Chapter Text
Steve might have overestimated how far it was to Arcadia, and how heavy a sleeping Eli would be to carry. By the time they finally reached the city limits, where he might have had a shot at getting cell phone service, twilight was already starting to make the clouds glow a soft blue. It would be dawn soon, and he was downright exhausted.
He felt like his legs were made of jello, even more so than when his dad had made him walk in from the town over. He supposed carrying another person on your back when you’d already spent an entire day hauling metal wasn’t the best way to increase your stamina.
Steve kept himself from stopping every time his feet screamed at him by concentrating on Eli, and how he had to make up for all the bad things he’d done to the boy he was carrying. The least he could do was carry him back to town without collapsing into a ditch. Creepslayerz never gave up! (Unless it was a wise strategic retreat, of course.)
The night had been long and cold, but at least Eli’s slumbering body had kept him warm and kept the wind off his back. Eli mumbled a few times in his sleep and drooled onto Steve’s shoulder a little bit, but otherwise he didn’t move around or make much of a hassle.
As the sky started to shift from blue to pink, Steve felt like every time he took another step, Eli got twice as heavy, until he struggled to hold his spine up under the weight. His breath was coming in labored and wheezy, the cold dry air rasping against his lungs like smoke. He didn’t realize it, but he must have been whimpering or making some sort of noises of pain as he struggled onwards, because he felt Eli start to shift against him. The movement threw him off mid-step, and he stumbled, sending them sprawling into the mud by the side of an abandoned truck stop.
“Steve! Are you okay?” Eli squaked as he pulled himself up, wiping the mud and the sleep out of his eyes. “I knew carrying me was a bad idea, I’m sorry…”
Steve groaned, rolling onto his back and using the back of his forearm to swipe the mud out of his face. He could feel it covering the rest of his body and his (usually) precious hair, but he just couldn’t find it in himself to give a fuck at the moment. He closed his eyes and groaned, also not finding it in himself to respond to Eli. This mud wasn’t that cold, once he got used to it. And it was kind of soft. Wouldn’t it be nice to just take a nap right here?
“You wanna take a nap in a mudpit, go ahead, but just know that i’ll never kiss you again because this stuff is crawling with bacteria, and that’s not even the worst of it!” Eli exclaimed, trying his best to wipe the mud from his open road burn and wincing every time he brushed it.
“Was I talking out loud?” Steve realized. Eli stopped, squinting down at him from behind his dirty glasses.
“You’re really out of it, aren’t you, babe?” Eli asked in concern, forgetting about his own state of affairs.
“Is there mud in my ears, or did you just call me babe?” Steve asked, immediately sitting up and forgetting how tired he was. Eli’s eyes widened, and he slapped a hand over his mouth in surprise. Then he shrieked in disgust, spitting out the mud he’d unintentionally eaten in the process.
Steve burst out laughing at that, but soon stopped, because it reminded him how sore his entire body was. Eli kept spitting out dirt for a few minutes before he wiggled through the mud to get closer to Steve.
“Yeah, I did. But you’re the one who just carried me around like a damsel in distress, so don’t go making fun of me for being too romantic!” Eli said defensively. Steve usually might have been able to tell that Eli wasn’t really being serious, but right now he was exhausted, pained, and emotionally raw. All it took was the words ‘making fun of me’ for Steve to want to sink into the mud and never see the light of day again. How can he trust me not to hurt him, after everything i’ve done? And meanwhile I can’t even get myself to completely trust him not to hurt me…Eli! Hurt me! What a fucking joke...Thanks a lot, Dad.
Instead of telling Eli any of this, however, he decided to pull his phone out of his pocket and see if he had service yet. Good news: he had three bars. Bad news: his phone screen was shattered from the accident, which focusing on the journey home had made him forget about. There was no way he could afford to fix it until the end of the year, but hey, plenty of kids used cracked phones, right?
“Great! We can get a ride the rest of the way back!” Eli announced, craning over his arm to look at his screen. When he pulled back, he made an uncomfortable face, glancing up at Steve with a pleading expression.
“Can we go back to your place first? I wanna charge my phone and call my mom instead of just, you know...she’s already gonna be mad enough. I lied about where I was tonight…” Eli explained. Steve nodded in understanding, and opened up his contacts.
“My mom won’t be awake right now, but...Coach wakes up at an ungodly hour to do his run every morning before dawn.” Steve decided. A large part of his mind screamed at him not to do this, not to put himself in the position to get under the thumb of an angry father after making such a huge mistake. It could only end in pain and regret.
The rest of his mind had spent the entire night stewing over what Eli had said about Coach not being his father. About Coach never abandoning him on the side of the road to an unknown fate.
He was surprised by how unafraid he was, in this moment, of calling Coach Lawrence and asking for his help. Is this what it felt to people like Jim? People whose parents didn’t base their love on their ability to take a punch and keep their mouth closed? People who hadn’t failed their mother’s so horribly that they had absolutely no right to ask for her help? It was new to him, and confusing, and strangely terrifying in it’s own right, but it was something he was sure he could cope with as long as Eli was by his side.
Even if Eli didn’t realize how much he was helping. He could never realize that, because Steve knew he could never let Eli know the whole truth about these things. Not if he wanted Eli to stay by his side, not if he wanted anyone to ever truly forgive and respect him. If Eli knew just how much Steve was like his father...he’d stop believing in Steve’s ability to change. Steve could barely believe he was capable of change as it was, he didn’t need the extra doubt. It was already a miracle Eli had forgiven him as it was, he could never put that into jeopardy...
“So...are you gonna call him, or what?” Eli asked, and Steve startled, realizing he had been zoning out. How long had he been sitting here, staring at his phone blankly, thinking about his dad, with Eli staring right at him? What the fuck is wrong with me? Why can’t I get my head on straight?
He nodded, finally hitting the dial button and holding the phone up to his ear - a little ways away, of course, so he wouldn’t get any mud on the screen. Or any broken glass in his ear, for that matter. It rang once, not even a full ring, before it picked up.
“Steve! Are you okay? Where are you? Your mother and I have been up all night waiting for you to get home, and the Pepperjacks have called about, oh, I don’t know, a million times looking for their kid and threatening us with a lawsuit - are you guys okay?” The Coach’s voice was booming, as always, but it wasn’t angry. It was... terrified. It took Steve by surprise far more than anger would ever have, and he felt his throat start to close up. He swallowed through it, glancing at Eli to get his bearings.
Eli seemed to understand this was hard for him, even if he didn’t know exactly why. He smiled in encouragement, reaching out to grab Steve’s free hand and squeeze it. Steve shakily smiled back, and it felt like wire stretched under his skin. The raw relief from fight or flight, disguised as happiness.
“We’re okay, mostly. Eli’s got some road burn, but it’s not too bad. We were coming home and I didn’t see a deer in time and we crashed the Vespa, I’m sorry, we would have called earlier but we just got in range…” Steve struggled to explain through the knot in his throat and the clenching in his chest, hating himself for being so emotional tonight.
“You crashed? Where? When? What happened? Wait, what do you mean you just got in range? Have you been hitchhiking!?” The Coach demanded, his voice becoming even more unstrung, if that was possible. Steve shook his head, even though the man on the other end couldn’t see it.
“No, we walked! We’re just outside Appleville, near the old Pump & Grump, I don’t think we can walk any further, though, so could you maybe...come get us?” Steve asked, wincing as he said it, even though he had committed to asking before he even got his phone out. Was it still instinct if it was something beaten into you? Or was that programming?
“Of course i’ll come get you! We were already getting in the truck when you called, why did you think I asked where you guys are? How bad is Eli hurt, have you called his parents yet? Are you sure you aren’t hurt?” Lawrence’s voice was less tight now, and more gentle, ready to fix the problems in front of him. Not burdened by them at all. It might have been a small thing, but it made Steve’s chest relax. His father had always treated everything he did for Steve like it was something he would never be able to repay him for.
“His leg’s pretty banged and scraped up, so I had to carry him, but I don’t think it’s like, permanent damage...Thanks, Coach. Wait, what do you mean we?”
“Your mother’s coming, duh. Her kid just crashed his motorcycle, she’s a little worried. Sure Eli doesn’t need a hospital?” The Coach replied, and Steve could vaguely hear her voice in the background, as well as the Coach’s truck starting. Steve turned towards Eli, trying to look at his knee in the low light.
“Do you think you need a hospital, ba- buddy?” Steve asked, stammering to stop himself from returning Eli’s new pet name when he realized the Coach could probably still hear him. Maybe it was just the pink hue of the dawn, but he swore he could make out Eli’s blush from under the mud.
“No, it barely even hurts anymore, the swelling went down. I think I can walk fine now and everything.” Eli replied, testing his leg with a flex and a nod.
“He said he’s fine.” Steve translated directly into the receiver.
“Okay. Stay where you are, we’ll be there soon. Try dropping a pin over messenger while you’re at it, just in case.”
“Got it. Oh, and you might want to bring some towels with you...we’re kinda filthy.”
“No kidding. See you crazy kids soon.” The Coach replied with a smug tone, before hanging up. Steve stared at the phone for a long while after the conversation was over, wondering if the Coach had heard the half of the word he had almost said. Probably not. Right?
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When the headlights of Coach Lawrence’s track finally shone into Steve’s eyes, he had his arm wrapped around Eli to try and keep the smaller boy warm. He wasn't keen to let go, but he did when the lights turned off and he heard the engine stop. Then he stood, and offered a hand to help Eli stand up. Eli took it, leaning some of his weight on him as they hobbled towards the vehicle.
“Steve!” His mother cried almost the second she stepped foot into the muddy street. She surged towards him like the tide, checking over him visually before turning to look over Eli. Her face twisted up when she saw his leg
“We’ll fix that right up, don't worry. Have you called your parents, Eli?” She asked him, reaching out a tentative hand to offer him support on the walk to the truck. Eli took it, leaning on her a little as they all got inside.
“Sorry about the mud, Coach…” Eli apologized, once they were all buckled in and the ignition had started. Steve, sitting next to him in the back seat, stiffened up immediately. He felt a few different flashes at once: of anger at Eli for pointing it out, of fear of the Coach’s reaction, of panic at how stupid he was to not realize it before. His dad had once hurt him so badly, after Steve had spilled a Happy Meal in the back of his car, that eight year old him hadn’t talked to anyone for a week afterwards, let alone stepped foot inside of a McDonald’s for four more years.
“Don’t sweat it, your safety’s way more important than the upholstery. Besides, i’ve always wanted seat covers.” The Coach assured them, tossing a soft, joking smile over his shoulder before returning his eyes to the road. Steve stared at the side of his head, knowing he should let the tension out of his body, but not knowing how.
As if he somehow knew how frozen Steve was, Eli’s hand slowly crept it’s way into his, hidden from view between their muddy legs. Steve swallowed, feeling himself relax bit by bit.
“Where’s your Vespa? We’ll go pick it up.” Patricia asked. Eli gave her his best estimate of where they’d crashed, and it was almost maddening how quickly they got back to the crash site in the car compared to how long it had taken Steve to carry him here. It was almost laughable, but neither of the boys seemed to be in the mood. Steve just stared at the window, trying to quell his feelings of shame as the Coach hauled his bike and Toby’s wagon out of the bushes and put them in the back of the truck.
He watched the Coach stop for a moment, glancing at the sheen of all the poorly hidden scrap metal lying around. Then he glanced at the window he knew Steve was looking out of, even if he couldn’t see him in the darkness. Steve swallowed nervously, but the Coach just got back in and didn’t mention it.
The rest of the ride back became nothing but background noise to Steve after that. All he was acutely aware of was Eli’s warm palm in his and the way the lights streaked past the windows as they drove. His eyes began to droop around the time Eli used his mother’s phone to call Blinky and tell him about the bike, which was around the last thing Steve heard before he drifted off to sleep, slumping onto the shoulder of the smaller boy next to him.
Patricia glanced back and saw her son drooling on his friend’s shoulder, as Eli reached out with his free hand - did they really think she couldn’t see them holding hands this whole time in the rearview mirror? - to wipe some of the dried mud out of Steve’s bangs. He was getting the dirt all over himself in the process, but he didn’t seem to mind. Patricia knew she shouldn’t be staring at them, but she couldn’t help letting her gaze drag on for a moment longer than usual as her heart filled with warmth.
Her son may not be ready to come out to her yet, but in the meantime she couldn’t be happier that he was finally finding himself, not recycling all the garbage that He-Who-Should-Not-Be-Named had put in his head. Once Patricia had realized what her life with her ex-husband had become, she had often feared that she would never be able to break free of not only him, but his effect on her. She had feared she would always be a meek, drunk, depressive thing who tried to pretend the world wasn’t what it was.
But more than that, more than anything, she had looked at what she had let her son go through and feared what he would become. She would never tell him as much, terrified it would only hurt him worse, but she knew. She knew that men like her ex-husband didn’t just pop out of the woodwork, they were forged in a generations long system of oppression. She used to cry at night, silently, fearing for her future grandchildren, blaming herself for misery in a family she didn’t even have yet.
Funny how times change like that, she supposed. She stole another glance over her shoulder at the two boys, and smiled when she saw that Steve had slumped even farther down, his head resting in Eli’s lap while his arms dangled over his knees.
“He’s really tired after carrying me all that way. I kinda fell asleep on his back.” Eli explained, noticing her glance this time around and deciding it was a better time than any to engage with his boyfriend’s mother.
“He really carried you all that way?” Coach asked, in a mixture of awe and concern.
“I tried to argue but…” Eli shrugged. Patricia smiled wider, looking down at her sleeping son with pride.
“You’ve been really good for him. Thank you. I don't think he's ever had a real friend before you.” She said, not trusting herself to say any more than that. Eli flushed, like he might know what she knew. She only smiled wider at him, hoping he knew how happy she was.
“He's been good for me too. But...” His smile faltered, and he glanced down at sleeping Steve, as if watching to make sure he was really out. Then he glanced back up at her, with a widened gaze that told her he wanted to ask something, but was afraid.
“Is something wrong, sweetie?” She asked in concern, suddenly afraid she had celebrated too soon. Eli visibly gulped, glancing at the back of Lawrence’s head before looking back to her:
“He said his…” Eli paused, reconsidering, “I just wanted to say thank you for coming to get us, and for being so cool about it. Just in case Steve doesn't say it directly, I think it means a lot to him…you mean a lot to him.”
Mrs. Palchuk’s face trembled as tears welled up in her eyes.
“Thank you, sweetie.” She said, her voice tight as she turned to stare at the road ahead, trying to control herself.
“You alright, Patricia?” Coach asked softly.
“I’m amazing.” She replied through her silent tears, smiling over at her boyfriend with a brilliance he rarely got to glimpse. In the back, Eli was slowly starting to realize that every word he had said had weighed a thousand times more than he imagined. He slowly stroked the hair out of Steve’s face as he slept, wondering how he could look so innocent in his sleep.
Eli could only hope he was as good for Steve as everyone else seemed to think...