down the impending panic he had been spiralling into.

Eddie gives him an odd look before gesturing for Steve to follow him without another word. Steve feels an odd pang of sadness as he silently follows him into the trailer. He hadn’t known Eddie that long, but he’d thought he had at least gotten to know his mannerisms and facial expressions. Yet seeing him now felt like looking at a foggy mirror, too distorted to work out what was truly underneath.

The trailer feels exactly the same as the last time he saw it, homey and inviting. Tension he didn’t know he was carrying melts off his shoulders as he looks around. Even with the addition of a few more lamps and mugs scattered around, it looks the same as last time.

A clang sounds behind him causing him to turn sharply, ready to assess the danger. Instead of demodogs or Russian soldiers, he quickly spies the offending object, a simple metal lunchbox he’s seen Eddie carrying around Hawkins High. Without making any indication he’d seen Steve jump, Eddie flips the lunchbox open with a flick of his wrist and begins ‘searching’ through it.

“Here,” he says, tossing a small bag towards him, forcing Steve to fumble the bag in the air a few times before properly catching it. “I got some papers if you need to buy them too” he continues, not once lifting his head.

“So, um, I know this is going to sound stupid but...” he drifts off, feeling incredibly dumb. He’s had weed before but that was before the Russian truth serum, before he lost Tommy as a friend. Before he’d graduated. “I don’t know how to roll these, man,” he says with a small embarrassed huff he hopes comes across more like humour rather than embarrassment. “So, I was, you know, hoping we could maybe smoke together?” He finishes with an uncertain lilt in his voice.

For all his faults, Steve had never tried hard drugs of his own volition, and he couldn’t exactly tell Eddie he was scared to have a bad trip alone, if weed somehow reacted differently now. He couldn’t tell Eddie that his excuse was only part of the reason he wanted to smoke with him.

A harsh snort shakes him out of his thoughts. “Ah, the king never had to roll his own joints? I can show you how to roll them, Harrington, but what makes you think we’re buddy buddy enough to smoke together?”

Steve’s stomach drops like a pit. He knew he’d fucked up. That he’d waited too long to call, to go over and talk if he saw either of the Munsons. To simply thank them for their kindness when he hadn’t been okay. He’d fucking done it again. Buried his feelings so deep that he’d ignored everything around him. Like he did with Nancy, with Barb. He killed her after all by being selfish and horny. By leaving her alone and not making sure she got home safe. 

He was bullshit.

He drops his head to hopefully look less pathetic. To hide his obvious devastation at his rejection. “O-oh, sorry. I’ll just go then. Didn’t mean to disturb you. I’ll make sure I come back during your business hours next time. Sorry. I, I’m sorry.” He says, pulling out the money and placing it on the table. Not bothering to count out the exact amount and hoping that it’s enough. He just needs to leave before he spirals more. 

Before he’s able to reach the door, Eddie’s arm tugs him back slightly.

“Hey, wait.” Eddie says, pulling him further back into the room. “I-” He pauses, looking around, almost as if he’s trying to decide something, “I still have to roll your joints. You can come sit on the couch with me while I show you.” He says more certainly, gesturing for Steve to follow him.

He does, slowly sitting and trying to take as little space as possible. He knows he’s not not a small guy but his skin feels wrong. Too tight in a maddening sort of way.

Eddie reaches over, taking the bag of weed Steve had been holding loosely this whole time. His skilful fingers quickly begin to roll the joint in a way that is so fluid, it's clearly second nature to him. Eddie clears his throat awkwardly.

“So, you look like shit, Harrington. What caused you to call me so suddenly? You’ve clearly been doing your best to avoid us trailer trash.” He says, apprehension clear in his voice.

And suddenly Steve can do nothing but let a torrent of apologies spew from his mouth. He’s apologising for everything, anything. He has no idea what he’s saying but he can’t stop. A dam has been broken somewhere, and he can’t get the words out fast enough. At this point, he’s not even sure if his words are comprehendible. But he can’t stop. He’s done so much harm to everyone around him that he shouldn’t be surprised that Eddie had gone back to calling him Harrington. He’d caught it after the first couple of times and each time it broke him just a little more than the last. No wonder his parents wouldn’t- couldn’t love him, he was weak. Too weak to protect everyone, too stupid for the Harrington name to actually mean anything. Too stupid to realise Hopper had been where he was meant to be instead.

Dead.

Warm arms embrace him in a crushing hug. Tears cloud his vision as he slowly comes back to himself yet is unable to stop the heavy sobs that wrack his body.

“Shh, Shh, Stevie. I get it now. I understand. You’re okay. It’s okay.” Eddie soothes. Speaking slowly but clearly in his deep baritone voice that Steve hadn’t had the chance to hear in such a long time. A hand begins to stroke his hair, making him melt fully into Eddie’s embrace.

They sit there, Eddie never once loosening his grip until his tears finally begin to slow.

He feels like a sponge that has been violently wrung out and carelessly thrown to the side. He sniffles, desperate to avoid more of his snot and tears getting on Eddie’s shirt.

Eddie’s still carding his fingers through his hair, occasionally scratching his scalp in a soothing manner. It’s nice but he knows he needs to leave before Eddie feels obligated to do anything else. He’s already let him cry all over his shoulder, how much lower could he sink before his kindness gives out?

He sniffles again, desperately keeping a new wave of tears at bay. “I-I’ll wash your shirt for you. Sorry, man,” he mumbles, still buried in the crook of Eddie’s neck.

He doesn’t respond straight away, instead giving him a squeeze and gently begins to pull Steve away from him.

Steve wants to resist but lets himself get propped up. “It’s just a shirt, Stevie. I don’t care if it gets dirty if I am able to bring you some reassurance when you’re clearly not okay.” He says, wiping away some errant tears with the bottom of his shirt, almost as if he’s trying to solidify his point in real time.

“I just, I haven’t seen you in so long and the first thing I do is blubber all over you.” He says, trying to straighten up and look more put together.

“Don’t do that, man.” Eddie says decisively.

Steve’s eyes dart to him, “Don’t do what?” He questions. He genuinely has no idea what Eddie is talking about. Did he do something wrong in the time it took for Eddie to stop touching him?

Eddie huffs, rolling his eyes in exasperation. “I mean, don’t just shrug off what happened. You’re allowed to not be fine and steep in your emotions. I’m not going to tear you apart just for being human.”

Steve can do nothing but gape at him. No one had ever told Steve that he could just exist without playing a role at all times. Or putting him in one before he had the chance to figure out if he even wanted it. No one had ever told him he could simply just... be.

His breath shudders, chest growing tight as a jumble of emotions well up. It’s a confusing mess of relief, sorrow and anxiety, all battling to the forefront of his mind.

He doesn’t know how to just be. Who really is Steve Harrington if he’s not the protector. The babysitter. The ex-king of Hawkins high who couldn’t even get into college. Who got dropped by his parents as soon as he was able to sufficiently use the stove. Who was he if not someone who was just surviving day to day in a fucked up world of monsters and grief.

Who is Steve Harrington?

His shoulders sag. He’d never thought about it before but what was he actually living for? All his hopes pinned on Robin and the kids getting into college while he was, what? Just going to stay in a dead-end job his whole life?

He lets out a breath, his breath coming out unevenly. He’s desperate to control his emotions. To wrestle them back into their box and push it all down. Down where they won’t be able to resurface for a long time.

Steve drags his hands up his face, they tremble violently as he anchors them in his hair.  Methodically he takes in and holds his breath before letting it go again.

And again.

And again.

And-

“I don’t know if you should have drugs right now, Stevie,” Eddie says in a placating voice, breaking the silence that had been stretching as Steve composed himself.

His head whips up, ready to protest that he needs it for sleep. That it’s his last resort to his involuntary nightmare induced insomnia, when he’s suddenly dragged off the couch. Stumbling, he realises the little bag isn’t in his hands anymore. That it hasn’t been for a while. He has no idea where it’s gone or if Eddie took it sometime during his breakdown.

He’s so confused about the lead up to these events but can’t quite seem to care when he’s being dragged through the trailer, moving closer and closer to Eddie’s room.

“Come on, we can just sleep in my bed.” Eddie says, pulling him past the threshold of his room. It’s exactly as he’d last seen it, if not a bit more unkempt. The familiar chaos causes his entire body to sag. He doesn’t know how or why, but seeing this barely changed room makes him relax in a way his own room never could make him.

His whole body is heavy. But he can’t shake the lingering fear of sleep.

His hand slips out of Eddies, as his legs refuse to move any further. He can’t. He can’t sleep here and let Eddie see how damaged he is. How he’s become a wreck every time he’s faced with the prospect of his memories twisting in cruel and unforgiving ways.

Eddie must see his hesitation as he holds out his hand for Steve to take. “Promise I’ll shake you awake if you start having a nightmare.” Eddie wiggles his fingers, beckoning him forward. “Do you trust me?” He asks, a small but sincere smile playing on his lips.

With Eddie’s gaze warmly encouraging him, Steve can do nothing to refuse Eddie’s hand. Finally making the last few steps towards the bed where he is guided into the spot he slept last time.

In some pavlovian response, as soon as his head hits the pillow, his limbs become increasingly heavier. Mind dragging him further and further towards sleep.

It isn’t until Eddie’s warm body tucks up along his and pulls the covers snug over them both that he finally lets go.

Lets himself drift knowing that Eddie will keep him safe and warm.

The last thing he registers is Eddie brushing hair out of his face, softly wishing him a good night’s sleep.

~~~

Eddie can’t quite believe his turn of events.

One moment he’d been peacefully listening to a Dio album while pouring over some notes for his next campaign when the phone abruptly brought him out of his flow.

After a few rings, he finally rolls off his bed and grabs the phone.

“Hello?”

He knows that if Wayne were here, he’d smack him over the head for answering the phone like this, but Wayne was at work at the moment, so no one was here to tell him to be polite.

Heavy breathing was the only sign someone was on the other line.

The silence stretched.

“If this is a prank call, I’m hanging up.” He was so not racking up their phone bill for a group of highschoolers who thought it’d be funny to prank the freak.

He began to move the phone away from his ear when a voice desperately rang out. “No! Don’t hang up. It’s, it’s Steve... Harrington. I know you probably don’t want to talk to me, and I’d fully get if you hang up after this but I just need you to know I’m really sorry, man.”

Holy shit. Had Eddie heard correctly?

“Steve?” Eddie finally says. “Hey, I thought we were never going to hear from you. What’s going on?” He says, concern clear in his voice.

Sure, the guy had ghosted him and his uncle, but his voice sounded weird. Strangled in a way that wasn’t quite natural. Had he had another accident? He can’t quite decide if he’s too angry to be properly worried right now. Something to ponder once Steve has left?

There’s a pause before Steve answers.

“So, I,” Steve clears his throat. “I haven’t really been sleeping, man. And ah, I know this is really embarrassing after all this time but...” he trails off.

Jesus H Christ please let him not be beat up again. He doesn’t want to have to go round two of playing nurse again if he’s just tripped over or something. Or gotten another concussion. Doesn’t Steve have actual friends?

“But I need some weed.” Steve says. 

Eddie’s thoughts grind to a halt.

Of course.

Of course Steve only called to sample his wares. To score a sweet bit of Mary Jane at what he probably hopes is a reduced price.

Well he’s shit out of luck if he thinks that’s going to happen. He isn’t above dolling out his usual asshole jock tax. 

He lets out a breath he’s been holding since he realised Steve was on the phone. “I can get that for you, Harrington. When did you want to come and grab it?” He asks, keeping all emotion out of his voice now.

If Harrington expected warm smiles and it being sunshine and rainbows, he was sorely mistaken.

“Well does- does tonight work?” A hint of desperation is clear in his voice. Eddie pushed all concern he had to the back of his mind.

He held the receiver away from his face, snorting at himself for almost agreeing straight away because of how eager Harrington sounded.

No.

He refused to care. He would not be made a fool for a second time.

Harrington was clearly just another client who wanted to get high on his stock. 

“Sure, I’m free right now. you remember which trailer we live at, right?” He said, deliberately making a dig at his avoidance of them. If Harrington thought they hadn’t noticed he’d be wrong.

“Of course I do. I’ll be there in 10.” Steve says before abruptly hanging up.

The phone line beeps its disconnected tone a few times before Eddie realises what’s happened.

Shit, he should probably at least pull on some pants if Harrington is going to speed to get here.

Before long a car's headlights appear through the window.

He gets up, ready to swing the door open as soon as he hears the steps creak. To dramatically swing it open with his usual flare. His usual armour of the goofy trailer park freak. Only to be met with silence.

After a minute, he decides to peek out the window, only to see Harrington, blankly staring off to the side.

That was weird, right?

Was he deciding whether to leave or not? Had he decided that he actually didn’t need the freaks stash after all? That he wasn’t actually desperate enough to associate himself with trailer trash?

Apprehensively, Eddie continued to stare.

It was getting weird. Harrington hadn’t moved since he’d started watching and it was starting to make him concerned.

Damn his bleeding heart.

Swinging the door open to the muggy air of summer, he stomps towards the car. If Harrington was going to speed off now, Eddie at least didn’t want to startle him in the process and get run over. That would be an interesting story to tell Wayne.

Closer up, Eddie could see that he had a white knuckled grip on the steering wheel. Still gazing off into nothing.

Finally, after standing there for probably too long, he taps on the window.

“Hey, Harrington. You dead in there? You’ve been sat here for a solid five minutes.” He says, desperately trying to keep his voice level.

He looks like shit. Damn, what had he been up to since Eddie last saw him?

Oh well, now that he had his attention, he gestured for Steve to follow, refusing to look back to check if he was following. He’d be a bit peeved if the dude decided to book it now, but he heard the telltale crunch of gravel as Harrington silently followed.

Once he enters the trailer, he’s not quite sure what overtakes him, anger and injustice bubbling under his skin. That Harrington had just casually appeared as if it’s nothing looking worse for wear.

Eddie hates that he’s out of the loop. That they got close during his stay here and then only reappeared in his life to buy fucking drugs.

He bangs his lunchbox on the table harder than intended. Refusing to return the other man's gaze as he flips the lunchbox open with enough flair to still feel in control.

“Here,” he says, tossing a random baggy to Steve. He infuriatingly catches it with minimum fumble. 

He wants to scream.

He hates jocks. He hates how high and mighty they all are about being able to simply catch a ball. He hates that even looking like shit, Steve still has those stupid jock reflexes that mean he can’t help but catch whatever has been thrown at him. 

“I got some papers if you need to buy them too.” He forces out, refusing to look Harrington in the eye. He’s just waiting for him to pay and leave, to get out of this interaction as soon as he can. He doesn’t even know why he asked if Harrington had papers.

But Harrington doesn’t move. Instead, his feet shuffle on the carpet, making the floorboards beneath squeak.

“So, um, I know this is going to sound stupid but... I don’t know how to roll these, man. So, I was, you know, hoping we could maybe smoke together?” Harrington says with a condescending huff.

 Did he think Eddie was stupid? Did he seriously just want to be fawned over? Eddie was dumb, but he wasn’t dumb enough to think Harrington wanted to actually be his friend anymore. No, he was clearly after a discount.

A harsh snort rips itself from his throat. “Ah, the king never had to roll his own joints? I can show you how to roll them, Harrington, but what makes you think we’re buddy buddy enough to smoke together?” He says sarcastically, a feral grin starting to form on his face. No way Harrington was getting what he wanted. Not after looking after his sorry ass without even a parting thank you to his uncle.

He finally looks up, just in time to see Harrington’s head and shoulders droop in a way that makes him look like a kicked puppy.

“O-oh, sorry. I’ll just go then. Didn’t mean to disturb you. I’ll make sure I come back during your business hours next time. Sorry. I, I’m sorry.” Steve says, pulling out a wad of money, not even counting it before placing it on the table. Just from here he could see that it was too much.

His grin instantly turns into a frown.

That wasn’t right. He was supposed to fight back. To whine. To do anything to make him change his mind. What was he playing at?

Before he could think, Eddie caught his arm before he could retreat any further.

“Hey, wait.” Eddie says, pulling him further back into the room. Oh fuck. He didn’t have a plan. “I-” he pauses, looking around, wracking his brain for some sort of excuse to keep the other man here longer, finally settling on the bag of weed still clutched to Harrington's chest. “I still have to roll your joints. You can come sit on the couch with me while I show you.” He says deliberately letting go of Harrington’s arm to gesture towards the couch.

As soon as they’re seated, he quickly plucks the bag and begins rolling. The movement is like second nature to him now. The repetitiveness helping his brain to calm down and actually assess the situation.

He doesn’t like what he finds.

Steve looks bad. Really bad. His hair is limp, greasy in a way he’s never seen it before. Taking in his face, it’s impossible to miss the massive dark bags beneath his eyes, making them sunken and his skin dull. No longer full of life they were last time he saw him. Even with a busted face he looked better than he does now. What had happened to him?

Eddie clears his throat awkwardly.  “So, you look like shit, Harrington. What made you call me so suddenly? You’ve clearly been doing your best to avoid us trailer trash.” He says, voice coming out harsher than intended.

He can’t help it. He’s been too mad. Too confused to even attempt to lower his guard again. But before he can maybe ask in a nicer tone, say literally anything else, Harrington beats him to it.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry I fucked up. I’m sorry I avoided you and Wayne. I- I’m sorry. I got too in my head, got too self-conscious about what you both might think about me. I swear I didn’t mean to avoid you at first. I was going to call, to come and thank Wayne for helping me when he had no reason to. I even made a cake. But I’m too chicken shit and couldn’t. Every damn time I reached for the phone or saw either of you my body shut down. I don’t know why man and- and-” He took a gulp of air. “And I keep having these nightmares. I can’t escape, I can’t do anything useful and I just- it’s the same feeling. I feel hopeless and helpless and all I can do is run or, or hide.

Steve’s face crumbles, massive teardrops begin rolling down his face. His voice is wet, beginning to garble and slur his words but he keeps going.

“I’m so sorry for waiting too long. For making you think I didn’t want to be around you or Wayne. I probably still wouldn’t have called if I could sleep. It’s getting worse, I’m getting worse and I just want it to end. To sleep. To wake up normally and not screaming. I shouldn’t be surprised that you reacted coldly to me. I deserve it after all. Big house and no parents to pester me is great, right? No one to tell me no when I held massive raggers, no one to tell me off for underage drinking. No one to see my constant fuck ups, right? I’ve lived so long without people around me who care that with just a little bit of kindness and good I shrink away from it.

His face takes on a small empty smile.

“I’m too weak to protect anyone, too stupid. I’m a horrible person, not worth any compassion. I’m the one that should have died at Starcourt. Not Hopper. I’m just bullshit.”

Shit shit no. 

Eddie lunges towards him, tugging him into a crushing embrace. Steve’s shoulders shake as heavy sobs finally escape his throat.

Eddie hadn’t- couldn’t have known. But he feels immeasurably guilty now.

Here Steve was, feeling like the social status quo no longer allowed him to approach him or Wayne, and Eddie had proven him right. He’d been so wrapped up in his own feelings that he had deliberately ignored what was obviously in front of him tonight. 

Ignored every signal. 

Jesus H. Christ. He’d been so wrong. Eddie had judged him on the bullshit that didn’t matter, like how he acted in school two years ago, rather than judging him on that week where they actually got to know each other.

“Shh, Shh Stevie. I get it now. I understand. You’re okay. It’s okay.” Eddie soothes. Without thinking, he does the only thing his mother could do to calm him down as a kid and begins to run his fingers through Steve’s hair.

It’s oily as he predicted and slightly damp. For someone who was regularly nicknamed ‘the hair’, it was a massive indicator to Eddie how much Steve had been struggling to stay afloat without sleep. Without comfort at night. Without someone like Wayne who had always been Eddie’s rock to be there when he slept.

His fingers keep getting tangled on knots from a slight build-up of product, but it doesn’t deter him. Instead, choosing to lightly massage his scalp, causing a still crying and snuffling Steve goes limp in his arms.

He’ll do anything to correct how he’d acted over the past few weeks. He should have approached Steve. Should have talked to Robin Buckley from band. Or even just tried to be a better human being today when he saw Steve out in his car, having what must have been a mini break down.

Either way, he refuses to let his grip falter until Steve, still buried in the crook of Eddie’s neck, mumbles “I-I’ll wash your shirt for you. Sorry, man.”

It takes a moment for Eddie to comprehend what Steve had just said. What did his shirt have anything to do with this?

Softly, he brings Steve out of their embrace, giving his shoulders a squeeze when he makes an unconscious noise of protest.

Slowly, he cups one side of Steve’s face, forcing him to meet Eddie’s eyes. Something akin to shame pools in them before Steve glances away. 

“It’s just a shirt, Stevie.” He says, brushing a few stray tears with the bottom of his shirt “I don’t care if it gets dirty if I am able to bring you some reassurance when you’re clearly not okay.”

He needs to get it in Steve’s brain that he can’t inconvenience Eddie. There’s just no way that his bleeding heart would allow Steve to apologise for the most menial things such as a dirty shirt.

Steve straightens slightly, pawing at his shirt in some feeble attempt to look presentable and put together. As if his red rimmed eyes weren’t a dead giveaway. “I just, I haven’t seen you in so long and the first thing I do is blubber all over you.” He shrugged.

“Don’t do that, man.” Eddie says decisively, dropping his hand from Steve’s face. Enough is enough.

Steve’s eyes snap to him, “Don’t do what?” He questions.

It looks like he genuinely has no idea what Eddie is talking about. Doesn’t realise that his rich deadbeat parents’ manners don’t work here. That Eddie can see through the deflection, the false smiles and dead eyes. You can’t have that big a break down and just smile and joke it away. Lock it up again until it all spills out at the worst moment. 

Shit, Eddie has seen enough people hide who they are, tucking themselves away in little boxes not to notice the obvious signs in Steve. The loneliness, the constant jokes aimed at himself to lessen the blows when others joke about his smarts, looks, and oh wow it’s so nice to have this big house all to yourself.

No. Enough was enough.   

Eddie huffs, rolling his eyes in exasperation. “I mean, don’t just shrug off what happened. You’re allowed to not be fine and steep in your emotions. I’m not going to tear you apart just for being human.”

Steve’s eyes go wide with something Eddie isn’t able to identify and then slowly, his facial expression crumples. His shoulders sag, breathing shuddering in an effort to hold back more tears.

Shit did he say something wrong? Did his big mouth just get him in trouble again?

Slowly but surely Steve’s breathing starts to tick up.

Shit shit shit shit. What should he do? What can he do?

Steve drags his hands up his face, they tremble violently as he anchors them in his hair and begins to methodically do the breathing exercise Eddie had shown him to calm himself.

Shit, Eddie had almost forgotten he’d taught Steve that. How often does he use it? How often does Steve need to calm himself down on the brink of a panic attack?

Oh fuck, he came here for drugs. Eddie knew weed, and despite what he liked to preach, it wasn’t the cure for everything. Certainly not the cure for the come down of a breakdown.

Stupidly, Eddie hears his own voice cut through the silence. “I don’t know if you should have drugs right now, Stevie.” His tone, thankfully still low enough that it comes out calming rather than demanding.

Nonetheless, Steve’s head still whips up, clearly trying to muster the strength to fight him on this but Eddie was having none of it.

Before Steve has a chance to utter anything, Eddie is tugging his hand and pulling him forward, off the couch and to his room.

“Come on, we can just sleep in my bed.” Eddie says, pulling Steve past the threshold of his room.

They’d slept together for close to a week and it’d been nice. Despite it being for such a short amount of time, Steve’s body had left an imprint of where he’d slept of Eddie. It felt right for him to be back in his arms and he hoped against all hopes that it would help Steve again. Maybe Steve had naturally tired himself out already, maybe Eddie’s body against his would help him calm down again.

Either way, Eddie was happy to have him back, despite how their conversation started.

Just as they reach the bed, he hears Steve’s breath hitch and his hand slips out of Eddies.

He turns to see Steve rooted to the spot, face pale just staring as if his bed is a mimic in disguise.

Telegraphing his movements he slowly extends his hand for Steve to take, wiggling his fingers slightly to get his attention.

Once they make eye contact he smiles as sincerely as he can convey, “Promise I’ll shake you awake if you start having a nightmare.” Eddie wiggles his fingers with purpose now, beckoning him forward. “Do you trust me?”

He can see something like decisiveness appear in Steve’s eyes as he finally steps forward, sliding under the bedsheet into his spot where he’d slept a month ago.

Eddie’s chest goes tight. He can’t fuck this up like last time. He needs to help Steve however he can, to get a good night’s sleep.

Slowly he slides in next to Steve, pulling him backwards slightly so their bodies are flush against one another. Beside him, he can feel Steve letting his muscles go. Sinking deeply into Eddie’s bed.

Carefully, Eddie tucks the covers more snuggly around them, attempting to cocoon Steve so he’ll be snug against Eddie’s side. Eddie’s a naturally light sleeper so if Steve makes any sudden movements he’ll be able to be there to calm him down. 

Steve gives an almost delirious giggle. “I haven't been tucked in since I was a kid,” he says wistfully. He does a weird shimmy before settling down properly, causing his hair to flop over his eyes and Eddie, without thinking, tucked it behind his ear. 

Steve gives him a small genuine but tired smile before succumbing to sleep.  

Steve’s breath evens out, but Eddie is unable to sleep. He adjusts the blanket again and combs Steve’s fringe back from his face with his fingers, gently pressing a kiss to Steve’s forehead after he’s done.

He’d been a coward by being pissy at him, but now he could see Steve needed someone to show up, to not let him avoid feeling vulnerable. To be active in Steve’s life and let him take the brunt of some of the bad days. To be there when Steve inevitably needs a shoulder to cry on.  

He might not have seen it before, but he’d genuinely started thinking Steve was a friend and had acted pissy when he thought it wasn’t reciprocated. Hey, at the very least they could be smoke buddies, right? They could hang out and get high and maybe cuddle each other to sleep. If Steve said it might help, then no way was Eddie getting in his way.

Finally, he could feel sleep dragging him under. He double checked Steve to see if he was asleep only to be greeted with his mouth adorably hanging open. Eddie gives him a quick squeeze in comfort and finally began to drift off.

Hopefully they’d be able to talk more later.

...

His eyes snap open violently. 

Oh shit.

Oh Shit.

Did he just kiss Steve Harrington on the forehead?

Chapter Text

It had been several months since the conversation where Steve’s complete and utter breakdown in Eddie’s arms had unexpectedly bonded them together. The sweltering heat of summer had long been whisked away and transformed into the crisp, cool weather of Autumn.

They’d become regular smoke buddies, and it had quickly become one of the highlights of Steve’s life when he wasn’t working the morning shift the next day. Being able to just lay with Eddie and share a joint back and forth while talking about nothing and everything just felt right. How he had avoided Eddie for a whole month was a mystery to him, he would not- could not ever do that again.

Every time he saw Eddie’s goofy smile, he felt a fondness in his chest that refused to go away. So instead, he just pushed it to the back of his head, ever present yet only ever brought out and examined on the loneliest of nights when he’s unable to even get to sleep. Every so often he’d run his fingers through his hair, imagining they were slender with chunky rings on them instead of his own thick fingers.

To his delight and semi-horror, Eddie had made a permanent spot in his bed for him whenever he needed a break from his ever-present nightmares. He’d originally tried to limit his time there, but his late night/early morning visits became more frequent and he was now at the Munson’s place often enough that he felt like his body had made a permanent imprint of where he slept in Eddie’s bed.

He didn’t really know why that pleased him so much. He put that in the same corner as the grin and fingers.

Slowly but surely, they’d built a trust between them with Steve even including Eddie in the party’s movie nights. It’d been awkward at first, but the kids quickly changed their tune and were thrilled when they realised Eddie was also into their silly nerd game. They’d been unwilling to let Eddie DM their first game after the Byers departure, in respect to Will’s wish for them not to play with a new party just yet, instead quickly accepting Eddie’s druid into their game, declaring proudly that he was now an official member of the party.

While Eddie staunchly refused that title, he did invite the kids to Hellfire the next year to their utter delight. When asked why he was still running it, Eddie had simply stated that he’d be repeating next year as a super super senior, so he’d be continuing as Hellfire’s DM.

Of course he’d later admitted to Steve over a joint that it hurt to feel inferior to the people who just understood school. That he’d put a brave face on in front of the kiddo’s but that failing senior year again had made his stomach sink. Having to break the news to Uncle Wayne that he’d failed again had been terrifying. He explained that remembering to hand stuff in on time was a struggle, even if he had done the assignments. That the teachers hated him, so they never gave him any leeway with dates and staunchly refused to give him extra assignments to make up his grade. Providing no assistance even if he did need help.

It made Steve remember every single time his teachers had given him extensions over the weekend so he could go to competitions, how that treatment has petered off after he quit swimming and basketball. He remembered one time after Billy had beaten him bloody where he got scolded for his paper being too messy, even though it had never mattered before. Excuse him for writing it with a concussion and one working eye.  

In the early hours of that morning, Steve almost silently told Eddie how he couldn’t understand how people could read with ease. That the words in books moving all over the page made it extremely difficult to read, even worse now with the aftereffects of the concussions he got each year. That reading made him have headaches for days now, and it was next to impossible for him to read more than a page at a time without wanting to throw up. It made him sad he couldn’t talk about Dustin’s favourite series with him, despite actually trying to give it a go.

Eddie had startled Steve by suddenly leaping out of bed and exclaiming that he’d love to read the Lord of the Rings books to him and not being one to burst Eddie's excitement, he agreed, chuckling at the exaggerated fist pump Eddie was doing in celebration.

He was not surprised when Eddie's voice had sucked him into this fictional world. Eddie had such a nice voice, husky yet smooth in a way that was hard to describe. With each new character introduced, he’d read the characters differently, showing Steve exactly the range his voice had, leaving no doubt in his head that Eddie was a natural born storyteller. It helped Steve understand what was actually happening at first, and then he just felt drawn into the world Eddie had expertly woven around him. Soon enough Steve was practically coming over daily to smoke and read, eager to find out what was happening next to the hobbits.

Robin had unfortunately missed Eddie's first movie night appearance and yet Steve’s concerns and anxiousness about Robin and Eddie not getting along had clearly been unfounded. As soon as they made eye contact, they’d shared a nod of understanding and an odd gesture and began to laugh. To his annoyance, both of them still refused to teach him what that gesture meant, instead, instantly ganging up on him to the point he almost wished their friendship had started rockier.

Almost but not really. He loved both of them, and the way they acted so comfortably around him and each other made him feel at ease. It was like he had friends who actually cared about him for the first time instead of his wealth and empty house. Like they liked him for him and not the image he’d constantly kept in high school. Like he hadn't ruined their lives by existing in their orbit yet, even despite the horrors he’d unwittingly dragged Robin into.

He had no doubt she shared nightmares of Starcourt like him. He’d seen how pale she’d gone the first time they’d tried to watch an arty Russian black and white film together. She had practically frozen, unable to even breathe while he’d launched himself at the VHS player, very nearly pulling the entire system out of the cabinet.

They’d huddled together, shaking for an undetermined amount of time on his uncomfortable couch, just waiting for the memories to stop drowning them.

She’d gone home after that, despite Steve’s protests and he’d scurried off to Eddie’s like he always does, like he’s doing now.

Here he was again. In Eddie’s bed. In Eddie’s arms, feeling floaty with a combination of weed and being held.

He didn’t have the words to explain why he loved being held like this so often now. Sometimes he thought he hadn’t been held enough as a child. Why else would he melt every single time Eddie cradles him or initiates even a simple hug? It was maddening each time Eddie would eventually pull away, whether it was in the mornings after he’d stayed the night or one of their smoke sessions where they would hug and just generally sit close.

But it wasn’t enough anymore.

He felt so cold without Eddie’s constant touch in a way he’d never felt before. It felt like he was constantly slowly drowning until Eddie would casually rest his arm on Steve’s or brush his shoulder. For that split second Steve’s lungs would expand, and he’d finally come up for air he didn’t even know he had been losing.

Tonight, he decided he would make it impossible for Eddie to leave him wanting, to pull away unless he was actually uncomfortable.  

He’s not entirely sure how he did it, but with a confidence he had willed from deep within him, Steve had firmly placed himself between Eddie’s legs, back to his chest. Wrapping Eddie’s arms loosely around his own.

His heart pounded the entire time. Waiting for Eddie to tense up or pull away.

Eddie made a startled noise but quickly settled into the position as if they’d always sat like that, giving him a quick squeeze that did something to Steve’s heart before grabbing his personal stash from his bedside drawer.

It may be the new angle he’s sitting but Steve catches a glance of a box of condoms, clearly hurriedly thrown and forgotten in the drawer.

Does Eddie fuck? They’d never talked about girls before and Steve wonders if the other man has simply been showing compassion by never bringing up that he could get a girl with his looks easier than the former king. An ugly feeling wells up in his stomach, one he’s unable to identify but will surely overthink later.

Unaware of Steve’s inner turmoil, Eddie passes the now lit joint to Steve as he shifts them both slightly to grab his worn copy of ‘The Return of the King’. He waits for Steve to take a puff and then slowly begins reading.

“He is weary now, and grieved, and he has taken a hurt like the Lady Éowyn, daring to smite that deadly thing. But these evils can be amended, so strong and gay a spirit is in him. His grief he will not forget; but it will not darken his heart, it will teach him wisdom.”

He pauses to take another pull, and to Steve’s surprise, Eddie grips his wrist where he’s still loosely holding the joint and takes a drag directly from Steve’s fingers. Steve’s brain blanks as the feeling of Eddie’s lips brushing along his skin makes him shiver.

Eddie takes a moment to hold the smoke in his lungs before continuing, as if nothing has happened.

“Then Aragorn laid his hand on Merry’s head, and passing his hand gently through the brown curls, he touched the eyelids, and called him by name. And when the fragrance of athelas stole through the room, like the scent of orchards and of heather in the sunshine...”

Eddie continues reading for a while and Steve eventually completely relaxes, becoming enthralled by the story. Eddie’s voice is smooth and velvety in a way that makes Steve unable to concentrate on anything else when he hears it. Now familiar with the characters, the voices for each character in his books make it feel like Steve could close his eyes and see the action happening right in front of him.

Books had never made him feel like this before, the words and sentences would slip through his brain without registering what was going on and as a result he’d kept a low C average in all his classes throughout high school.  

His father would call him stupid.

His mother would call him challenged.

Nancy had called him Dyslexic but had never elaborated on what that meant, before ruthlessly calling him bullshit at Tina’s party.

But Eddie was different. He had affectionately laughed off his reluctance to read and had suggested reading aloud to him instead. As if it was nothing. As if he enjoyed seeing Steve’s reaction to his way of storytelling.  

Steve presses the lightly damp end of the joint to his lips, brought back to reality for just a moment before sinking back into the story.

The combination of weed and Eddie’s storytelling make Steve feel heavy and relaxed.

Just as he’s about to drift off, Eddie shifts again. Carefully he dogears the page they’re on and places the book back on his bedside table. Eddie clicks off the lamp that had been their only source of light for their smoke session.

Steve’s mind drifts as Eddie shuffles them into a more comfortable sleeping position.

He hadn't been on a date in ages but feels no need to pay attention to women for some reason. He feels weirdly content for the first time in this one month of hanging out with Eddie and it clearly showed when he stopped trying to reel in the women of Hawkens.

Robin had even threatened to bring back the You Suck board from Starcourt but had complained that he’s not even trying anymore. Apparently, he was no fun anymore. With how many times Steve had been clueless about a girl flirting with him, he was inclined to agree.

With Eddie snuggled at his back, only having flipped them to make it more comfortable to sleep, Steve felt slightly emboldened to ask about the potential girl Eddie was seeing.

It’s weird, but Steve had always been braver in the dark. More inclined to ask questions that may be dumb or flay him open.

He doesn’t really know where this particular question came from, but he’s unable to resist asking.

“Have you ever been in love?” he asks. Reminiscing about the question Robin asked him on the nasty Starcourt bathroom floor while the world was ending.

Idiot. Eddie doesn’t want to talk about his love life with Steve. It’s not something they’d ever discussed before. Not even when Steve had told him about Robin's board.

Silence fills the room, and Steve almost convinces himself that Eddie must have already gone to sleep before he quietly breathes, “Yes, I have.”

For just a moment, his mind is entirely encompassed with static. He doesn’t know why this question had caused him to freeze up or why there’s a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach.

Unwittingly he opens his mouth again.

“Are you still in love with them?”

He feels incredibly stupid for asking questions he knows might intrinsically hurt him. He doesn’t know why but it might break his heart if Eddie answers yes. If Eddie can hold someone else like he does Steve. Potentially protecting them from nightmares and other things that go bump in the night.

Is Steve taking that person's place at this very moment? Involuntarily not allowing them to be alone?

Eddie’s next words snap him out of his spiralling thoughts.

“Yes, but it’ll never work.” There’s a bitter tone to Eddie’s voice that Steve can’t help latching onto. Horribly the pit in his stomach lifts just a little, making Steve feel incredibly guilty.

Furrowing his brow he asks, “why?” It doesn’t make sense “I’m sure if you told them they’d say yes. You’re a fun guy to be around and you look alight too.”

Eddie snorts.

“Jee, thanks Stevie. Giving me such a confidence booster there.”

Steve rolls his eyes but can’t help the grin that stretches across his own face at hearing Eddie’s laughter.

“You know what I mean. Why don’t you think it’d work?” He asks, not sure if he’s actually crossing boundaries now. For some reason words just slip out around Eddie without Steve’s input.

The room falls silent, only the sound of their shared breathing filling the space.

Oh shit, did he actually mess up? Eddie was normally super open to answering Steve’s dumb questions, but Eddie could just tell him to fuck off right now. Tell him to mind his own business and he’d completely be in the right.

He opens his mouth to say something, anything, before Eddie breaks the silence with a sigh.

“It can’t work because...” his voice trails off.

Steve attempts to turn and face Eddie but the other man tightens his grip around his middle, making it impossible to move. To see his face.

Whatever Eddie may or may not be about to tell him hangs heavily in the air, growing and stretching into an uncomfortable silence. He can hear Eddie’s uneven breathing behind him. Out of sync from his own in an entirely unnatural way.

“Whatever it is, you don’t have to tell me Eddie.” He tries to say reassuringly. He needs to make this right “Only if you want -”

Eddie cuts him off hurriedly. “It’s because I’m gay. That’s why I know it won’t work.”

Steve properly bluescreens.

Had the weed made him hear Eddie incorrectly? He thought the weed had started wearing off a little by now but maybe it was having one last valiant try within his system.

His thoughts snap back into focus when Eddie’s grip on him loosens reflexively. Steve can hear Eddie breathing unevenly in his ear and can actively feel Eddie’s heart hammering against his spine as they’re still plastered together. Steve comes to the stark realisation that Eddie is probably frozen in fear, just waiting for Steve to react negatively and decides that he doesn’t care. But he’s wrong. Steve doesn’t care that Eddie is gay. That he’s a man who likes men. Eddie’s no different for liking men than Robin is for liking women.

A sudden thought occurs to him.

“Why do people always come out to me high?” he bemoans.

Oh fuck, did he say that out loud?

Eddie’s breathing stutters.

There’s a long pregnant pause where Eddie finally rolls Steve over so they’re face to face. Practically nose to nose.

“Are you talking about Robin?” Eddie asks, clearly startled. Searching Steve’s face for something.

But Steve can’t think about that now.

Shit.

Shit.

Shit.

He can’t out Robin like this.

“Robin has kissed at least five guys, she told me” He declares, chest puffing out in, what he hopes passes for confidence.

Eddie cocks his head, giving him an utter look of disbelief.

Steve eyes dart away from Eddie’s face immediately, oh fuck, Eddie doesn’t believe him. He needs to come up with something to keep Robin out of trouble. “But you don’t know them, they go to a school in...”

He begins sweating.

He can’t remember countries.

“Canada!”

Eddie looks at him, jaw slack and eyes wide with incredulousness.

Steve can feel his face get hot. Canada... CANADA? He can’t believe he’s so stupid to not only accidentally out Robin but to also fail so miserably at covering it up that he’s all but solidified Robin's preferences within Eddie’s brain.

Tears prick at his eyes.

Steve hasn’t cried over anything for quite a while but outing his best friend without her consent? He couldn’t help but feel a deep dread well up in him with the thought that she’d most likely stop being his friend for this.

He squeezes his eyes tight, unwilling to bear witness to Eddie’s eventual questions.

Instead, all he was met with was the sound of Eddie rolling onto his back with a deep sigh.

“I can’t believe Robin just hijacked my coming out” Eddie groans.

Steve’s eyes immediately pop open. Mouth opening to question what is going on, but Eddie clearly is not done.

“I mean, I know Robin told me about her coming out to you while under the influence, but I can’t believe you’re this bad at reassuring people Stevie.” He throws his arms up in an incredulous gesture.

“Here I am, wondering if you’ll accept me like Robin said you would and you go and put Robin back in the closet!” He turns his head, a smile spreading on his face. “Honestly Stevie, Canada?” he questions, before beginning to chuckle.

A croak comes out of Steve’s mouth as he opens and closes it, unable to utter a single word.

What in the emotional whiplash is this?

Blissfully unaware of Steve’s turmoil, Eddie continues “I mean, did you really think that was convincing at all?” he sighs contently, wiping an imaginary tear from his eye. “I really needed that man. I was almost convinced you were about to beat me up. Like, no matter what Robin kept trying to tell me, the little part in my brain would always rear its head and convince me to keep my mouth shut. But I’m really glad I finally told you.” He says, finally turning to face Steve.

Steve, who by this point had tears streaming down his face.

Unable to hold it in any longer, Steve lets out a sob and begins curling into himself, and ironically into Eddie’s chest. He was an idiot.

Eddie’s face hurriedly drops into one of concern. “Oh, wait Sweetheart, I wasn’t mocking you! I swear!” He exclaims, grabbing at Steve and quickly drawing him up into a crushing hug.

Enveloped in Eddie’s musky smell, Steve finally lets out a shuddering breath, grappling for the back of Eddie’s shirt, stretching the already worn fabric within his fists.

“I thought I had fucked up. I thought I had outed Robin,” he sobs.

 “Shhh, Shhh, Stevie. It’s okay, I already knew. I’m sorry for making fun of you. I thought she would have told you I knew.”

Steve lets out a shaky sigh of relief. “Thank God I didn’t. I don’t know what I would have done if she started hating me. If she’d given up on me because I have a big mouth and a useless brain. If she- If she-.”

“It’s okay Stevie, Robin could never hate you.” Eddie soothes, running his fingers through Steve’s hair.

The small tugs at his skull as Eddie runs his fingers through the knots in Steve’s hair send little zings down Steve’s spine, making him shiver for a completely different reason.

Goosebumps formed on his arms. To his dismay Eddie must have seen and began slowly pulling away.

Out of nowhere a high whine sounds in his throat, causing Eddie to breathily chuckle.

“Come on Stevie, let's get you comfortable” Eddie says, pulling a warm blanket around them before settling back beside Steve. Blushing, he realises that Eddie must have pulled away to grab the blanket he always kept at the end of his bed.

He ducks his head but doesn’t get very far before Eddie wraps his arms around Steve’s waist and pulls him in, only making him blush even more. Sure, he’d been the little spoon before, but they’d never slept facing each other.

He could feel little puffs of Eddie’s breath moving his hair every so often while his own head now rested at Eddie’s collarbone.

Unconsciously Steve began to snuggle even closer into Eddie’s neck, almost as if he was trying to bury under Eddie’s skin.

Steve feels drained but he can’t help pulling away slightly to look up and see Eddie’s face in the moonlight, “Sorry for ruining your coming out” he whispers, conscious that he’d accidentally never actually commented on Eddie coming out to him.

Eddie shifts slightly, leans down and pecks him on the forehead, before his fingers quickly find their way back to Steve’s hair, pulling him back into place and resumes stroking as if nothing had happened.

“It’s okay Sweetheart, you didn’t ruin anything” he says, in such a certain voice that Steve has no option but to believe him.

He stares at the other man for a second before resting his head back on Eddie’s chest, his steady, reliable heartbeat gradually lulling Steve to sleep.

Tonight may have been a whirlwind of emotions, but at least Eddie didn’t have a secret girlfriend he had to worry about.

~~~

“Ugh come on Steve” Robin whines, elongating his name like a petulant child. “You know that as a homosexual I live out my occasional heterosexual fantasies through you and you never fail to disappoint. That girl was hot, and you didn’t even look her in the face!”

Steve chuckles at her antics from his position at the counter. From here he can practically see the whole store. There’s a kid around Henderson’s age off to the side in the action section, clearly having a great deal of trouble choosing between two movies. Steve knows he should technically go over to help, but he frankly doesn’t want to. Turning back to Robin he tunes back into her rambling about his disastrous attempt at getting a date at Scoops, despite being such a ladies’ man. That hat was cursed. He’d swear by that. He knows he has a reputation but as he’d told Robin before, he just wasn’t interested right now for some reason.

He tells her as much.

Dramatically she drapes herself over the counter beside him, nearly knocking off the pile or returns Steve had neatly been stacking between them.

“Yeah, but why? You haven’t given up on your six nuggets dream right?”

He rolls his eyes, every day he feels a little bit more regret at telling her that fantasy.

“One,” he says, holding up a finger. “I literally keep telling you that no one had caught my eye. Every girl I used to choose was for social status or boredom up until Nancy. And B,” he says holding up a second finger “I finally feel content with my life for the first time since I became King Steve. I just don’t feel the need to chase any girl around that I find vaguely attractive. I’ve finally got friends I like hanging around without being drunk or high all the time. And it’s just nice, you know?”

She tilts her head at him curiously. The way she does when he’s said something concerning about his friends, or his parents, or his life in general.

Honestly, the amount of times she’d given him this look was starting to make him wonder if anything about his life had actually been normal before the literal demons from down below appeared.  

“Just friends? Are you sure someone hasn’t already subconsciously caught your eye?” she asks vaguely.

Something in her voice causes Steve to actually pause.

 “Yes, you and Eddie” he says, holding up the same two fingers he’d used earlier.

He was tempted to add Dustin, but he was more an annoying little brother than a friend. And the rest of the party had scattered once they’d gotten into the break before high school. Still asking for rides to the arcade but also were more distant after Starcourt. Not that that really surprised him. Of course their movie nights were still consistent, but Steve knew he was just the babysitter that they were all attached to in some way.

With Nancy being the only other non-child of the group and still acting awkward around him for some reason, his choice of friendships was very limited.

“You’re both my friends and there’s no one I’ve been talking to apart from you two,” he finally stated.

He could probably go find some other friends if he was absolutely desperate, but he didn’t want to attract the old crowd he used to hang around with at all. He wasn’t one of them anymore and he felt zero desire to go back to that competitive and combative relationship like he’d had with the guys on the basketball team. It simply wasn’t worth it.

The VHS player clicked, signalling another tape had rewound.

Robotically Steve adds it to the pile that had begun leaning precariously and inserts a new tape from the returns bin to be rewound.

“Come on, you’re the one that’s supposed to restock the floor. Do I have to do our jobs all by myself? My love life or lack thereof is not that interesting.” He says, huffing sassily while rolling his eyes.

“Ugh but you do our job so well” she says, lounging further across the counter. “And your non-existent love life is the most interesting thing. Unless you want to hear about Mr Hall doing squats on the table while teaching chemistry again.”

He shivers, thankful that he’d never been smart enough to take chemistry if that’s the image he would have been forced to see.

In some ways he missed high school. How structured it was and how little trauma he had before the Upside Down happened. On the other hand, he absolutely didn’t miss whatever King Steve stood for and the sudden and obvious drop in social status he had when he stopped being him.

Sometimes he’d lay awake in bed and wonder what his life could have been like if he’d never had that realisation.

If he would have gotten into college with a sports scholarship and disappoint his parents in a different way.

He’s fairly sure he’ll be stuck in this town for the rest of his life if he doesn’t follow Robin and he’s torn. He wants to stay till the kids graduate yet he yearns for a life that actually means something in the long run.

Maybe that’s selfish but he doesn’t want to die without at least helping other people in some way. With the Upside Down finally sealed away, dying in the place of one of the kids is gone.

He’s just drifting now.

Stuck in the state between knowing he’s alive but unable to do anything with it.

Nothing has really happened in his life except for-

A realisation washes over him.

Instantly he whips his head around the store, wary of anyone who could listen in on their conversation. There’s still the kid in a few rows over choosing between two movies but he’s far enough away from them that he wouldn’t hear a thing if they whisper.

He grabs Robin's shoulders and drags her into a crouch behind the counter. She lets out a stifled yelp at the sudden movement.

The stacked VHS tapes jolt and wiggle from Steve bumping against the counter but manage to stay upright.

“Oh my god” he whispers, grabbing Robin's face and smooshing her cheeks, causing her lips to pucker like a fish.

She immediately begins to lightly try and bap his hands away from her face but he holds on, forcing her to make eye contact.

“How could you not tell me Eddie knows you’re a lesbian!” he whisper screams “I thought you’d tell me if anyone else knew and I almost had a heart attack last night when being queer came up last night and I...” his voice stutters “slipped up”.

Her eyes go impossibly round, hands falling to her sides in evident shock, her mind clearly racing a million miles an hour at the information Steve had just dumped on her.

Steve had fucked up. He wasn’t mad Robin hadn’t told him, not really. No, he’d fucked up bad last night all on his own and it was only pure coincidence that Eddie had already known. In the light of day his lame excuse was even more disappointing. He knows he was panicking but it simply wasn’t his secret to tell, and if he'd blurted it out to the wrong person it could have had disastrous effects on Robin.

After what feels like forever, she finally moves, slowly reaching up and loosely pulling Steve’s hands away from her face.

Steve let her this time, heart pounding from the verbal lashing he was sure he’d get for being so stupid to almost let her dearest secret get leaked.

He did not want to be the reason Robin may feel unsafe within Hawkins ever again.

“I almost outed you” he says, voice trembling. “And I can’t believe I almost did that.”

She cups his cheek, wiping away a tear forming at the corner of his eye. “What happened?” her eyebrows furrow in confusion but Steve can tell she has an idea as to what happened.

He tells her anyway.

By the time he’s done spilling his guts about the previous night at Eddie’s, his legs have gone numb from bracing in a crouch. At some point Robin had dropped her hand from his face. He may have only been talking for mere minutes, but his body feels heavy with the knowledge of what he’s done. What he could have done. How he’s sure Robin will finally kick him to the curb now and he’ll have no one to blame for it but himself.

His head hangs as the silence in the store overwhelms him. Unable to take it anymore he glances up, only to be met with Robin huddled in on herself, shoulders shaking.

Oh. Shit. He’d done this to her. He’s betrayed her she-

 A sharp gasp drags itself out of the depths of the Robin ball as she throws her head back. A loud cackle breaks through the silence.

What?

“You- said- I-” she wheezes “I had kissed five guys-” tears start streaming down her face causing Steve to begin to panic again.

What the fuck was going on? This was not at all the reaction he was expecting. He thought there’d be considerably more slapping and bruising being received on his end.

“In- in CANADA!” she practically screams before bursting into more laughter.

She falls forward, gripping his shoulders as she continues to cackle into the space between them.

Steve really hopes Keith doesn’t come in for his shift early. If he saw Robin and Steve as they were now, he’d undoubtably write them both up and that would be the cherry on top of a very confusing whirlwind of emotions Steve was undoubtedly going to have to unpack later.

The loud crack of the service bell above him causes him to jolt.

Ah shit.

Slowly and carefully, he dislodged Robin's grip on his shoulders and stands. Thankfully she doesn’t even notice.

“Hi, what can I do for you?” he says, giving the customer a weak smile.

It’s the kid from earlier, finally having chosen which movie he wanted. Curious, Steve looks at what movie the kid got while scanning it.

Huh, Indiana Jones. Nice.

“Alright, that’ll be $5,” he says, holding his hand out to the now grumpy looking kid.

“Hmph, I was standing here for a good five minutes, what the hell were you doing? I should get a discount for waiting for so long,” the kid declares, looking smug, as if this always worked. Maybe it did, but not today.

Not one to disappoint with his own bitchiness, Steve assumes his ‘mum pose’ as Dustin likes to call it, and stares the kid down. After a few seconds the kid begins to squirm, uncomfortable in Steve’s silence and the still hyena-sounding laughter Robin is finally getting under control from under the counter.

“Alright alright”, the kid says, finally breaking.

Quickly he tosses the money on the counter and flees with his movie.

Steve sighs and glances around the store once more.

No one.

Not a single person had darkened Family Video’s doorstep since his conversations with Robin started.

Looking down, he sees Robin pushing herself to her feet, wiping away the stray tear from her outburst.

Defensively, he crosses his arms. He has no idea what sort of reaction he’ll get next, and it’s honestly starting to scare him a bit.

He’s a creature of habit, examining people’s emotions and movements had become second nature since he was young, barely above his mother’s knees. Always wary of how he was being perceived by others, always quick to come up with a way to bite back if necessary.

He didn’t want to be like that anymore, but the skill was still handy to take care of the people around him. Except for now. Now he had no idea how to fix his mistake. Had no way of even knowing if Robin found it amusing or if she was secretly furious, waiting to rip his heart out like Nancy had.

He hates that he’s now comparing Robin to Nancy but both women mean a lot to him. Have been by his side through the worst days of his life.

“What was that about” he asks, voice coming out much harsher than he intended.

She wipes away some smudged mascara, glancing up at him with a massive smile on her face.

“You tried to defend my honour. I’m laughing because one, that’s so sweet of you Steve, and two, because that’s such a shit lie.” Her toothy grin fades into one a bit more subdued. “I know what you’re thinking though, and while it scared me a little bit that you blurted out something that could point to my sexuality, I know you didn’t mean to, and I am absolutely sure that this has scared you enough to be extra careful in the future.” She says, smoothly pushing him to the side to replace the video in the rewinder.

“I love you Steve, I know you would never intentionally hurt me,” she finishes finally settling back against the bench again. “And it’s fine, because Eddie now knows that there are two other trusted queer people in Hawkins.”

He begins to nod when the words finally catch up to him.

Two other trusted queer people in Hawkins.

Two queer people...

Two? Huh?!

His head whips to the side. Eyes widening so far that it begins to hurt. Had Robin just outed someone? No, she hadn’t said a name. Could it be a coincidence? Did Robin miscount? No, she’s too smart for that. Wait, who was the second? Could he even ask?

“Umm Robin...” he pauses, unsure what he even really wants to know. Unsure if he is even allowed to know. “Who- who is the third?” He finally completes, awkwardly falling silent.

Robin's mouth falls open and her eyes widen. Moving faster than Steve can comprehend, she suddenly encapsulates him in a massive bear hug, squeezing the air out of his lungs.

“OH MY GOD Steve! I’m so sorry! I know we never talked about it but then you were super moody and sad and then you met with Eddie and you were all better and I assumed you were now together and just keeping it on the down low and hadn’t plucked up the courage to tell me yourself yet. But I’m supportive,” she practically yells. “I’ll always be supportive even if I don’t like men. But you didn’t even when I’d bring my crush on Vickie up and you’d talk about Harrison Ford’s ass and Star Wars and Tom Cruise and I just thought you were making sure I knew that you were bi without saying you were bi!” She finally takes a gulping breath. “I’m so sorry I didn’t wait for you to come to me. That’s really shitty of me for not letting you come out in your own way.”

Steve’s head overloads, unable to process much of what she’s just said. Something about bi. What is bi... some sort of bicycle? And Harrison Ford’s ass? He can tell that she’s about to continue her word vomit but jumps in before she can. “Robin, what’s bi? Why am I it? Like a bicycle? I don’t think I have a working one anymore.” he says, scratching his head in a self-conscious manner.

Robin gives him a bewildered look. “You Steve. I’m talking about you being bi... you know, as in bisexual.”

He gives her a blank look, still not understanding

She finally falters. “Steve, do you know what bisexuality is?”

He wracks his brain for the tiniest of recollections and fails miserably. If Robin or Eddie have brought it up before, it’s clearly slipped away. He stands there awkwardly, unsure how he should answer Robin. Time ticks by and Steve refuses to make eye contact. He just knows he’s failed somehow. There’s a bubble of shame beginning in his chest and he doesn’t even know why.

Before he’s given a chance to deflect or change topics, Robin cuts in, eyes searching his for some sort of recognition.

When she finds none, she visibly deflates, bringing her hands up to rub over her face in a gesture that is so much like his own that he immediately knows she’s attempting to quench a flurry of emotions.

He lets her.

Of course he does. He understands that feeling all too well when he gets overwhelmed with new information.

Finally, she looks up. Eyes still wide with knowledge he doesn’t understand.

“Steve, bisexuality is when you are attracted to both men and women. I thought you’d been telling me without telling me.” She says, tears glistening in his eyes. He really wants to comfort her in some way but can’t.

He can’t even move.

He didn’t know that was an option. He still didn’t honestly know if Robin was telling the truth because his brain simply couldn’t comprehend it. You liked one. There was no in between. There couldn’t be.

“And now I’ve pushed something on you that you weren’t even aware of. God, are you okay? I’m so sorry I sprung this on you with the Star Wars and Tom Cruise’s hair comments. I’m so sorry if I’ve gotten this wrong or forced you out before you were ready”

He feels like he’s been hit with a ton of bricks, mercilessly dumped on his head all at once.

There couldn’t be an in between.

But there was.

And it was Steve. Steve liked both.

Holy shit?

A memory surfaces from when he and Tommy were just freshmen. Dared to spend seven minutes in heaven together. Hadn’t Tommy said something a bit odd back then? That he missed sleeping in the same bed. Steve had thought that he meant being kids together, but now his gaze every time they’d shower together may have made more sense. Did he know? Or was he as clueless as Steve was at the time.

Steve wracked his brain if there was anyone he’d been drawn towards during high school. Girls had been easy and a no brainer but had there been something his mind had forced him to believe was normal? Long brown curly hair jumps into his mind suddenly.  

No.

Not that one.

But now that he thought about it, he’d begun to notice all these things, his interactions with Eddie. The way he’d always thought he had a nice voice. The way he couldn’t quite look away while he was ranting about conformity on top of the lunch tables. Oh god, the way he actually let Eddie touch and play with his hair. The way he wasn’t annoyed or even a little bit wary when Eddie got too close, instead leaning into the touch. The way Eddie never made him feel like an idiot, even when he said something stupid. He was so willing to let Steve ramble about sports and just be himself, not ever needing to put on a performance for him. The mere thought of it all made Steve’s heart squeeze with affection for Eddie. The man who hadn’t uttered a single negative word when Steve had barged in, night after night to be comforted.

He loved seeing Eddie smile each time Steve was able to make a reference to the books they were reading together. He loved hearing Eddie’s laugh when Steve was deliberately being a brat. Most of all, he loved Eddie’s touch, his warm hugs that made Steve feel entirely safe and protected.

He loved Eddie.

Static fills his brain, making him lightheaded all of a sudden.

He falls against the bench and as if in slow motion, the stacked VHS tapes wobble violently, valiantly trying to stay upright, yet finally topple when the weight and height is too much to bear anymore.

Oh Shit.

He loves Eddie.

Robin lets out a yelp and jumps back as the tapes cascade all over the bench. Yet he remains motionless.

His whole world had been pulled apart at the seams so easily and he was expected to just move on and accept it? He’s supposed to stand here and keep working?

Two voices begin warring in his mind. The irrational vs the reality.

On one hand, he could forget everything he’s just heard. He’s normal, nothing wrong with him, just an ordinary guy who likes women. On the other hand, he knows he can’t. Can’t stuff himself back in the box he’d always lived in now that it has been blown wide open. For one it would absolutely break Robin's heart that he’s rejecting himself. He’s been so incredibly supportive of her and Eddie being queer because it truly doesn’t matter who they like. But it does matter who he likes. Steve Harrington can’t be queer. A Harrington must always be one step ahead of everyone. Be on top. The leader, never a follower.

His father would beat him to the point no one would recognise him if he found out. There was no point in delving into that side of him because he was the son of Dick Harrington.

But-

When was the last time he’d truly been a Harrington?

His parents hadn’t been back since he graduated. And that was only to berate him and force him into the Scoops Ahoy job.

They hadn’t even returned when they had gotten a call about his severe head injury. Hell, they hadn’t even called once this year to even keep tabs on him.

He truly meant nothing to them.

So, why should they be able to dictate his life?

Why should Dick and Maria Harrington have a say in anything he ever does in his life from now on?

They won’t. Steve won’t let them.

He feels a tight grip on his hand and suddenly feels as if he’s surfacing from a deep ocean. Taking a massive gulp of air his lungs had obviously been screaming for.

He feels like this is the first time he’s truly tasted fresh air and takes another lungful.

He opens his eyes which had closed at some point during his spiral, only to be met with wet blue eyes, inches from his own.

Rearing back, his hip hits the edge of the counter with a bang. Causing a shooting pain to travel up his back.

Sympathetically, Robin winces with him.

Another point towards Eddie’s joke that Robin and he are actually freaky psychic twins. If only he knew how true that could have been if they were from Hawkin’s lab. Maybe there was freaky mind juice in those truth serums the Russians injected them with after all.

“Are you okay?” Robin asks, slowly creeping towards him again, hands held up in a placating way. She clearly thought he was going to hurt himself again somehow.

“I need to go kiss Eddie.” The words tumble out of his mouth before he can register how true they are.

She freezes, then her shocked face morphs into something more sly. “I will never understand men,” she sighs. “Alright, go get your man, I’ll cover you if Keith comes in” she says, giving him a small shove that makes him stumble forward.

As quick as he can, Steve runs to grab his things and sprints towards his car.

He doesn’t really know what he’s doing but he needs to see Eddie. To hold him. To kiss him.

Because everything is slotting into place.

All of Eddie’s little comments. The way Eddie loves to play with his hair. The forehead kisses he had never confessed to knowing about.

Every little emotion and gesture Steve had shoved in a box at the back of his mind thinking they meant nothing.

But they did.

It was all opening up like Pandora's box with no way of being ignored and shoved down again.

A small King Steve shaped doubt creeps into his mind reminding him that he’s unlovable. That he’s bullshit.

But Steve pushes it away. He prays to the universe that it is incorrect and charges on.

Before he properly registers it, his car is skittering into the trailer park. Directly parking where Wayne’s car normally would be.

He bangs on Eddie’s door, desperately hoping that he’s home. Not at a random neighbour’s place or gone for a walk.

It swings open to a bewildered yet sleep rumpled Eddie.

“Stevie, Sweetheart, what’s wrong? Are you okay? Is Robin okay? I thought you were supposed to be at work.” Eddie says, leading him inside.

Steve is tongue tied. Unable to speak at the sight of how beautiful Eddie had become in his mind. He had rushed over here without a single plan.

Without a single thought.

“It’s all good Eds, no one is hurt. I just got off early and wanted to see you” he says, finding no other way to explain his sudden appearance.  

Eddie grins at him, easily accepting his answer and moving them to his bedroom, settling Steve on the sheets he’d slept in mere hours ago. Instantly he starts to pace in front of him, talking about what he’s been up to that morning. Some sort of new D&D campaign idea or something about lyrics but he is unable to fully absorb what he’s being told like normal.

Steve is enamoured. 

He may not understand the words coming out of Eddie's mouth, but his enthusiasm makes up for the lack of sense. 

Maybe something about a mimic?

Try as he might to stop, Steve’s eyes keep drifting to Eddie’s lips, imagining what they’d feel like against his own lips, against his skin.

He knows Eddie had kissed him on the forehead many times, slightly rough feeling yet feather light. But Steve had always pushed away that feeling, not knowing or acknowledging that it would be something he’d obsess about now. Just a day later since that last forehead kiss.

Steve had thoroughly buried his head in the sand not to notice how he felt. The deep aching feeling of needing Eddie to be with him every second of the day, the need to have Eddie constantly touching him. It was all flooding back to him, crushing his heart with want.

Driving him crazy.

Every so often Eddie licks his lips to soothe the dryness from his relentless stream of chatter. Thinking back on it, last night Eddie had directly taken a hit of his joint from Steve’s fingers while they were reading together. His cracked, slightly damp lips had brushed against his skin, sending tingles down his spine. A precursor to what Steve knew would be so much more if he just confessed. 

Took a leap of faith and trusted that Robin wasn’t wrong. That all the signs weren't wrong.

Finally trust that he wasn’t bullshit that everyone wanted nothing to do with. 

He just had to-

"Were you listening to a word I said Big boy?" Eddie’s voice slices through his thoughts.

Steve's eyes immediately snap up to Eddie's eyes, wide, knowing he’d been caught. Eddie smirks at him as if he’s just caught Steve doing something he shouldn’t.

Knowing that he had in fact stopped listening to the threads of conversation a while ago he flounders. “Ah, so, I wasn't not listening?” He says, cheeks going red at how shit he still was at lying to Eddie.

He was simply incapable of coming up with something believable it seems.

Eddie's grin widens exposing his dimples. Those stupid biteable dimples. “You know Stevie, you could have just told me you were bored” he teases, coming to stand in the space between Steve’s legs.  

From this position, Steve had to crane his neck up. The light catches Eddie’s hair just right through the semi-drawn curtain, giving him an ethereal look. Like one of the Elves in Eddie’s books.

“Pretty.” He murmurs before snapping back to himself. He flounders for words to say to Eddie who has gone a beautiful shade of pink. "You- I was not bored, I just have something on my mind.” He finally says, tapping the bed beside him in a silent plea that Eddie will sit down.

Huffing in mock annoyance, with a dimpled smile still wide on his face Eddie does as he asks, flipping himself sideways to crash onto the bed Beside Steve. Eddie takes such care to show Steve that he’s not irritating him, not nagging him. Not even slightly bothering him and it squeezes his heart all over again. Eddie takes such good care of him, and he just can’t take it anymore.

Surging sideways, Steve captures Eddie’s lips with his own.

It’s everything he imagined to be and more. Eddie’s lips slot perfectly together with his own with only a minimal amount of repositioning. He hadn’t realised how much he’d been craving the warmth of Eddie’s lips. How much he’d desired said warmth to radiate all the way to his soul, his entire being. It was like every hug he’d ever received all rolled into one god-damn soul baring kiss. 

Steve licks along the seam of Eddie’s mouth and comes to the horrifying realisation that Eddie wasn’t-hasn't kissed him back.

A wave of panic crashes over him as he slowly pulls away only to be met with Eddie’s eyes that are as big as saucers, pupils entirely dilated.

A rouge string of spit snaps between them, making Steve’s eyes flicker down to Eddie’s mouth, still slightly parted.

Was it shock? Disgust?

He can’t have ruined their friendship in a matter of seconds, could he?

“I’m so sorry! I shouldn’t have done that without asking you. Before I knew if you felt the same way. I understand if you are upset with me. Or never want to see me again. You-you can punch me if you want.” He says grappling with any way to make this better. Make it so Eddie doesn’t leave him. “We can forget I ever did that. I- I can’t lose you and if it means you don’t like me, I’ll be okay with that. I- We can even find you someone at the clubs if you would prefer that. If you need to forget.” He pleads, the desperation setting in.

His fists are balled so tightly in his shirt that his knuckles have turned white. He can’t lose Eddie because of a stupid mistake. Just because he got all the signs wrong. Because he was bull-

“Again…” Eddie’s voice softly says from beside him.

His head whips up so fast he becomes slightly dizzy.

"Huh?" His brows furrow. Did he imagine that? Did Eddie seriously just say-

"Can you kiss me again?" Eddie all but whines.

Slowly, as if he’s going to spook Steve, Eddie pulls his hands away from his now scrunched up shirt. Threading his fingers in between Steve’s.

His heart races as Eddie brings both of their hands up to his face and gently kisses his knuckles.

“Sweetheart, I’m sorry I froze. I just hadn’t ever considered the possibility that you were actually into me.” Eddie whispers deeply, as if any loud noise could make the moment disappear. “So,” he says, shifting them so Steve is practically beneath him, “can you kiss me again so I can show you how much I actually want you?”

Without a word Steve surges upwards to meet Eddie’s lips.

Eddie’s clearly prepared for it this time as he immediately begins to devour Steve.

Sparks fly behind Steve’s eyes as he lets out a moan that is quickly swallowed by Eddie’s tongue. Making Steve moan all over again.

Eddie finally swings his leg over Steve’s torso, trapping Steve on the bed.

Not that he would even feel like moving.

His hands, still tight within Eddie’s grip, are gently but firmly pressed into the bed beside his head.

Steve feels more intoxicated by this kiss than he has ever felt with alcohol. He’s lightheaded and dizzy from the lack of oxygen but he doesn’t care. He’d gladly suffocated if it meant a single second longer kissing Eddie.

Eventually though, Eddie pulls away. Their chests heaving in tandem.

Steve can’t believe he’d buried this side of himself for so long. For the first time since he first dated Nancy, he feels alive. Hyper aware of himself and Eddie. The charged tension between them doubles as he is unable to take his eyes off of Eddie’s face. Eddie has faint little freckles dusting his nose, only noticeable because they were practically nose to nose. Unwilling to part any further away from each other. Unbelievably there are little green flecks within his honey brown eyes. He’d never noticed. Never had been this close to Eddie’s face. He comes to the sudden realisation that he gets to stare at those eyes as much as he wants now. Get’s to exchange breaths and spit and so so many kisses with Eddie. They’ll be insufferable and he can’t wait for every moment of it. 

Eddie swoops down and Steve’s breath catches in his throat, waiting for their mouths to connect again. His eyes flutter closed as he arches up for another kiss, only for Eddie to suddenly bite him in the junction between his neck and shoulder.

“Ow!” He cries out, eyes flying open as he tries to wriggle away from Eddie’s sharp teeth, despite the bite not actually being that hard.

“Sorry,” he says, resting his forehead over where he’d just bitten Steve. “I had to check that this was real. That you weren’t a dream”

“You’re supposed to pinch yourself you ass,” he says with a huff. He understands Eddie’s sentiment, almost wanting to pinch himself as well, but well, the bite has well and truly confirmed it for him. This was real.

Eddie sighs from his position on Steve’s shoulder, making his breath gently ruffle Steve’s clothes.

“I never thought I could have this, you know. Never thought I’d ever get a chance to kiss you. Or even hug you for that matter. I’m so grateful Wayne found you that night. That you gave me a chance despite being terrified of rejection. I-” his voice falters for a mere second before he plainly states “I love you Steve and I will never stop loving you as long as you want me here by your side.”

Tears well up in Steve’s eyes. No one had ever told him to stick around. No one had wanted to keep him forever.

“I love you too Eddie. I will never stop loving you.” He says. Meaning every single word and more.

Chapter Text

Vecna had been defeated. The Upside Down was finally gone for good. And Steve Harrington’s boyfriend was a god damned idiot.

Sure, he’d kept Dustin out of the danger Steve knew the kid would throw himself into in a heartbeat, but that doesn’t mean he liked Eddie throwing himself into it either.

Eddie had luckily escaped with being a badly chewed toy, rather than the alternative, which Steve still refuses to think about.  

The first couple days within their hospital stay had been intense. Doctors, police and fed’s swarming them for answers, making them sign their story away with the stipend of a hefty fee.

Eddie’s eyes had widened significantly when he’d been conscious enough to get his own interrogation, minus the murder accusations. Nancy had worked fast on that one, blaming a copycat for the Creel murders and subsequently pinning it all on Jason.

He deserved every moment of rotting in a jail cell as far as Steve was concerned.

 Wayne had visited regularly while he and Eddie were confined to their beds, explaining that the Munson trailer had been quarantined after it had half fallen into a crater caused by the earthquake the party hadn’t quite managed to stop. Instead, Wayne had grumpily explained that he’d been living in a motel nearby with some money the government had given him.

Steve had immediately offered up his own house, explaining that no one was going to be occupying it, and Wayne may as well save some money and sleep in a comfortable bed. He was adamant that Wayne and Eddie should have a proper house once they got out of the hospital and after many days of convincing, Wayne finally agreed to move in when Steve and Eddie got out.

Now, standing in his own doorway Steve felt slightly apprehensive about going in.

He logically knew that it was fine. Wayne had done a quick clean of the place before picking them up, but the house still loomed down at him. A cold building that had no business bringing in a loving family.

He’d spent so much time here by himself as a child that Steve hadn’t realised how much he dreaded being alone in his own house.

But he wasn’t alone this time. Eddie and Wayne were at his back, waiting for him to turn the doorknob.

He was so grateful for the two men that had saved him after Starcourt. Saved him from his loneliness, his self-deprecation. Saved him from this cold and lonely house.

Taking a deep breath, he finally turns the handle, swinging the door wide open.  

“Surprise!” A swell of cheers rise up from within his normally barren house, causing Steve to jolt back into Wayne who gently steadies him.

He was clearly ready for the shock and had positioned himself behind Steve to catch him if needed.

A wave of affection consumes him as he glances back at the two men, twin grins reminding him that they’re absolutely related.

“Did- did you plan this?” he asks, causing Eddie to grin even harder, his dimples finally making an appearance.

“We all did, Sweetheart. We wanted to celebrate, and what better way than us finally getting out of hospital?” He says, moving around Steve to drag him inside, leading them to his own couch.

Suddenly he’s enveloped in a cacophony of chatter and celebration, Eddie and Robin on both of his sides, sprawling out.

His heart feels incredibly full. Everyone had come together to plan this, to welcome him home.

To celebrate them stopping the end of the world being over for good.

A fuzzy feeling takes over him. His people are here and they’re all safe. No one is in danger. Not anymore. A mask that he’d held onto all these years finally slips off as he sags into the couch.

After a long while he finally needs to refill his cup of soda, waving off Robin who volunteers to grab it for him. And then Eddie, And then Dustin.

He needs to stretch his legs a little anyway.

On the way to the kitchen he spots the answering machine, blinking innocently up at him.

He supposes no one else would have cleared them while he was away, despite knowing that they could have just told Steve what was recorded later. He rarely gets voice messages. Everyone who would, knew he was in the hospital anyway.

Setting his cup to the side, he curiously begins the first message.

A voice Steve hadn’t heard in close to a year crackled to life “Steven, your mother and I heard about the earthquakes. The house hasn’t been damaged, has it? Our neighbour said that the quake hadn’t made it as far as Loch Nora.”

Steve rolled his eyes, of course they cared about the house more than how he’d been in the hospital. They definitely knew too, seeing as he was still on their insurance.

“Your mother and I have decided to sell the house. It’s become too much of a burden to keep up with and we have decided it’s best we moved on.”

His whole body freezes up. Huh? Where was he supposed to go? Why so suddenly? His fathers voice continues, unrelenting against any inner turmoil he’d just given his only son.

“We’ve left the details with the realtor, he says he’ll begin trying to sell it once the hubbub about the Earthquake has died down, so you probably have six months to find a new place. Make sure the house is presentable when buyers come through.” The phone clicks. Message over.

Steve slumps to the side like a marionette who suddenly had their strings cut.

No goodbye, no explanation of where they’re going next. Not even a simple good luck with your future.

Nothing.

He was aware his parents didn’t care about him. Didn’t like knowing they’d had a child. He glances as his chosen family, still happily chatting and affectionately swatting each other.

Steve didn’t need his parents anymore. Maybe he had never needed them. But it didn’t hurt any less to lose them for good.

Blinking the start of tears out of his eyes he notices the blinking red of the answering machine hadn’t gone away. One more message.

“Hey Steve, I don’t have long to talk.” A tinny but gruff voice calls through the receiver.

For the third time today, he’s completely gobsmacked. Is he dreaming? This can’t be real.

“Cell reception is pretty bad in Russia, and this call is eating up all my coins. But- Ah hell kid, how do I say this.”

There’s a pause on the line long enough that Steve thinks the call may have disconnected. The only reason he knows it hasn’t is because he can still hear the howling winds on the other side of the line. The plastic on the phone creaks as his grip the phone tightens.

“Joyce and Murray came to get me, so I’ll be home soon. I’m sorry I wasn’t there for the latest go around son. I heard about it from Owens.” The phone line crackles with a particularly harsh gust coming through. Faintly he can hear the voice swearing about the wind.

His breath hitches. Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry. He thought he’d never hear this voice again. Even if it is a hallucination, it’s a nice one. Maybe El was giving him a good last moment. Maybe it was Vecna, just waiting for the right opportunity to suck him into his hellscape. It couldn’t be real. It just couldn’t. That would mean- It’d mean that Hop- that he’d-

“I’m so proud of you for taking the lead. I’ll be back as soon as I can... I have to go now. Murray got the plane to work. I’ll-”

A knock at the door interrupts Steve’s spiral, ripping his attention away from the rest of the message.

Who?

Wasn’t everyone here already? Maybe it was the realtor. He’d have a sick sort of satisfaction shutting the door in his face. Not today.

Striding over he forcefully yanks the door open, ready to tell whoever it is to fuck off.

He freezes. And as if in slow motion, the man before him tackles him in a bear hug so tight that it winds him and makes him stumble back a few steps. It can’t be real. It can’t be real. It can’t be real.

But it is real.

He’s frailer since Steve last saw him.

The tears from earlier finally break through, streaming down his face for an entirely different reason as his arms come up to finally grip tightly onto the man.

They stand like that for entirely too long, letting the warm air out. They finally separated just long enough to look at each other.

Steve feels as if his throat has ceased up, finally letting out a wet, garbled “Hopper?” before he’s enveloped in another hug.