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He's climbing his way out of the upside down. He's more animal than not. There's no coherent thought in his brain besides feedfeedfeedfeed. It's a dark night. There are no stars out and the moon is in hiding. It's the perfect time for a hunt.
He searches and searches. He feasts on a few deer and an unfortunate drunk he comes across but... none of them seemed to satisfy the itch in his teeth. He feels frustration burn in his chest, and he longs. Aches for something he can't name.
He haunts the lonely streets of Hawkins for some time. He dodges any headlights that come his way and he manages to stay hidden as he wanders about. His head is still full of fog, and he can't quite piece together what's happened to him.
What am I? Who am I?
He tugs at his hair until he feels his scalp sting instead of digging his nails into his own flesh like he wants to. He can't remember anything. Everything before tonight feels blocked off and too far for him to reach.
That's when he catches the first whiff of it. It's barely there but his nose caught it nonetheless. It's... nearly indescribable. It makes his mouth water. He breathes in deep. And suddenly he's moving. The scenery flies past him in blurred flashes, and he's no longer concerned with not being seen. It doesn't matter if he's spotted, and it wouldn't make a difference if he was. Nothing is going to stand between him and the source of this scent he's picked up.
Where is it? Where are you?
He arrives at a large house. The driveway was illuminated by a shining porch light and each window was lit and bright. It felt like one giant beam of light. A beacon. A terrible place for prey to hide. Unless his prey wasn't trying hide. (Unless his prey wasn't prey at all)
It seemed this little creature intended to be found.
Getting inside the house proved a bit difficult. Every door and window was locked tight, but he was nothing if not a good hunter. He'd crushed bones and torn through pounds of flesh with his bare hands; a single slab of flimsy glass was nothing. The only sounds coming from the house were all concentrated in the living room downstairs, so he decided to enter through the highest room on the farthest side of the house.
Shattered glass crunched beneath his boots as he dropped down onto the carpeted floor. The air here was stale. There were thick layers of dust settled across every surface. Despite being in the same house as his prey, he somehow could not catch their scent here. It unnerved him a bit. This room has been untouched for quite some time. He exited the room quickly.
The floorboards didn't groan beneath his weight as he made his way towards the living room, and he almost felt angry at how little effort he has to put into being silent. He could run through this house and it would hardly make a difference. His prey would still be blissfully unaware to the monster lurking through the halls above them. They didn't stand a chance. It was almost unfair.
The scent is the strongest its ever been when he gets to the top stairs. The smell hits him so hard he nearly stumbles backwards with the invisible force of it. He steels himself and carefully starts making his way down. The scent gets richer with every step and it's intoxicating. He makes it to the bottom of the staircase without realizing it. He's creeping his way towards the living room where he's sure his prize is located. He needs to find this creature now.
His head feels so warm and hazy and good. That must be why he missed the frantic heartbeat coming from behind him.
He's pulled out of his trance by the sharp pain of having a vase broken over his head.
His instincts kick in before his brain can catch up and all of a sudden, he's sprinting towards the living room and ducking for cover behind the couch.
"What the fuck!?" says a familiar voice. But he doesn't have time to decipher why this voice is familiar. Right now, he's hunting. Right now, he's preparing himself to go in for the kill.
Despite not having eyes on the creature, he begins to put together what little information he does have. His prey is sweating, and he's scared. He smells divine. His heart is going a mile a minute and his breathing is close to ragged. This little thing should be running away but he's surprised to realize that it's making its way closer. Curious creature you are. Poor sense of survival but curious, nonetheless.
He decides he's wasted enough time as he launches himself over the couch and pounces.
His prey grunts as they go down and mutters a shit as they hit the ground hard. He's in the process of wrapping his hand around the creature's neck when the sight of shiny brown hair stops him in his tracks. His free hand reaches for a brown strand. He barely has time to appreciate the silky softness of it between his fingers as a sharp pain explodes across his stomach. He's being shoved backwards and the next thing he sees is the high ceiling of the living room. What a strong little thing I've decided to chase.
His muscles tense up as he feels the pain radiate from his stomach and through his body again. He realizes that whatever he'd been struck with had still been lodged in his body and it had just been yanked back out. His abdomen feels torn up. It'll take quite a bit of energy to heal it. He huffs in annoyance. He's still sprawled out on the floor and staring upwards when he hears a sharp intake of breath come from his prey. Somehow, his heartbeat speeds up even more but his scent has changed. He's still afraid but there's a hint of something else. There's something hopeful there.
"...Eddie? Is that you, man?" the creature whispers, voice quivering and wet.
Eddie? Who's Eddie? Who's he talking to?
He sits up and ignores the burning sting of his abdomen. He places a hand over his bleeding wound as he watches his prey slowly step backwards. His eyes zero in on the weapon in his trembling hand. It's a bat full of nails. It's ridiculous. It's familiar. Why is it familiar?
Slowly his eyes travel up the path of his preys' body and stop at the sight of blue denim. He's wearing a vest. This is significant somehow. It's stained with old blood, and it carries the stench of the place of his rebirth. It's a bit tattered and he gets the feeling it didn't always look this way. This vest feels familiar too.
He doesn't realize he's been staring for so long until he hears the bat whine in protest under the strong grip of the creature's hand.
"Eddie? Answer me please." When he finally finally looks up and meets the eyes of this prize he's been chasing, he feels like he's taken another blow to the stomach.
Because he knows those eyes. He's familiar with the warmth of them. He's familiar with the feeling of being pinned down by these eyes. He knows what it's like to look down into them and want to stay.
His prey (prey?) must see the flicker of recognition flash across his features because his face softens slightly.
"Is it really you?" His voice is soft again. Hopeful and afraid.
"I," His voice is scary thing and the creature flinches at the grating sound of it. "I don't... know."
He watches as those eyes clench shut. He nearly cries out for them. Please do not hide them from me. Let me see. Steve, please. Please.
Steve? Steve. Steve.
"S-steve." He croaks out. He feels relief course through him as his prey- Steve's eyes shoot back open.
And oh. Of course, it's Steve. Who else could make him ache this way? It warms something in his chest to know that his name is the first name he's spoken in this form.
"Steve." he repeats. That ridiculous bat falls to the ground with a loud clatter.
It's as if he's physically struck him with the way Steve stumbles backwards and falls. As soon as he hits the ground, he scrambles back even further until his back is pressed against the wall. He pulls his knees in until they're close to his chest like he's trying to roll up into a ball and become as small as possible. His chest is heaving, and he looks so conflicted and it's breaking his heart and he just wants to reach for him-
It doesn't register that he's actually started leaning forward towards Steve until he sees the human flinch and try even harder to become one with the wall. He stills for a moment. He doesn't want Steve to be afraid, but he needs to get to him right now. Now that he knows that it's Steve he's been chasing, he's itching to be close to him. He decides he needs to go about this delicately then. Nice and slow for Steve. He needs to restrain his urge to just bound towards him and wrap himself around him. Anything for Steve.
His moves at an almost comically slow pace. He wants Steve to be able to see everything he's doing. The human may no longer be his prey, but that doesn't mean he no longer feels like prey. He sets both of his hands on the floor. A flash of red catches in his peripheral and he realizes his hand is bloody and wet from where it had been clutching his stomach. Steve seems to be focusing on it. He wears a pained expression like he feels guilty. I'm alright, sweet thing.
Being on his hands and knees and crawling his way towards Steve felt like the most natural thing in the world.
He must've made a quite a picture, he thinks to himself. He was a large thing. Everything about him felt too big. Too long. His limbs, his nails, his hair. His black claws curve just a bit and scratch against the ground as he moves. His dark hair hangs limp around his face, and he can feel that there are pieces stuck to his neck and cheeks with the blood of his kills. He was a messy eater. His wings and sharp teeth are hidden for now. He was a predator through and through.
To see something so dangerous, something that exuded power and death, to see something like that kneel and submit itself to a creature so delicate, must've been a sight to behold. But Steve was worthy of this display. Steve was worthy of everything this beast had to offer.
Steve didn't look away from him the whole time he slowly crawled towards him. He was frozen. It wasn't until he was close enough to touch that Steve seemed to come out of whatever trance he was in.
"Eddie... Holy shit, Eddie. I... It's..." He gasped out. He raised a trembling hand towards his face, a silent question of can I touch? It was a silly thing to ask permission for. Steve could do as he pleased.
Eager for his touch, he shoved his face into his waiting palm and let his eyes drift shut. He was warm. Steve was always warm. He'd rather die than live to see the day where Steve wasn't warm. A hand cupping his other cheek made him sigh deeply and audibly. A lovesick kind of sound. He felt a small puff of air rustle his bangs and he realized that Steve had just laughed. Beautiful thing.
"Look at me." Steve whispered. There was no command in his voice. Just an edge of subtle desperation.
He dragged his heavy eyes opens and got lost in deep brown pools once again. Steve had such kind eyes. Big and round. Welcoming and gorgeous. They were so sad and so pretty. Steve should never be sad.
"Do you know who you are, Ed's? You don't... You don't seem to recognize your own name, bud." The blank stare he gave him must've been answer enough.
The hands on his face suddenly became firm. Steve pulled him in and leaned in close.
"I don't know what exactly happened to you after... after we left you," His voice cracked harshly on the last two words, but he tried to hide it by clearing his throat. He failed miserably. "But you're here now. Somehow... you're here, Eddie. And regardless of what that place did to you while you were trapped there, you're still you. You're still Eddie Munson. If you don't remember, then I'll remind you. Everyday. All the time. Whenever you need it. But it's ok if you don't remember right now, alright? All that matters is that you found your way to me. You found your way to someone that wants to help you. I'm going to take care of you, ok? I won't leave you. Not again. Never again, Eds." Steve was crying by the time he finished speaking. His cheeks were blotchy and wet from his tears. His eyes were red rimmed and sad. So sad. Don't be sad, sweet thing. Not over me.
He- Eddie brought himself even closer to Steve. He pressed himself against him and crowded around him. Eddie forced his large body in between his bent legs and knelt there. He pulled Steve's hands away from his face and pressed soft kisses to his knuckles. He held on to them tightly as he leaned down. His inky black hair slipped off his shoulders and formed a dark curtain around both of their faces. It was just them. Eddie and Steve.
Speaking still felt too new and unnatural so he decided to communicate through touch instead. He pressed his cheek against Steve's and nuzzled into it. He could feel himself purr. His cheek was tacky from his drying tears, and he smelled even stronger up close like this. Eddie gently dropped Steve's hands and wrapped his arms around his torso. He let himself slip down Steve's body so that he could press his face against his chest. His heart pounded away loudly, and Eddie could hear the blood rushing through his veins. So warm and alive and perfect. So perfect Steve so perfect-
"Holy shit, Eddie, you're still bleeding! Fuck why didn't you say anything?! Shit shit shit I'm so sorry about that, man." Steve continued to rattle off apologies as he tried to push Eddie off of him to assess the damage, but Eddie was having none of that. He was comfortable and content for the first time in ages and he was not about to move just because his silly little human wanted to tend to a wound that was already half healed.
Steve grumbled angrily when he realized Eddie had no intention of letting him up, but Eddie could smell how not angry Steve truly was. Eddie shoved his face deeper into Steve's chest in attempt to chase that sweet smell of happy Steve when he froze. He inhaled once, twice. Oh. Oh.
This vest is mine, Eddie realized. He could tell Steve had attempted to scrub it clean but Eddie's scent was so strongly woven into the fabric that it still lingered. Beneath the fragrance of laundry detergent and Steve, beneath the smell of old blood and the stench of that place, was the smell of him. There was the smell of Eddie. Of the person, the human, he used to be. And Steve was wearing him. Steve was wrapping himself in his scent.
Steve was unknowingly marking himself as claimed.
It's no wonder Eddie had felt so out of control. Feral. Steve had been calling to him, beckoning him without realizing. He'd combined their scents in a way that screamed I'm yours. I'm yours so come and find me.
Eddie squeezed Steve a little tighter and pulled him impossibly closer.
I found you, baby.