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There’s this feeling that sits in his chest, right behind his heart, that chokes him when he’s alone. It’s lived there for as long as he can remember, since his parents first left him in the house by himself when he was eight and told him there were leftovers in the fridge if he got hungry.
There was a yawning, gaping hole of childish fear and loneliness and isolation that nearly swallowed him whole when the door closed behind them. This was the house he grew up in, but suddenly it was dark and threatening, glaring at him through the shadows as the sun set steadily lower.
The heartache that Steve can’t quite explain in words has never really gone away, even though he got used to his parents being gone for weeks or months at a time, and then he learned there were actually real monsters out there to fear.
He catches himself sometimes, chest creaking and aching and not breathing, thinking i want to go home, i want to go home, but not having anywhere in mind. He isn’t thinking of his empty house with his childhood bedroom, even if his parents are there (they never are). His parents have never been comfort, to him, not since he grew out of his baby clothes and stopped following his mom from room to room. He isn’t thinking of school, or Tommy’s house where he used to spend the summers, or even the pool where he spends a good amount of time these days.
He isn’t thinking of a place at all. But there’s no one that loves him enough to be home for him, either. At school, he flanks Tommy and Carol and tries to lean into it. They like to party, so Steve offers his empty house.
He fills it with people, some he knows and some he doesn’t, tries to drown out the sadness with noise. It doesn’t help. If anything, the ache gets larger, expanding until Steve is drowning in it.
💌
Nancy’s the first person that feels comforting to him. She really looks at him when he talks, smiles at him in a way that makes Steve giddy. He wants to keep that smile on him for as long as possible.
Even when they barely know each other, he feels a connection to her he can’t explain. Something that draws him in closer, and he mistakes it for romantic love.
He does love Nancy. Truly. But it doesn’t take long for her to reject his love and shatter it against the concrete sink in some girl’s bathroom. That achy feeling that’s been more dormant, still there but less, comes roaring to the surface again and cackles in his ear, pulling at his ribs and poking the sensitive skin of his sides and taunting: I told you so.
It’s not Steve’s proudest moment, when he looks back later. Leaving Nancy in that house. But he couldn’t think around his dread in that moment, couldn’t see past the rejection clouding his eyes.
He tries to fix it, but it’s too late.
It’s not all bad, though. Dustin interrupts him bringing flowers to Nancy (probably pathetic, anyways), and that’s the beginning of the end.
💌
The kids are something else. They drive him up the wall most days, demanding he drive them places, back and forth to each other’s houses and to the arcade and to the movies. They talk over him and think they know better even though Steve is obviously older than all of them and therefore has more life experience.
He also loves them. They’re fiery and brave like they shouldn’t have to be. Steve stands between them and the demodog, then between them and Billy, and then goes with them into the trenches with an intense concussion and feeling like he might puke his guts out. For the first time, he feels needed. Useful.
And that’s not–it’s not quite right. He doesn’t feel safe with them, since they’re kids, but he does love them. And he thinks they might love him back. And that, in itself, is something new.
💌
He meets Robin that summer and it’s like that dreaded feeling goes almost totally quiet for the first time.
It’s that comfort he felt with Nancy, but more intense, even though Robin hates him for a good month or so. It’s why he’s so certain, in that bathroom, that he wants to ask her out.
But when they’re both laughing at each other, it’s–it’s warm. Steve thinks it’s the drugs until he’s wallowing by himself in his house, trying not to wince every time he moves, and Robin shows up on his front stoop.
“Hi,” she says breathlessly. Steve wonders if she ran here. “I wanted to check on you.”
“Oh,” Steve says, because he’s been thinking about how Robin is doing for the past forty-eight hours. “I’m–fine.” Robin raises an eyebrow, frowning at him. Steve knows she can probably see right through him. Bullshit.
“Can I come in?”
“Yeah.”
Steve makes them pasta and they sit in front of his tv like his parents never let him do during dinner when he was a kid. Robin is messy, eats like she’s starving and talks to Steve with her mouth full, and Steve doesn’t complain because he doesn’t want her to leave.
Robin nudges his thigh with her foot. Steve shoves her back, flinches when it pulls at his bruised ribs.
“Are you parents here? Do you have anyone taking care of you?”
“No,” Steve says. “I’m fine. I don’t–there’s not anything anyone can do, Rob. I don’t need anything.”
“Okayyy,” Robin says skeptically, dragging it out. “But you shouldn’t be moving around, you know. I can get things for you. Make you tea. That kind of thing.”
“Get things for me,” Steve deadpans.
“Yeah! Like water or soup. So you don’t have to leave the couch.”
“That’s–Robin. You don’t have to do that.”
“I know I don’t. I want to, though. We’re friends now, right?”
Steve swallows back the lump in his throat, because he doesn’t want Robin to think he’s being too intense, too much. Robin feels safe to him, in a way that no other person has before.
Steve presses against her side, hesitant but firm. Robin doesn’t shove him away.
“Yeah, Robin. We’re friends now.”
💌
Robin sticks around. The more Steve waits for her to get to know him and bail, the more she plants her feet and stays in the shit storm with him. Even after Steve tells her everything else he knows about the Upside Down, all the shit they’ve had to deal with. Still, she doesn’t go.
Steve loves her. And it’s not the romantic love he thought he felt for Nance, he knows that now. She’s his person, in a way, his best friend. She comes over when he asks her to (because he’s gotten better at asking), throws her legs over his lap or lets him do the same to her when they watch movies, falls asleep with him late at night when they’re talking and laughing about god knows what, even though Steve’s sure he’s accidentally kicked her in the throes of a nightmare more than once.
Robin quiets that ache to a soft buzz whenever she’s with him. It’s still there, but in manageable chunks.
They work together and sometimes go home together, either to Steve’s or Robin’s, and Steve is barely ever alone for too long anymore. It’s either Robin or the kids, or when he does have to be alone in his big house, he puts a tape on or the tv for background noise, so his thoughts aren’t so loud.
Sometimes, when he’s sitting there trying not to think, Robin will call him like she knows.
“Hey, what’cha doing?”
“Since I got off our shift an hour ago?”
“Yeah,” Robin says. Steve knows she’s rolling her eyes. He laughs.
“Nothing.” He looks at the spotless kitchen, that he can’t bother to get dirty to make himself some dinner.
“Want to go eat somewhere?”
“God, yeah.”
Steve knows their brains aren’t actually connected or whatever, despite what they went through at Starcourt, and even though it feels like they are, sometimes. Sometimes they can just look at each other and Steve knows what Robin is going to say before she says it.
He knows it sounds crazy. It probably is. They’re both maybe losing their minds from everything that’s happening, but at this point Steve doesn’t care. He’s happier than he ever remembers being, day to day, even with the new bouts of nightmares and the pain that flares up sometimes, and the way his hearing is getting fuzzier and fuzzier as time goes on.
At least he has his people, now. They make everything a little more bearable.
💌
Eddie is different right away.
It’s similar to what he felt with Robin, that soothing balm against the too loud ringing in Steve’s head–although it does take him longer to place the feeling, since Eddie attacks him with a sharp object at their first official meeting. But after the adrenaline wears off, it’s like–Steve wants to be next to him, he can’t stop looking at Eddie’s mouth and hands and big fucking eyes–
Which is–not the same. Not at all. Steve doesn’t believe in love at first sight (or in this case, love at first slam against a boathouse wall) because that’s ridiculous, he doesn’t know Eddie Munson–he’s exhausted and half the time feels like he’s dreaming in the daytime, so maybe he should just ignore it. He’s been running on zero energy for the past two days.
Steve ignores it when Eddie leans into his space, even though he wants to lean in right back. He ignores it when Eddie pretty obviously flirts with him, presses his back to Steve’s body and calls him big boy, even though his entire nervous system lights up with the thrill that maybe Eddie feels it, too.
Steve tries not to let his gaze linger on Eddie’s lips when he talks, tries not to seek him out in their group when they’re making plans, but he knows he mostly fails.
Then, Eddie nearly gets ripped to shreds.
Steve has never felt such a visceral, terrifying panic as the one when he comes sprinting towards Dustin and sees the limp, bloody body cradled in his arms. It nearly chokes him the entire time he’s performing CPR on Eddie’s motionless body, cracks a few of his ribs and gets his oozy, dark red insides all over Steve’s hands and arms and jacket.
Everything is moving in slow motion. Steve can’t move fast enough, he can’t pump Eddie’s chest fast enough, breathe through his still-warm lips through the frantic desperation clogging his lungs.
“Please don’t do this,” Steve gasps, his voice hoarse and so, so quiet. “Eddie, c’mon, please–”
He pumps Eddie’s chest. Breathes through his lungs.
“Steve,” Nancy sobs, her voice stilted and breaking, and Steve thinks no no no no no–
Eddie twitches underneath him suddenly, coughing and breathing, and probably spraying blood all over Steve.
A couple of voices yell Eddie’s name at once, but Steve can only sob harshly through his burning throat and rest his head against Eddie’s shoulder for just a moment.
Steve doesn’t know how exactly they’re able to pull Eddie up through the gate. All he knows is that he’s not leaving him behind, he’d die himself before that happened. Eddie is barely conscious through the process, Steve hoisting his body up against his chest protectively, flinching every time Eddie screams or cries in pain as his wounds pull or Steve digs his fingers in too hard.
“I’m sorry,” Steve tells him. “Almost there, stay awake for me, Eddie. Almost out.”
Robin stays right on Steve’s heels, encouraging him and placing a hand on Steve’s back to steady him when he stumbles.
The next thing Steve is aware of, he’s watching them wheel Eddie away through the double hospital doors, and a doctor is pushing him back saying he can’t follow. He makes some kind of noise, but Robin is there. She wraps an arm around his waist and guides him back to the others. Steve is so tired he can’t do anything but let her lead him.
Lucas and Erica are there too, looking haunted and just as exhausted as Steve feels. Steve catches Lucas’ eyes, the fear in them, and feels his chest close in against his heart. The same yawning panic he felt at seeing Eddie’s still body and Dustin’s tears.
“Max?”
“Don’t know yet,” Lucas says.
“Breathe, Steve,” Robin encourages. Steve takes in a couple rattling inhales. “C’mon, we need to get your bites checked out, too.”
Steve doesn’t understand the story they’re spinning to the hospital personnel, or if they’re even bothering to explain anything–Nancy and Robin are talking in frantic whispers around him, but Steve’s head is heavy and full of cotton. His head dips to Robin's shoulder, and he doesn’t even realize he’s closed his eyes until she’s murmuring “woah,” and placing her other arm around him to try to hold him up.
Steve thinks he gets checked out, and his wounds are cleaned and bandaged properly, but he passes out at some point and only wakes up on a hallway bed sometime later, lying down with his head pillowed in Robin’s lap and her fingers carding through his greasy hair.
Steve swallows hard, cracks open his eyes.
“Don’t, my hair is disgusting,” he mumbles. Robin snorts, but keeps scratching his scalp. It feels incredible. Steve can’t remember anyone ever playing with his hair. “Eddie and Max?”
“Nothing yet,” Robin says. “It’s only been a few hours.”
“Mm.”
Robin hands him a cup of water, and Steve drinks. It cools down his throat a little.
“Get some more sleep,” Robin says. “I’ll wake you up if there’s any news.”
Steve tries to stay awake anyway, but it’s like his body is shutting down on him. He watches doctors hurry past them, and soon falls asleep again.
💌
Steve barely leaves the hospital for the first few weeks, except when Robin threatens him with loss of best friend privileges (whatever that means) if he doesn’t go back to his house and shower, eat, and sleep in his bed instead of a creaky hospital chair. Steve knows she doesn’t mean it, but he also knows she’s worried about him–the kids tell him as much when they visit.
Eddie and Max haven’t woken up. The doctors are unsure if they ever will, but Steve can’t think about that for more than five seconds if he doesn’t want to get nauseous with anxiety.
So, he waits. He visits them both, tells them stories about Hawkins and the rebuild and what everyone else is up to. Sometimes he tries to read to them (Dustin lends Steve his Fellowship of the Ring copy), and sometimes he just sits and listens to the steady beep of the heart monitor. Dustin joins him most of the time, eyes red rimmed and tired.
Wayne looks at him suspiciously for the first month, and it’s not like Steve can blame him. He doesn’t know Eddie, not really. They were never friends in school, for all Steve knows Eddie will give him the cold shoulder now that the world is saved and Hopper is working on clearing his name.
He can’t explain it, but he can’t leave him. Eddie is one of them now, but it’s more than that, too.
He butters Wayne up by bringing him sandwiches and coffee when they switch shifts with Eddie. Wayne doesn’t talk much, but he starts to soften up considerably when Steve keeps coming, day after day, sometimes not leaving for days at a time. Wayne tells him to go home too, to go get some rest and Eddie wouldn’t want you to drop dead over him, son.
Steve grimaces at the phrasing, but Wayne remains firm. Wayne and Robin are probably the only reasons Steve doesn’t go insane those months waiting and staring at stark white walls and hearing the high-pitched beep of machines at all hours of the day, even in his sleep.
It’s a Wednesday morning in May when Wayne meets Steve out in the hallway leading to Eddie’s room. Steve stops at the look on Wayne’s face, his hands shaking around the coffees he picked up on the way here.
“He woke up this morning,” Wayne says. His eyes are shiny with tears. Steve’s grip slips on the paper cups, but Wayne takes them from him before they can spill all over the linoleum. “It was only for a couple seconds, but–”
“W-what?” Steve hates how weak his voice sounds.
“I was gonna call you right away, kid,” Wayne says softly. “But I figured you were already on your way here.”
“No, that’s–that’s okay.” Steve wants to say something like I’m not family, or don’t go out of your way, because really he doesn’t have a right to know, legally. Wayne could kick him out of Eddie’s room right now and Steve would have no way of knowing or seeing Eddie again.
Steve knows Wayne a little better now, though. He’s quiet, not a lot to say, but kind to him.
“Can I see him?” Steve asks anyway.
“Of course you can,” Wayne says. He leads the way into the room, setting down their coffees on the table near the door.
Eddie looks much the same as he has for the last two months–pale and still besides his chest moving up and down with his breaths, his dark hair carefully smoothed out away from the various tubes. Steve had practically begged the nurses not to cut it off–instinctively he knew Eddie would hate that.
“He’s breathing on his own now,” Wayne says. “That’s a good sign.”
“Did he talk at all?”
“Nah, just squeezed my hand. Don’t think he could talk around the tube though.”
Steve nods, takes a shaky breath. He sits down in his usual chair by Eddie’s bedside, and watches his face. His eyes are moving under his lids like he’s dreaming, his lashes dark against his pale cheeks.
Steve and Wayne sit together quietly for a while. Steve drinks his coffee without tasting it.
“Hey, kid,” Wayne says, later. He shuffles forward to take Eddie’s hand. Steve’s head snaps up from where it was starting to dip towards his chest. Eddie’s confused, eyes hazy and barely open, but the heart monitor starts making high-pitched whining beeps. Wayne squeezes his hand. “You’re alright, Eddie.”
Eddie swallows, looks around a little. He blinks, croaks out, “hey,” then looks at Steve. And then–this thing happens that Steve will never forget.
Eddie smiles at him. It’s a goofy smile, probably because he’s on a shit ton of drugs, but it makes a dimple pop out on his left cheek that Steve didn’t even know existed. Eddie starts to say his name, but his voice fails him half way through.
“Hey, it’s okay, man,” Steve says. “You don’t have to talk just yet, okay? You’re okay, you’re safe now.” Steve bends forward and grabs Eddie’s free hand, squeezing it gently in his bigger one. Eddie makes some kind of humming noise and closes his eyes again.
Steve hates the way it makes his eyes fill with tears. He has to bite his lip so he doesn’t beg Eddie to keep them open, to stay awake for me, please. Eddie needs the rest.
💌
Max wakes up two days after Eddie does. The kids crowd around her bedside with wet eyes. Lucas parks his chair right up next to her and holds her hand, and refuses to leave that spot. Steve leans down and kisses the top of her head, murmuring “hey, kid,” in her ear so she knows it’s him. She hasn’t gotten her vision back.
They both get more coherent as the days pass. Steve walks into Eddie’s room one morning, and Eddie is sitting up, fully awake and looking more aware than he has since he woke up.
“Hey,” Steve says. “I brought you a jello.”
“You, Harrington, are something,” Eddie says. He’s grinning, but it makes Steve falter. He doesn’t know if Eddie means that as a complement, or if he’s subtly telling him to leave him the fuck alone.
“Uh, okay,” Steve says. “How’re you feeling? No Wayne today?”
“Pretty fucking miserable to still be stuck here,” Eddie admits, which makes Steve laugh. Eddie’s been awake for less than a week. “And Wayne worked the late shift last night, I told him to stay home and sleep. I’m fine.”
“Hmm,” Steve says. He sits down in the chair next to Eddie’s bed. A rerun of MASH is playing on the small tv; Eddie is staring at it but doesn’t seem to actually be watching it. His eyes are far away.
“You know, you don’t–” Eddie starts, then falters. “I’m okay, now. I’m not dying. You don’t have to keep coming to see me.”
And Steve had prepared himself for something like this, but it still hurts like a fucking knife to the gut. He thought that maybe Eddie had felt something for him too, no matter how small, when they were fighting for their lives. Steve tries not to let it show on his face, but he’s bad at hiding his feelings when he’s caught off guard.
“I keep coming to see you because I want to,” Steve says softly. “But if you don’t want me to, you can just–”
“No,” Eddie blurts, high pitched and too loud. “No, I–I want you to keep coming. I just. Don’t want you to feel obligated.”
Steve wants so badly to take Eddie’s twitching hand in his, squeeze his pale fingers until Eddie’s stops fiddling with the peeling skin around his cuticles.
“Sorry to tell you this, but you’re one of us now, Munson.” Steve’s eyes flit to the door and away again. “Killing monsters in the Upside Down is kind of. You know. The prerequisite. Now you’re stuck with us.”
Eddie shakes his head so that some of his hair falls in front of his smiling mouth. Steve sees it, though. And it warms him from the inside out.
“Well, then as a part of this little–group, club, whatever,” Eddie says. “As your friend. You look like shit. When was the last time you slept?”
“I’m fine, I slept last night.”
“Okay,” Eddie says, unconvinced. He lets it drop though. He talks for a while, a mile a minute, like he missed it–and Steve isn’t going to stop him. He talks about his nurses, asks how Max is doing, and Dustin, and everyone else, and Steve assures him everyone is fine.
“Dustin hates that things are moderately normal again and he can’t come see you whenever he wants anymore,” Steve says.
“So–everything is. Okay? Vecna’s dead?”
“Yeah,” Steve assures him. “He tore up Hawkins a good bit, but El got him. He’s dead.”
Eddie relaxes, shoulders slumping, and Steve hates himself a little for not telling him sooner. He does take Eddie’s hand then, and Eddie only jerks a little in surprise, but he doesn’t pull away. Steve squeezes it gently, rubbing a little at Eddie’s knuckles.
Eddie cheeks flush pink.
There’s a knock on the door as Nancy and Robin poke their heads in. Steve has to tear his gaze away from the freckles across the bridge of Eddie’s nose, more visible with his blush. Robin is grinning at them, and Nancy waves a paper bag in greeting.
“Brought you some real food,” Nancy says.
“Oh my god. Wheeler. You are an angel,” Eddie says, so vehemently that Steve wishes he had thought of bringing Eddie some food first.
Eddie makes grabby hands for the greasy bag. Steve frowns, crossing his arms, and Robin comes over to elbow him in the ribs.
“Don’t be jealous,” she teases.
“I’m not!”
“What’s with that face then?”
Steve glares at her, but it’s weak. He hasn’t told Robin anything about what he’s feeling for Eddie yet–he barely knows what he’s feeling for Eddie himself. He doesn’t even know if he can put it into words. Robin holds her hands up in defense, but she stays close, tucked almost against Steve’s side. And Steve leans into her a little, sighing, because he really didn’t actually sleep well last night. He’s been sleeping like shit. His house is too big and empty, and he keeps seeing Eddie’s frozen still body when he closes his eyes.
“You okay?” Robin asks. “You look tired.”
“Yeah,” Steve breathes. “A little. I’m fine though.”
“I’ll come over tonight, bring a movie.”
“Okay, yeah. Sounds good.”
Robin nudges him, and Steve laughs, yelps ouch, Buckley because her elbows are fucking pointy. Jesus. When he looks up, Nancy and Eddie are smiling at them, and Steve clears his throat.
Nancy and Robin stay for an hour, and it’s cute how alive Eddie comes around them. He tells them the same stories about his wacko nurses, how he’s pretty sure one of them is committing fraud, and it’s so exaggerated, but he has Robin cackling. Nancy shakes her head at his antics, his flailing arms, but Steve can tell she likes him. He draws them all in, like a magnet.
Steve smiles at them, feeling that soft ache, until Eddie catches his eye and gestures to the free chair beside him.
Steve stays after Robin and Nancy leave, waving them off and saying he’ll see Robin later. He’s looking forward to the better night's sleep he’ll get with her next to him, hearing her heavy breathing and waking up with their legs tangled together.
Eddie is flagging a little, slumping more into the bed and his eyelids heavy. There’s an old western playing now, and Eddie is actually watching this one.
“Want me to go so you can nap?” Steve asks.
“Don’t you dare. Stay here.”
“Damn, okay,” Steve laughs. “I’ll stay.”
They watch the movie together. Steve is sleepy too, he can’t stop yawning every few minutes, leaning a little into the side of Eddie’s bed. Eddie keeps looking at him out of the corner of his eye, but Steve’s head is too heavy to turn and meet his eyes.
“Think you need a nap, actually,” Eddie says softly.
“Do not,” Steve mumbles, but his eyes are shut. Eddie laughs, and then there’s a hand in his hair, tugging him down to lay his head on the scratchy hospital sheets. Steve sighs, snuggling a little into the fabric. He doesn’t realize Eddie’s hand is still on his head until Eddie starts hesitantly running his fingers through it.
Steve hums, hopefully not too obviously drooling over the feeling. He hadn’t bothered spraying his hair this morning before he left the house, and now he’s happy he didn’t.
“Soft,” Eddie says, awed. Steve grins against the sheets.
“Feels nice,” he tells Eddie. Eddie hmms back, his trails through Steve’s hair getting more confident. Steve relaxes, trying to subtly scoot his body in closer to Eddie’s on the bed–and that’s the last thing he remembers, being close and still wishing to be closer.
He wakes up hours later when Wayne comes in. Eddie’s hand, limp with his own sleep, is still tangled in Steve’s hair.
💌
Steve is never more at home than when he’s got a living room full of loud teenagers bickering over the movie they’re going to watch and chucking popcorn at each other and, consequently, all over his parent’s white carpet.
“Hey, gremlins!” Eddie yells, from his spot on the couch next to Steve. Steve’s tried lecturing them tonight several times, but he’s not actually angry. They’re extra wild tonight because Eddie and Max are finally out of the hospital and they’re all back together, and truly Steve doesn’t blame them. “Cool it, would ya? You’re giving Stevie here a migraine.”
“Haha,” Steve deadpans. Eddie tilts his head and winks at him.
“Can we please just decide on something?” Robin complains from Steve’s other side. “I say Max or Eddie get to pick.”
“Oh, Jesus,” Steve says just to be a shit, yelping and dodging a half-hearted wack from Eddie’s cane.
“An excellent idea, m’lady,” Eddie crows. “Red, what’s your top choice?”
Max still hasn’t gotten her vision back, but she’d demanded they watch a movie anyway, that she can hear just fucking fine, thank you, and El can give her a play-by-play of what’s happening on the screen.
They end up watching two movies, so by the time they’re over it’s nearing midnight.
Steve is warm, existing here with his favorite people. Robin is leaning into his space, and Eddie keeps nudging Steve at the good parts and knocking their knees together like he wants any excuse to touch him. So, it doesn’t take much convincing, once the party is over, for them to persuade Steve to let them stay the night.
He does make them call their parents. They pile a bunch of blankets and pillows on the floor, and Steve digs out an old air mattress. Max gets the couch. Steve makes sure the kids are comfortable downstairs, that they have enough blankets and pillows, until they start yelling goodnight, mom, and make Steve roll his eyes.
He gives Nancy and Robin the guest room, and leads Eddie to his room. Eddie looks dead on his feet, too tired to even make fun of Steve’s (albeit, ugly) plaid walls. Steve shows him the upstairs bathroom too, where he has some extra toothbrushes, and is about to leave him to sleep in his parent’s empty bedroom when Eddie calls after him.
“Steve?” Steve turns back. Eddie’s eyes are half-closed, but he’s fiddling with the bottom of his t-shirt, weaving it between his fingers. Steve watches the movement, the way Eddie’s rings catch on the material. His fingers are long, pale, and since the hospital he’s painted the fingertips black. Steve swallows at the sudden saliva flooding his mouth, the way he wants to pull Eddie’s hand into his own and tangle their fingers together, but also play with the silver rings always there, and bite the tip of his fingers to see Eddie’s reaction–
“Will you–” Eddie cuts himself off.
“What? Anything,” Steve says, too eager.
“Can you stay?”
Steve’s suddenly warm all over. He feels the flush spread from his cheeks to the tips of his ears. Eddie looks mortified, wide awake now and like he might take it back if Steve doesn’t respond fast enough.
“Yeah, of course. I’ll stay.”
Eddie’s quiet when they get ready for bed. Steve goes back and forth for ten minutes on whether to wear a shirt to bed or not, even though he usually doesn’t, until he finally decides it’ll be weirder to change his nighttime habits now. Eddie keeps his Iron Maiden shirt, but crawls into bed with just his boxers on.
Eddie faces him, chewing on his lower lip, his eyebrows furrowed, and Steve closes his eyes for a moment so he doesn’t drag Eddie in and kiss him stupid. Oh, god. He wants to kiss Eddie.
“You don’t have to stay,” Eddie says. “If it’s weird.”
“‘S not weird,” Steve says back. Eddie nods, but his face relaxes a little. They both watch each other, which should be uncomfortable, and Steve’s sure it would be, with anyone else. Steve yawns, and Eddie yawns right after him. Eddie smiles, and his dimple carves itself into his left cheek. Steve wants to bite that, too.
He must fall asleep, because the next time he wakes up, it’s the slight gray light outside of very, very early morning, and Eddie is trying his best to wriggle out of his arms. Steve, struck dumb for a moment by how close Eddie is, how Steve can feel his sweat and body heat and smell him, tightens his grip around Eddie’s skinny waist.
“Steve, really gotta pee,” Eddie huffs, squirming again.
“Oh,” Steve mumbles. He lets go, trying not to flinch at how quickly Eddie rolls out of bed. “Sorry, man.”
Steve’s only half awake, so by the time Eddie comes back to bed, he’s almost all the way under again. The bed dips with Eddie’s weight, and Steve opens bleary eyes and smiles at his horrific bedhead.
“Sorry,” Eddie says quietly. Steve’s arm is flung out across the bed still where he left it, and he’s about to pull it back so Eddie has more room, but then Eddie worms his way under Steve’s arm again like it’s normal. He gets right up against Steve’s chest like he was before–his breath ghosting along Steve’s chest hair gives him goosebumps.
“Didn’t know you were so cuddly,” Eddie says, like he’s teasing. But he sighs, loud and content, once he gets into the position he wants. His head is tucked under Steve’s chin, and Eddie’s freezing cold toes are brushing the inside of Steve’s thigh. Steve doesn’t push him away.
“Mmhm.” He rubs his hand once up Eddie’s back, tucks himself in closer. He’s never been this cozy, this snug and comfortable with anyone before. He stays up just long enough to listen to Eddie’s breathing even out and get heavy again, puffing across his chest and making him shiver.
The noise to Steve is like a lullaby.
💌
Steve spends more time at Eddie and Wayne’s new trailer than he spends at his own house. It’s comfortable there, cozy in a way his childhood home has never been. It’s messy, but not dirty, filled with trinkets like Wayne’s mug collection, Eddie’s books scattered anywhere and any given time, notebooks and ashtrays and shoes piled up at the side of the door–all things that Steve’s parents would never have let slide in their home, but things that fill Steve with fondness.
They leave it unlocked for him. Steve knocks every time, but will let himself in if no one answers. Wayne’s usually at work, and sometimes Eddie is having a bad pain day anyways, and will just yell at Steve to come in. On those days, Steve will help him with his PT exercises, or help him into the shower. Sometimes they just lie on Eddie’s bed together and smoke, Eddie wincing every time his skin stretches too much.
Eddie’s pain is worse in the cold. It’s February, nearly a year since everything happened. Eddie has good and bad days, just like Max, just like all of them. He uses his cane less than he used to, but it still leans against the dresser in his room in case he needs it.
Today, Eddie pokes his head out of his room and grins at Steve.
“Hi, Stevie.”
“Hey,” Steve says. “Feel up to hanging out?”
“Yeah, of course.”
Steve toes his shoes off at the door, then makes his way to Eddie’s room. There’s clothes on the floor near but not in his hamper, a couple notebooks and pens scattered across his messy desk, and a half finished joint on the bedside table. Eddie scooches over on his bed to make room, but as soon as Steve sits down he throws his legs over Steve’s lap.
Steve reaches for his socked feet on instinct, cupping his hands over Eddie’s ankles, digging his thumbs gently into the arches. Eddie breathes out, lets his head fall back against the wall with a thunk.
Steve likes taking care of people like this. He likes taking care of Eddie, specifically. Not that he’s told Eddie that. He’s his best friend, apart from Robin, and he’s pretty sure he’s Eddie’s, too.
“Oh! I–” Eddie lets out a hiss at a particularly tight spot. “I have something for you.” He leans over to dig through his bedside drawer, and Steve tsks at him because he knows that’s going to hurt later.
Eddie pops up with something in his hand, pink cheeked and sheepish. He’s biting his lip like he’s nervous, but he thrusts something into Steve’s hands like he’s worried he might change his mind.
Steve takes it. It’s one of those little square valentines that you give all your classmates in kindergarten, all folded, with pink and red hearts. This particular one has Garfield on the front, with a cheesy smile and a big red heart in his arms. The front of the little card says be my valentine, and when Steve opens it, the inside says could you say no to this face?
There’s a joint taped to the inside too, and Steve can’t help the laugh that bubbles up in his throat, giddy and disbelieving. He looks back up at Eddie, who’s smirking like it’s a joke, but his face is so red that Steve knows his cheeks would be hot if he touched them.
Steve hadn’t even realized it was Valentine’s Day.
“I’ll be your valentine,” Steve says softly, smiling when Eddie ducks his head. “If you smoke this with me right now.”
“Pfft,” Eddie scoffs. “Like you even have to ask.”
Steve squeezes Eddie’s feet before he lets them go, sliding up the bed until they’re both against the pillows. Their shoulders knock together, and Steve lets himself press closer, their hips and legs flush. Steve sticks the joint past his lips and Eddie lights it for him–Steve’s breath catches at the dark freckles across the bridge of his nose, the way his dark eyes flick up into Steve’s and stay there.
They smoke until Eddie’s whole body relaxes. Steve can feel the tension bleed out of him like a wire was cut, his whole body loose against Steve’s side. Steve tilts his head to watch him, how Eddie’s gaze goes hazy and he lets his head tip into Steve’s.
Steve hums, pressing back, can’t help but turn his nose into Eddie’s hair. He smells like sweat and weed and minty shampoo–Steve breathes in, tries not to be obvious about it.
“Did you mean it?” He asks.
Eddie swallows.
“Yeah. I meant it. I know it’s not much, I–I didn’t get you flowers or anything–”
Steve rolls until he’s hovering over Eddie, and he’s careful not to press his weight on him, their faces inches apart and Eddie’s wide eyes on him. Eddie squeaks in surprise when Steve shifts, brushing his nose against Eddie’s and pressing a barely there kiss to the side of his mouth.
“I didn’t even get you a valentine,” Steve says. Eddie laughs a little hysterically.
“I don’t need one.”
Steve stares at him, watches Eddie’s gaze flick from his eyes to his mouth, going nearly cross-eyed. He can feel Eddie’s breath over his lips. Steve is still with it enough to take the now tiny joint from Eddie’s limp fingers and put it out in the ashtray on his nightstand.
Steve dips forward the last inch, and then they’re kissing. Eddie makes a soft noise into his mouth that goes right to Steve’s dick, makes him groan back and press Eddie further into the bed. He gets one hand in Eddie’s hair, twisting the strands between his fingers, and his other hand comes up to Eddie’s jaw.
Eddie is tense against him. He’s kissing back, but it’s uncertain. Steve strokes his fingers against Eddie’s cheek, drags his thumb down Eddie’s chin to hook his jaw open.
“Mmm,” Eddie whimpers when Steve’s tongue slides past his lips. The kiss is heated, sweet and warm in the chilly trailer, and Eddie shivers against him. He gets one hand in Steve’s hoodie and hangs on.
Steve pulls back after a few moments, licking his lips at the taste of Eddie on his mouth. He wants to keep going, inhale Eddie in every way possible and never stop.
“Everything okay?”
“Uh-huh,” Eddie sighs, mouth open and wet. His eyes are fucking dazed like he’s been hit over the head with something, like Steve kissed every thought right out of his head—Steve grins, smug. He hasn’t even given it his all, yet.
“You’re good if I keep going?”
“Yeah. Please, Stevie.”
Steve kisses him again. Eddie is more responsive this time, pressing his entire body up and into Steve, mouth catching on Steve’s lower lip. He nibbles at it, and the heady feeling scorches through Steve’s body like wildfire, makes him pant a helpless o-oh fuck into Eddie’s mouth.
“Shit,” Eddie gasps. He kisses Steve like he’s dying for it, his soft noises pressed between their lips and tongues, and if this is how Eddie kisses all the time Steve is going to be so, utterly fucked.
Steve kisses down Eddie’s jaw so they can catch their breaths. He scrapes his teeth there, tugging Eddie’s earlobe between them, and Eddie moans. It gets caught in his throat like it hurts, and he rolls his hips up into Steve.
“Oh my god,” Steve breathes against his neck. “You are so fucking hot.”
“Kiss me,” Eddie pleads, and Steve could never refuse him that.
“I’m not hurting you, am I?”
Steve’s not letting his whole weight rest on Eddie, especially near his hips, but Eddie keeps rubbing himself up on him like he wants more of it. They’re both hard in their jeans.
“Doesn’t hurt,” Eddie assures him. “Feels good.”
Steve groans, kisses Eddie hard–he grabs Eddie’s ass when Eddie’s hips hitch up against his again and squeezes. Eddie whimpers into his mouth, then tears his lips from Steve’s so he can pant into his shoulder.
“Oh, fuck, Steve–” Eddie starts, sounding almost panicked. Steve squeezes his ass again, rolls his hips forward into Eddie’s. They both moan. Steve tugs at Eddie’s hair a little, pulls his head back, to watch as Eddie’s eyes roll back in his head.
“Are you–” Steve starts, awed, but Eddie comes undone before he can finish. He falls forward into Steve, muffles a soft whine into his shoulder, his body trembling as he comes down.
“Oh, shit,” Eddie says, “Fuck, man. I’m sorry.”
Steve tries to pull away again to see Eddie’s face, but Eddie clings to him, burying his face harder into the space between Steve’s neck and shoulder.
“No,” Eddie groans. “Let me die here.”
“Eddie,” Steve says, trying his best not to laugh so that Eddie doesn’t think he’s laughing at him. He pushes Eddie gently back, and Eddie goes this time. His eyes are clenched shut, and his face is the color of a really bad sunburn. Steve chuckles, he can’t help it, Eddie is–fucking cute.
Eddie’s whole face scrunches in pained embarrassment, and Steve presses forward again, kissing him on his pouty lips.
“You’re so dramatic,” Steve says, voice heavy with affection. “That was so hot, baby. Don’t be embarrassed.”
Steve means it, too. He’s never made anybody come that fast before–without even touching them, just from fucking kissing and a little grinding. It makes Steve’s ego purr like a deranged cat, and he has to fight the urge to rumble and nuzzle his face against Eddie’s pink neck.
“Baby?” Eddie says, peeking one hopeful eye open.
“Mmhm. Is that okay?”
“Yeah,” Eddie breathes shakily. “So okay.”
Steve kisses him again, one hand splayed over Eddie’s exposed hip and belly, where his shirt has ridden up a bit. The scars there are bright pink still, healed, but not even close to faded yet. The skin is uneven and bumpy to the touch, just like Steve’s own scars in almost the same spot.
Eddie watches him, biting his lip, but he doesn’t protest when Steve thumbs over the sensitive skin, gentle and so light. Steve watches too, something like astonishment clogging his throat when he realizes they fucking match. Some of their skin is rough and raised, but they match each other.
Steve lifts his shirt up to show Eddie his healed over scars, smiling when Eddie reaches out to touch Steve’s with cold fingers.
“We match,” Steve says out loud, even though it sounds childish. There’s something smooth and warm coating his insides, something good.
Home, Steve thinks dazedly, when he looks into Eddie’s searching dark eyes. That’s what he feels when he looks at Eddie. He is home. Held. Safe.
“We do,” Eddie agrees. He grins, and Steve dips forward to kiss the dimple on his cheek. “What’s that look for?” he asks when Steve pulls back.
“Uh, I just–” Steve hesitates. Then he meets Eddie’s eyes again, soft and open, his lips still pink from kissing. Steve swallows. “I love you.”
It’s so easy, is the thing. Effortless. He does love Eddie, like he’s never loved anyone else. It’s terrifying, yeah, to watch the shock play across Eddie’s face, but Steve isn’t going to take it back.
“Oh,” Eddie says, small. He’s blinking very fast. “You–do?”
Steve nods, gives in and leans down so their noses touch, barely brushing. He keeps his eyes open to watch Eddie’s flutter closed and his chin tip up for a kiss. God. Steve is so gone on him.
They kiss, can’t seem to stop kissing actually. Eddie is more confident now, brushing their tongues together and sucking on Steve’s in a way that makes him groan into Eddie’s open mouth. Eddie breaks away and grins smugly, which definitely shouldn’t be as hot as it is.
Eddie reaches down between their bodies and cups Steve’s hard dick through his jeans. Steve shifts into his touch, glaring at Eddie when he squeezes once before pulling his hand away.
“Just realized I probably shouldn’t have my hand on your dick when I tell you I love you, too,” Eddie says. Then he grimances. “Probably shouldn’t have said it like that, either.”
Steve snorts into Eddie’s hair, which he’s sure is very attractive, but inside he’s glowing.
“God, I love you,” Steve says again. He never wants to stop saying it. Eddie ducks his head, flushing a little. Steve wants to tell him the rest: that he’s home, that he makes that lonely, tangled, hurt feeling in Steve’s chest completely dissolve like it’s never going to strangle him again.
That Eddie makes Steve feel safe and grounded. Warm.
Love is such a small word, really. For what he feels. For this big, all encompassing adoration that Steve’s never felt for another person, not in the same way.
“I love you,” Eddie says, gnawing on his lip right after like he’s not used to the sensation those particular words make.
Steve wants to bite him, so he leans forward and does. Right on Eddie’s bottom lip, not too hard–but enough to make Eddie squeak and then laugh, loud and bright, and then he’s rolling them over and pinning Steve down.
He’s panting a little from the effort. He still hasn’t gained all his muscle back from his hospital stay, but Steve isn’t too worried, because Eddie’s still smirking at him, body relaxed. He’s sitting up on Steve’s thighs, and Steve swallows hard, grabbing Eddie around his hips and holding him there.
“You think that was a bite, huh? Just you wait, Stevie. I’ll fucking eat you alive, sweetheart.”
Steve laughs, a little light-headed at the prospect. Fuck.
“Please,” Steve says, dizzy with lust and love and relief.
There’s a new kind of ache in his chest, but it’s not hollow and suffocating–it’s refreshing. He inhales, deep like he hasn’t truly breathed in years. He holds the feeling there like it’s fragile, and watches the smirk on Eddie’s face bloom into his dimpled smile.
He is finally home.