Work Text:
The year of 1986 was turning out to be one hell of a ride.
The obvious reason for this was the interdimensional bullshit that went down in Hawkins over spring break. It was intense. It was death defying. It was, frankly, unbelievable.
But portals and monsters aside, weirder things could happen. There was still Area 51 and Bigfoot. UFOs too, if the conspiracy theories were to be believed.
And while finding out about the upside down had certainly been world altering, it wasn't the most shocking thing to happen in '86 overall. Not by a long shot.
Because by some fucking miracle, come June, Eddie Munson managed to graduate high school.
There was an appropriate amount of fanfare. The Hellfire Club sent him off with a surprise graduation party, which had been about as nice of an occasion as one could expect from a bunch of dudes who had collectively attended maybe two or three social gatherings in their lives. Full disclosure, it had been kind of lame. But it was also the first and only party Eddie would ever have thrown for him, so he appreciated the sentiment.
His uncle, the old sap, had baked him a cake to celebrate. It was an ode to the hobby they'd shared since Eddie's mom dropped him off on the trailer's doorstep with a couple hundred bucks and a goodbye note all those years ago. Holidays, birthdays, whatever it was, the two of them had always baked for themselves. It was an easy way to feel like they were being festive without spending money they didn't have. And if the cake was a little lopsided or under baked, Eddie didn't notice.
Perhaps stranger than his graduating, though, was the fact that afterwards, Eddie had a social life.
In truth, he'd always expected his existence beyond high school to amount to nothing. It wasn't like he had much going for him. He was under no illusion that he was ever going to make it big with music no matter how much he loved it, and he knew that even though his particular line of work could be lucrative at times, it wasn't a steady source of income.
So he would work at a gas station or the local corner store. Maybe at the plant with his uncle. He'd play shows for drunk middle aged men on the weekends and sell pot to teenagers from time to time. He certainly wouldn't ever make it out of Hawkins, because nobody ever made it out of Hawkins. Not really.
That was his future. His reality, cut and dry, plain and simple. Nothing to be too torn up about.
At least, that was what he'd always thought. And then Chrissy Cunningham had snap crackled and popped in his trailer and his version of reality turned out to be one big fucking lie.
After that particularly unpleasant turn of events, the word "unusual" was wholly redacted from the Munson Doctrine. There were parallel dimensions and monsters and a little girl who could move shit with her mind—he'd have to be a fool to try and adhere to the laws of the universe.
So if a year ago, regularly hanging out with the likes of Nancy Wheeler, Robin Buckley, and Steve Harrington was unthinkable, it wasn't anymore.
The four of them became close almost by accident. Call it trauma bonding or whatever. It didn't matter. What mattered was that after essentially walking through hell and back together, Eddie had become invested in each of them without exactly meaning to, and they were invested in him back. That was that.
Once the dust settled after spring break, they formed a friend group of sorts. Which was new, because Eddie didn't belong to any friend groups. Never had. He had bandmates and the Hellfire Club, sure, but those were people who hung out with him because they had set meeting times and an obligation to attend. Not people who called him up spontaneously on the weekend to have pizza and watch a shitty movie or two.
But that's what they were. A genuine, bonafide friend group of people who on the surface had nothing in common but who knew each other better than anyone else. Eddie liked to think of them as a patchwork quilt made of mismatched scraps of fabric. Torn in places and moth eaten all to hell, but a quilt nonetheless. Warm and soft and safe.
He learned things about them that he otherwise never would have guessed. Robin was funny and refreshingly honest. Bordering on blunt, maybe, but he liked her that way. She was wittier than him too, even if he would never admit it out loud. And she was just like him in the other ways that mattered. With her around, he didn't feel quite so alone in Hawkins.
Nancy turned out to be a total badass with guns, plural, something Eddie still hadn't gotten over. She was caring in an older sister kind of way, made it her business to check up on everyone's well being, which he was unused to but didn't hate. She was smart, too. He would've never passed Ms. O'donnel's semester final without her neatly handwritten flashcards. In a way, he owed his graduation to her.
And then there was Steve.
Once upon a time, Eddie wouldn't have so much as glanced twice in his direction. He would have pegged him for another brainless jock with daddy's money and nothing to do on the weekends except drink and party. Never in a million years would he have assumed the guy was a decent human being. Or brave, or kind, or endearingly protective over an entire gaggle of problematic children.
As it turned out, Steve was all of those things and more. Eddie learned as much after their little group started hanging out on the regular. It began as a one off movie night at Steve's house after they all happened to cross paths at Family Video on a Friday night, and had evolved into a weekly occasion from there.
It was surprisingly nice. Something that Eddie could look forward to in his otherwise stagnant post-graduation life.
Which is why he was more than a little disappointed when Friday evening rolled around and Steve was nowhere to be found.
This was inconvenient for a few reasons. The first being that Steve's house was the designated location of their get togethers. No Steve meant no entry.
Which led into reason number two for Steve's absence being a massive inconvenience: it was raining. Pouring, really.
The weather report had warned of a summer storm rolling in, and lo and behold, the sky turned gray and the wind began rattling the windows of Eddie's trailer around six o'clock. By the time he was pulling into Steve's driveway, the rain was coming down hard and the storm drains were working overtime to keep the streets from flooding.
He hopped out of his car and half jogged to join Nancy and Robin where they stood crowded under the eaves of the roof. Robin waved at him—or, no, she was flipping him off. Typical. Eddie grinned and flipped her two birds back.
Nancy was standing with her arms crossed tightly over her chest. He turned to her first when he reached them, shaking out the moisture from his hair while Robin swatted him away and grumbled something about him being a big wet dog.
"You alright there, Wheeler?" he asked, taking in the rigid line of her shoulders and subtle tapping of her fingers against her bicep. "You're looking a little tense. That's no good. Causes wrinkles, haven't you heard?"
His attempt at a joke fell flat when she leveled him with a pinched expression, fingers tapping faster. "It's almost half past eight. Steve should be here be now."
Eddie checked his watch. The time read 8:17, which was not in fact almost half past eight, but he didn't bother correcting her. He valued his life a little too much for that.
"Are you this worried when I'm late, too, or is the concern reserved for Harrington?" he asked instead.
She looked at him dourly, lips pursing.
"I'll take that as a no." He turned to Robin. "Is there a reason for us to be especially worried? He's been late before, hasn't he?"
Robin shrugged. "It's the storm. Nancy was saying it could be dangerous, slick roads and all. I don't know. I think he's fine, personally," she started, pausing when a loud crack of thunder interrupted her before continuing. "He was supposed to be closing up shop at work tonight. The idiot probably just forgot how to shut down the registers or something. Wouldn't be the first time."
Nancy shook her head insistently, curls bouncing. They were larger than usual, bushier, presumably from the humidity brought by the storm. Eddie ran a hand over his own hair absently.
"The last time he was this late he called to tell us he'd be here soon," she argued. "I don't know. Maybe I'm being dramatic, but I don't like it. I just. . . I don't know." She caught her bottom lip between her teeth when she finished, shaking her head again softly.
Her blue eyes were wide and scared when they met Eddie's. He remembered seeing that same look months before on the boat, right after Steve disappeared beneath the surface of the lake and didn't come back up. It was fragile and glassy. Startlingly young. Not the kind of expression a person forgot, and not the kind he ever wanted to see again.
He glanced at Robin. She seemed to be thinking the same thing, going by the way she had inched closer to Nancy and placed a hand on her shoulder. "I'm sure he's okay, Nance. We know he can take care of himself. And hey, he's a pretty damn good driver. Don't sell him short."
Nancy nodded tightly, but she was still looking at Eddie with those pleading baby blues. He sighed.
"You said he's at work, Rob?" he asked, and Robin nodded. "Alright, then. I'll go check on him. Make sure he hasn't actually gotten a hand stuck in the cash register or something stupid like that. It honestly wouldn't surprise me."
Some of the tension bled away from Nancy's stance. Next to her, Robin's lips quirked up into a grateful little smile, the worry in her eyes that she'd been trying to mask for Nancy's sake dissipating quietly.
Eddie shrugged off his denim jacket. He lifted it above his head as shelter from the rain and leveled them each with a serious look. "If he gets here before me, you both owe me $10. And we're watching The Shining next week."
"Again?"
"We've seen it at least three times now!"
But Eddie was already halfway to his car, and their protests were lost to the distant rumbling of the storm.
***
It was a quarter to nine by the time he pulled into the Family Video parking lot.
Every shop on the strip was closed, windows shuttered and dark. The whole area was dark, in fact. It took Eddie a second to realize that it wasn't just the late hour, but because the street lamps that usually kept the area well lit had gone out.
A power outage, then. He hoped it was only this block and not Steve's high end neighborhood. It'd be a shame for the night to turn out a complete bust.
He parked his beat up van next to the only other car in the lot, Steve's burgundy BMW, and hopped out. The bottom of his jeans grew damp as he jogged through puddles to the door. Thankfully, it swung open on the first try. The last thing he needed was to be stranded out in the rain.
It was dark inside the shop. Steve was nowhere in immediate sight, so Robin's theory about a register mishap was instantly disproven. Eddie would be lying if he said he wasn't a little disappointed. He would have paid to see Steve with a finger stuck in the cash drawer, doing his ridiculous little pout and puppy dog eyes.
He took a few steps in, water droplets dripping from his hair onto the carpeted floor as he went. "You in here, Harrington?"
There was no response. Eddie frowned, looking down each aisle he passed as he approached the check out counter at the center of the store. Steve was here, had to be if his car was in the parking lot. The only explanation for his mysterious absence was that he was in the back, and though Eddie definitely didn't want to get written up for trespassing in the Family Video break room, he would check it out if he had to.
He was passing the registers and heading for the employee's only door when another crack of thunder cut through the pitter patter of the rain, and he heard it.
A soft noise, choked off like it died in someone's throat. It was pained, like a wounded animal, but distinctly human. Afraid.
He spun around on his heel and surveyed the store again. It was still as empty as it had been the first time he checked. For a second, he thought he might be losing it, that the storm was making him paranoid, but then he caught a flash of movement from the corner of his eye and glanced down and there was Steve, curled up with his legs tucked close to his chest and his face pressed against his knees.
Eddie cursed softly. He closed the distance before he even knew his feet were moving, a cold rush of concern overtaking every other thought in his mind. He stopped a few feet away from Steve, who hadn't lifted his head or given any indication of acknowledging his presence, and dropped to a crouch.
"Steve? Steve, what happened, what's wrong?" he asked, panic bleeding into his voice and raising its pitch.
Steve didn't react. He was shaking hard, hands fisted so tightly in the denim of his jeans that his knuckles were white. He looked small like this, balled up and tucked beneath the countertop, and for a second Eddie could only see a frightened child.
He lifted his hands and let them hover uselessly in the air between them. Every instinct was telling him to wrap Steve up in a hug and hold him until he stopped shaking so violently, but he didn't know what was going on, didn't know if that would make things better or worse. He'd never seen Steve like this. Hell, for all he knew, Steve wasn't even in control of himself.
Shit. That was a bad thought. Eddie swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry. What if Steve wasn't in control? What if this was like Chrissy, and any second Steve was going to look up with white eyes and a vacant expression? He couldn't do that, not again, couldn't watch another person die. Couldn't watch Steve die, but even now he could see it, knew that any second he'd start levitating and then his limbs would contort until they each gave a sickening crack and Eddie would be there again, useless, able to do nothing but watch as he—
There was another loud clap of thunder. Steve flinched and made a strangled sound in his throat, and that was enough to bring Eddie back to the present. He blinked hard past the mist that had begun to blur his vision. Steve was here, and he was fine, and he wasn't going to die. He wasn't completely okay at the moment, sure, but he wasn't going to die.
He wasn't going to die.
Eddie shuffled further into Steve's space. This close, he could smell the familiar cologne he used, masculine but slightly sweet. Something like sandalwood and vanilla.
"I'm going to touch you now, okay Steve? Is that alright?" he asked, keeping his voice low like he was approaching a frightened animal. Steve still didn't react. After a few seconds Eddie brought his hands down to rest on his shoulders.
As soon as he made contact, Steve's head snapped up. His eyes were wide and wild with fear. He shuddered, and Eddie held him tightly by the shoulders, hoping it would ground him and not freak him out more.
He ignored the pounding of his heart in his chest and kept his expression neutral. "Hey, it's okay, you're okay, it's just me. It's Eddie, I'm here."
Steve was looking through him, doe eyes glazed over, but after a beat they seemed to focus. And then he was sucking in a ragged breath, hands coming up to grip at the denim of Eddie's jacket roughly.
"No, no, no what—what're you doing here? It's not safe, you can't be here, you can't—you can't be here, it's not safe," he said in a rush, words running together in his hysteria so much that they were almost incoherent.
Eddie was still trying to process what Steve had said when the hands fisted in his jacket suddenly yanked him forward.
He'd been crouched and balancing on the balls of his feet, and with Steve using his full strength, he had no shot at resisting. He went pitching face first into his chest and landed with a punched out breath.
His hands scrambled for purchase and ended up tangled in the fabric of the other man's work vest. He tried to lift his head, but Steve's arms were wrapped tightly around his middle and had rendered him fully pinned to his body.
He managed to pull his face away just far enough so that he could speak. "Steve, what are you—what's going on? What are you doing?"
Steve hushed him and pulled him closer to his shaking form, if that was even possible. "They're here, the—the demogorgon, or the dogs, or the mind flayer. It could even be Vecna, but they're here, Eddie, they're here, so you have to stay quiet. Just stay quiet so that I can protect you from them, okay? I'll protect you from them," he explained, frantic and quiet.
Shit. Eddie felt a cold knot of dread settle like a weight in his stomach. It should be impossible, because they killed them, and no one had noticed anything off, not even El, but—
He clutched Steve's vest tighter, blood rushing deafeningly in his ears. "Oh, Jesus Christ, not this shit again. Are you sure?"
He couldn't see it, but he felt Steve nod. "Mhm. Saw the—saw the lights, earlier, and they always come with the lights."
The lights? Eddie tried to lift his head again, but it was still impossible with Steve's iron grip. He settled back against his chest and spoke anyways. "Steve, the lights are out. What do you mean you saw them?"
But it was like Steve hadn't heard him. He kept murmuring quietly, almost more to himself than to Eddie, his voice thick and shaking with every word. "Always—always with the lights. They always come with the lights. I'll keep us safe, though, it's okay. You're gonna be okay, I'll—I'll keep you safe."
The dread born of fear in Eddie's stomach gave way to a different kind of concern. "When did you see the lights?"
Steve kept mumbling until Eddie found his side and squeezed to get his attention before repeating the question. He paused as if to think, then said, "Started at closing time. I've been hiding from them, and they haven't found me, but now you're here and I can't let them find you, Eddie, I can't. I won't let them find you."
He kept talking, but Eddie tuned him out and racked his brain for Family Video's closing time. It was a Friday, so that meant Steve would have started closing up shop around seven o'clock. And Eddie had gotten here close to nine, which meant. . .
Two hours. Steve had been here like this for two hours, thinking he was hiding. But he wasn't. He couldn't have been, because something would have gotten him by now. Hell, Eddie would have seen something.
There was nothing. It was the power outage, and the lights had flickered, and Steve must have flipped his shit and panicked, and now he was here curled up under the cash register thinking he was going to die.
Eddie felt something twist painfully in his chest at the realization. He swallowed around the dryness in his mouth. "Steve, I need you to let me up."
Steve ignored him again. There was another crack of thunder, and his entire body flinched violently. Eddie could hear his heart pounding rapidly where his ear was pressed to his chest. He tried for shifting away again, harder this time, and managed to gain some ground before Steve stopped him with a tightened grip.
"No, you can't—you have to stay here, Eddie, I need to keep you safe. Stay here, please," Steve begged, voice cracking at the end and driving the knife further into Eddie's heart.
He was so certain of the danger, and Eddie didn't know how to begin convincing him that they were safe when he couldn't even move. But he had to try. He summoned all of his strength and waited until Steve's grip loosened again before he jerked himself away.
It worked, and he scrambled back as soon as he broke out of Steve's grip. Steve made a startled noise and reached for him, but Eddie intercepted his wrist and held it firmly at a distance.
"What are you doing? You can't leave, you can't—you can't leave, Eddie, please, I don't want you to get hurt," he babbled, high pitched with alarm. He strained to grab at him again, and when Eddie held him in place his eyes fogged with moisture. "Don't go, don't—don't leave me alone. Please, I don't want you to leave. Don't leave me alone."
And hell if Eddie was ever leaving him alone after this, even for a second. He held his wrist where it was but shuffled back in so that they were closer. Steve relaxed, but only slightly, his doe eyes still wet and wide with anxiety. Another pang went through Eddie's chest at the sight.
"Steve, baby, I need you to listen to me, okay?" He kept his voice steady and low, but insistent enough that Steve nodded. Eddie nodded encouragingly at him. "Good. I want you to listen to the rain. Can you hear it outside?"
Steve nodded again. His chest heaved with each shuddering intake of breath, but he had finally fallen silent. "That's good. There's a storm outside right now, and thunder, alright? You can hear the thunder too, yeah?"
He hesitated at that one, almost like he wanted to argue, so Eddie pressed on. "You can hear the rain, right Stevie? There's rain because there's a thunderstorm. Nothing else."
That got him to nod. He had stopped straining against Eddie's grasp, so Eddie let his hand go and shuffled in closer until their knees were touching. He let one hand settle on Steve's bicep and began rubbing slow strokes along the length of his arm.
"There's been a power outage because of the storm. When you saw the lights flicker, that was all it was. Just a power outage. I know it isn't anything else because I would have seen it coming in, or it would have. . . it would have gotten us by now."
Steve's breathing hitched. He shook his head hard, eyes wide and insistent. "No, I saw—they always come after the lights, and I saw—I saw them earlier, they—"
Eddie cut him off gently. "Steve. The storm, remember? The lightning must have messed up the power lines. It's just the storm, right outside. You can hear it, can't you?"
Steve paused. Listened. And after a long moment, he nodded, brown eyes welling with tears again.
"There's really nothing?" he asked, voice impossibly fragile.
Eddie was once again hit by the urge to wrap Steve up in a hug and hold him until all the fear went away. He settled for nodding and lifting his other hand to hold him by both shoulders.
But then Steve's face crumpled, and he was crying softly, and Eddie was tugging him forward into his open arms before he could think better of it.
Steve went down like he'd been waiting to be held the entire time. His face was wet when it settled into the crook of Eddie's neck, and his entire body was quivering with the left over adrenaline and force of his sobs, and Eddie couldn't imagine a scenario in which he ever let him go.
He wrapped his arms around him and held him close. One rested around his middle and the other higher up on his shoulders, where Eddie could bring a hand to settle at the base of his neck. Hesitantly, he tested out running his fingers through Steve's thick hair. When the other man immediately melted further into his embrace, he began carding them through his tresses with slow, gentle strokes.
There was a dissonance to it, seeing Steve unraveled so completely. Steve Harrington, who everyone relied on. Who looked after half the kids in Hawkins out of nothing but the kindness of his heart and who would put himself in the way in danger for any stranger off the street without a second thought. Who had bore the weight of the world on his shoulders time and time again without a single complaint.
And maybe that was exactly the problem: that he did it all without complaint. That he was strong all the time, for everyone, no matter the personal toll. Because clearly, there was a personal toll. They'd all just been too blind to see it.
The thought hurt. All Steve had done for him, all the times he'd checked up on him after their brush with death, all the times he'd been there to listen to Eddie ramble and bitch and cry about his own shit. What had Eddie ever done for him? When had he ever stopped to think that maybe, just maybe, going through what he had gone through four times over would have a pretty big fucking impact?
It wasn't right. He deserved better by a mile. If anyone had ever deserved better, it was Steve.
Another crack of thunder brought Eddie back to the present. Steve flinched, but was otherwise mostly still. His sobs had died down into an occasional sniffle, and he wasn't shaking nearly as bad as before.
Eddie's arms were sore where they were wrapped around him and his legs had both fallen asleep. He wasn't sure how long they'd been huddled there on the floor, but he knew they needed to move at some point so that they could get back to Steve's house.
Shit. Steve's house. Where poor Nancy had probably already gone into cardiac arrest. At least Robin was there to resuscitate her.
Eddie paused the fingers still carding through Steve's hair. "You alright? Or, I guess no, obviously not. But semi-alright?"
Steve huffed a laugh against where his face was still pressed to Eddie's shoulder, and it was the single best sound Eddie had ever heard. "Semi-alright," he croaked.
"Good. I can work with semi-alright," he said, and Steve hummed. "But we do have to go."
Steve lifted his head slowly. His face was red and blotchy and tear streaked, and when he blinked Eddie saw that his eyelashes were wet and clumped together. "Go where?"
Eddie gave a slight smile. "Your house. Movie night. I think we've got a showing of Top Gun to catch, courtesy of your impeccable taste."
Steve wrinkled his nose at him. "I'm not sure I like your tone, Munson. Top Gun is fantastic. You're going to appreciate it."
"I would bet good money against that."
"Well you're not going to appreciate it with that attitude, asshole."
They kept bantering as Eddie helped Steve up and out of Family Video. It restored some normalcy to the situation, which Eddie was grateful for, even if Steve kept himself pressed tightly against Eddie's side and flinched violently at every crack of thunder. They were slow moving, too, because Steve had been folded up under that register for literal hours, and even though he tried to hide it he'd winced when he stood and there was no way he wasn't feeling at least a little sore.
The rain had let up outside, but not by much. It was enough that they didn't get completely soaked during their mad dash to Eddie's van. Not enough, however, to save Eddie from Steve's teasing about his hair looking like a swamp creature, which he had quickly apologized for once Eddie had begun to shake like a dog to create his own mini rainstorm inside the car.
The car ride back to Steve's was silent. Mostly because by the time they hit the first red light, Steve was asleep with his face pressed up against the window.
Eddie let him rest, happy that at the very least, he had finally stopped shaking.
***
Their arrival at the Harrington residence was a blur. As soon as they'd pulled into the driveway and stepped out of the car, Nancy was on Steve, wrapping him in a tight hug that only sent a mild pang of disappointment through Eddie's chest. Robin hugged him next, which sent a pang of nothing through Eddie, because she was. You know. Very much uninterested in Steve.
Steve spoke very little. He was exhausted, and still shaken up. Eddie was grateful the girls knew him well enough that he didn't have to explain himself. Nancy did send Eddie a questioning glance, to which he'd mouthed 'later,' and that seemed to be enough for the time being.
Ultimately, a movie seemed out of the question. It was nearly 10:00 by the time everyone was inside, and Steve wasn't the only one of them who was dead on his feet. Eddie could feel his own eyelids growing heavy, and Robin had collapsed onto the couch as soon as they'd made it into the house.
But with the rain and everything else, it was also too late for any one of them to feel any inclination to drive home. Robin and Nancy made phone calls (luckily, the power hadn't gone out on Steve's block after all), and it was decided that they'd all stay the night.
The girls said their goodnights and retreated to the guest room. The same guest room, which was—interesting. Eddie made a mental note to ask Robin about that later.
And then it was just Eddie and Steve in his room.
Which was. Something.
"I can really sleep on the couch, you know. I don't mind at all," Eddie tried again, because Steve wasn't understanding him, or his need to absolutely not sleep in the same bed as his attractive male friend who he would very much like to maintain platonic feelings for. Or at least pretend to maintain platonic feelings for.
Steve rolled his eyes. He was rifling through his dresser, presumably for pajamas, and he didn't even bother sparing Eddie a glance when he denied him again. "You're not sleeping on the couch, man. I promise you it's fine. Just don't kick me in your sleep and we're good."
"Ah!" Eddie hopped up from where Steve had directed him to sit on the edge of the bed and shuffled toward the door, hands thrown up in an imitation of helplessness. "Well, I do, actually. Kick in my sleep, I mean. So guess it's a no go! Seriously, though, thank you for the offer."
A balled up item of clothing was launched in his direction before he could reach the door. He yelped, barely managing to catch it before it nailed him in the face. He shook it out. It was a green t-shirt with blocky yellow lettering across the front and a tiger's head in the middle.
Christ, it was Hawkins High School basketball shirt.
Eddie held it at arm's length, wrinkling his nose. "And what exactly do you expect me to do with this abomination, Harrington?"
Steve leveled him with a mildly annoyed look. "Change into it, jackass. Unless you wanted to sleep in your wet jacket and skinny jeans."
Another ball of clothing was launched his way. This time it was a less offensive pair of gray sweatpants. Eddie held both items close to his chest and raised a brow at Steve, who was looking at him expectantly.
"If you wanted me to strip, Stevie, all you had to do was ask nicely," he joked, flashing a teasing grin.
And that's all it was. A joke. But then Steve's face bloomed a bright shade of red, and that had never happened before after one of Eddie's wise cracks. At least, not to his recollection.
He quickly turned away, and Eddie watched him rub the back of his neck as he rummaged through his dresser. "I don't—you—whatever. And you're welcome, by the way," he grumbled without any of his usual bite.
After a few seconds he came up with a gray t-shirt and pair of red flannel pajama bottoms for himself. He turned back to face Eddie, opened and then closed his mouth, and promptly stalked toward another door attached to his bedroom with ears still burning red.
"I'm changing in the bathroom. Just—you stay here."
The door closed. Eddie blinked owlishly after him and tried to process the exchange.
Maybe Steve was still shaken up. That had to be it. It was the only explanation, really, because in no world was there any other reason why Steve would blush at Eddie's play flirting. There couldn't be.
But then again, it was Hawkins in '86. The regular laws of the universe didn't apply.
Eddie thought on it as he peeled his damp clothes off, but there wasn't much else to think about. He wasn't going to let himself dwell on it. That would lead to some sort of convoluted hope about something that was never going to happen. Better to let his misguided crush die in the Upside Down where it had begun.
Steve's pajamas were soft and warm against his skin. They smelled like clean detergent, and under that of sandalwood and vanilla, just like the rest of Steve's room. It was familiar and comforting. For a single, stupid second, Eddie wondered if Steve would ever let him keep the shirt.
The bathroom door opened. Steve stepped out looking drier and sleepier than before, his hair ruffled and his posture sagging with exhaustion. Eddie very intentionally did not look at how low slung the flannel bottoms were on his hips, or at how tightly the sleeves of the t-shirt hugged his biceps even with how oversized the rest of it was.
"You look cozy," Eddie announced pointlessly.
Steve was silent. He was staring at Eddie with a strange look in his eyes, lips parted slightly. He didn't even try to hide it when his gaze dragged over his body, from top to bottom and then back again, and Eddie shifted his weight awkwardly from one side to the other under the scrutiny.
"So do you," he said eventually, meeting Eddie's eyes with a shuttered expression.
For a moment, the two of them just stood there. The only sound in the room was the steady drumming of the rain against the window and the pounding of Eddie's heart.
And then there was a particularly loud crack of thunder that sent Steve jerking so hard he banged his elbow against the doorframe.
Eddie moved toward him without thinking, but Steve was already recovering and stepping further into his room, away from Eddie's outstretched hands. He tossed his dirty clothes into a laundry basket tucked against his dresser and ran a hand through his hair.
"Steve," Eddie started, letting his hands fall back to his side. They should talk about it. They definitely needed to talk about it.
But Steve shook his head before he could say anything more, throat working as he swallowed. "It's fine. I'm fine. Let's just go to sleep."
Eddie hesitated, but nodded. He thought about having to sleep in the same bed as Steve, thought about how extremely inconvenient and confusing that was going to be for his nervous system, but did not bring up leaving again. If he had a bit of a gay panic, he'd deal with it later.
Steve's words from earlier echoed in his head: don't leave me alone. And Eddie wouldn't. Not for anything.
Steve pulled back the comforter and climbed into bed. Eddie took his cue to flick off the bathroom light, but no sooner than he had was Steve sitting up rod straight with a note of panic in his voice. "No! No, don't—don't turn it off, please. You have to leave it on."
Eddie turned it back on immediately and stepped away like he'd been burned, shame crawling warm and red across his neck and face. Fucking obviously Steve would've turned the light off if he'd wanted to. And Eddie, in his continued obliviousness, hadn't even thought twice before presuming otherwise.
"Shit, I'm sorry, man. I didn't think," he said, dragging a hand roughly through his hair.
Steve blinked, then sighed and sank back against his pillows with a mild frown. "No, don't. . . it's not your fault. You couldn't have known. Sorry for yelling," he said, scrubbing a tired hand over his face. "Just crack the door, if you don't mind. That'll be fine."
Part of Eddie wanted to leave the entire door open and turn the bedroom and hallway lights on as well, because that would probably make Steve more comfortable, but he knew better than to argue. He cracked the door as he was told until just a sliver of warm light spilled out into the darkened room.
He padded toward the open side of the bed. Each step felt like a death sentence, because Steve was there waiting under the covers with his fluffy hair and doe eyes and perfect little constellations of moles across his creamy skin, and Eddie was so supremely fucked because there was no way he was sleeping there and being normal about it.
And the worst part was, Steve didn't even know. He didn't know the way Eddie thought about him, the way Eddie had wanted him so bad it almost physically hurt for months now. Didn't know the way his long lashes and the pretty curve of his mouth kept him up at night, fantasizing about something that would never come to pass.
Because Steve was perfect and good and straight, and Eddie was none of those things. Steve had a life ahead of him, and a nice one, too, one with kids and a dog and a wife that would probably wind up being Nancy Wheeler if the way he looked at her was any indication.
Of course, he knew Steve wouldn't hate him if he knew the truth. Robin had told him that Steve was good about that. A real ally, and all that jazz. Which was great. Really, it was.
But that didn't make it sting any less. Knowing that whatever he felt would always be unrequited.
"Eddie? You alright?"
Eddie snapped back into the present. Steve was staring up at him with a crease between his brows and that little confused tilt of his head that Eddie loved so much. He realized abruptly that he'd been standing at the side of the bed in silence for an awkward length of time.
He flushed and nodded jerkily. "Yeah, uh. Just thinking, sorry."
Steve nodded slowly. Eddie flashed what he hoped was an easy smile and braced himself before finally pulling back the covers and settling into his side of the bed.
For all his parents' money, Eddie would have really expected Steve to have a larger mattress than this. Or maybe it was large, and Steve had just decided to lay dead in the middle. Whatever the case, no matter how far Eddie scooted toward the edge of the bed, Steve was close enough that Eddie could feel his body heat radiating like a fucking space heater.
And damn it, it was nice. Eddie ran cold, always had. Steve was warm. Eddie knew this from first hand experience, had exchanged enough friendly touches that he could testify to the truth of the statement, but he'd never experienced it like this.
Eddie was still in his own head when the thunder outside started up again. There was a quiet buzzing sound from across the room, and then the bathroom light flickered.
It was just once, barely even noticeable unless you were watching for it, but Steve went completely rigid right away. Eddie glanced over and found him staring at the cracked bathroom door, eyes wide and body fraught with tension.
His concern for his own inner turmoil fell away as quickly as if it were never there. He sat up with his back against the headboard and shuffled further into the bed toward Steve until their bodies were pressed against each other side by side. "Hey, you're okay, it was just the storm. Just all that lightning messing up the power lines again, alright?"
Even in the dim light, Steve looked ghostly pale. His jaw was clenched hard enough that Eddie thought it might hurt, but he nodded tightly. "The storm," he echoed hoarsely.
Eddie nodded. He placed one hand on Steve's shoulder and pet him gently, encouraging him to meet his eyes. It worked after a few seconds, and Steve tilted his chin up.
"That's right, Stevie. Just the storm," he repeated softly.
Steve was still rigid with fear and trying unsuccessfully to hide it. Eddie acted on instinct when he gently tugged him in toward his side. Steve went easily, and Eddie was struck again by how eager he seemed for touch. It was something to note for the future.
They shuffled around a minute before finally settling on a comfortable position: Eddie propped up slightly against the plush pillows, and Steve draped across him with his head laid against his chest and his body tucked closely against his side. It was an awfully damning position for Eddie, considering that Steve could definitely hear how wildly his heart was beating. But with how easily his fear had already begun to melt away, he couldn't bring himself to care.
Some time passed with them lying there in silence. The rain continued, and so too did the thunder. But now every time there was a distant rumble, Eddie was there to hold Steve when he shuddered. His hand found his soft hair again, and he traced nonsensical patterns in his scalp and along the base of his neck until he went lax.
When he spoke, he wasn't sure if Steve was awake. "Do you want to talk about it at all?"
Silence. And then, after a while, "No."
Eddie wet his dry lips. He tugged at a strand of Steve's hair, twirling it around his index finger and then letting it unravel. "You should. Doesn't have to be to me, necessarily, even though I wouldn't mind. I would encourage it, actually. But you should. To someone."
More silence. Steve's voice was softer when he spoke next, and heavy with sleep. More than that, though, there was a rawness to it that made Eddie's chest ache. "I just—I get scared sometimes. About the lights, mostly, but other things, too. It's not a big deal. I can get over it pretty quickly."
"Other things?" Eddie prompted, letting his blunt fingernails scratch at the short fuzzy hairs at the base of Steve's neck.
He felt him shrug. "I don't know. The forest, for one. My pool. The lake now, too, I guess. And the dark. I don't like the dark."
There was a lot to unpack there. The pool especially was something that Eddie was curious about, but he filed it away to prod at another time. No need to rehash even more bad memories after a night like tonight.
"And do you ever, like, talk to anyone about it? A therapist? Your parents, maybe?"
Steve snorted softly at that. "Yeah, no. No therapist. Definitely not my parents, either. Not sure I even talk to them at all," he said, the bitterness in his tone a tangible thing.
Eddie frowned, his old curiosity about Mr. and Mrs. Harrington resurfacing. It had always seemed like a shifty subject for Steve, but the outright disdain was new. He added that topic to the 'talk about later' pile as well.
"Alight, then. No therapist and no parents. Gotcha," he said. They lapsed into silence. He focused on the sound of Steve's breathing over the rain, soft and slow. "You can always talk to me, y'know. I meant that. Not trying to be corny or anything, but, well. I'm here for you."
Steve huffed another little laugh, and Eddie felt the warm puff of air against his neck. "Believe me, Munson, you do not want to deal with my shit."
Eddie's heart twisted. The real kicker here was the fact that he sounded sure of it. Like he really, truly believed that whatever it was he was going through, whatever it was he had bottled up and hid from the world, was so much of a burden that he couldn't ever bother anyone else with it.
It wasn't fair. He deserved more. Eddie would give him more.
He dragged his fingers languidly though his hair again, trying to communicate purely through the touch how much he cared. How much he wanted to help Steve bear whatever it was he was carrying on his shoulders.
"You're just. . . you're so good to us, to all of us. And you never ask anything in return, you know that? Never," Eddie began, so soft that he could barely hear himself over the rain. "You look after everyone, Steve. Who's looking after you?"
Steve was silent. Eddie wondered if he'd said too much, if he'd gone too far, but then he felt the even rise and fall of Steve's chest against his side and realized he'd finally fallen asleep.
The storm rumbled somewhere far away, and the rain kept pouring, and Eddie held Steve close to his side until he followed him to sleep.