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“You get tired faster, too?” Eddie’s voice startles Steve out of the light dozing he was partaking in, laid out on a towel next to their gear.
Steve’s objections to heading out to the lake on such a sticky summer day had been overruled.
Eyes shielded from view by his sunglasses, he briefly considers pretending he’s asleep. “Yeah,” Steve finally replies, wanting to leave it at that.
“I bet swimming sucks now, too,” Eddie replies, his tone sympathetic. “It’s strange, isn’t it?”
Steve’s hum is noncommittal, remaining neutral to Eddie’s questioning. He isn’t much of a swimmer these days, choosing to stick to the pool at his house if he can’t resist the urge. Even then, within the confines of his own home, he can find himself filled with dread. All of this is exacerbated by how much his endurance has depleted in the past couple years. You can only find yourself bloodied, bruised, and beaten so many times before it all starts taking its toll.
“I wasn’t super active before, but sometimes I feel like I can’t catch my fucking breath,” Eddie barrels on, encouraged by Steve’s continued lack of response. “It’s like I’m choking on my own blood all over again.”
Steve feels himself wince and dislikes how unsettled he feels. It is with grim casualness that Eddie discusses the events of the upside-down, never shying away from them. His words conjure up images of a limp body, blood-soaked clothes, and the sound of ragged tears.
“I’m sorry,” is what slips out of Steve’s mouth. It feels a lot like he’s apologizing for everything he couldn’t have foreseen. As if he’s apologizing for their arrogance and all the naiveté that allowed harm to find them.
Eddie narrows his eyes at Steve, his neck craning to look at him thoughtfully before all emotion is wiped away. “Shit, man, me too,” his tone remaining light. “But you were an athlete and everything. I’m sure that blow is more brutal.”
“You died,” Steve replies as he pushes himself up into a seated position, staring off where everyone else is enjoying the lake. His problems seem almost insignificant in comparison.
“And yet, miraculously, I’m here,” Eddie retorts.
Steve thinks he hears a grin in his voice and is sure of it from all the times he’s spent carefully watching Eddie on the sidelines for months. He catches a glance over at Eddie, and there it is. His grin is blinding, and Steve can find no hidden emotion layered under it. He’s at a loss for words when it comes to discussing Eddie’s death with this smiling version of him, who appears to have taken it like a punch to the jaw.
Steve doesn’t dwell on the horrific memories of what they’ve been through out of self-preservation. This last time was far more arduous than the times before. You might call it luck, but Steve’s not sure if living past the horrors is anything short of punishment when you have to live with the scars to prove it.
Eddie finds it in himself to fill the silence once more. “I never thought of you as a disasterist,” he says.
“That’s not a real word,” Steve grumbles. His mind is still stuck on the miracle of being able to talk to Eddie.
“Sorry, Merriam-Webster,” Eddie replies with a roll of his eyes.
Steve feels the corners of his mouth twitch involuntarily. He wonders if this is why he doesn’t talk to Eddie—not the smart remarks, but the capability he has to say them at all. How do you face someone who has turned their back on death and believe yourself to have anything worthwhile to say?
The conversation tapers off when Steve is left with nothing to say back. They remain in undisturbed silence until the sun has reached the horizon. It’s then that Eddie gets up to get himself a beer.
“You want one?” Eddie asks, looking over his shoulder at Steve from where he’s crouched by the cooler.
“I’m driving,” Steve tells him. He could technically pass the task off to Robin now that she has her license and has vowed to remain sober after one memorable evening of drinking, but drinking makes him too loose and vulnerable. Being that way around Eddie still frightens him.
“Bummer,” Eddie replies. Steve watches him twist the bottle cap off with his teeth and rubs at his own jaw in sympathy, imagining how painful it must be.
“Is it safe to do that?” Steve asks after a second.
“I can’t say, but I haven’t cracked a tooth yet,” Eddie says, throwing a wink in his direction as he makes the short trek back towards the camping chairs, this time opting to sit next to Steve on the ground. “My dentist told me once that teeth are jewels, not tools,” Eddie says with a snort. “I’m evidently a perfect patient.”
Unsure of what to say, Steve slowly gets up to move towards the portable pit they’d brought with them to start building a fire.
“Are you a boy scout?” Eddie asks in jest as Steve pours some lighter fluid into the pit.
Steve huffs a laugh as he strikes a match. “That would’ve been preferable to ballroom dance classes,” he replies as he flicks the lit match onto the kindling.
“What?” Eddie asks as he launches a random twig into the flames.
“My mom,” Steve tells him, as if it explains anything at all. “She hated the idea of me being a rough and tumble kind of little boy, much to the dismay of my father, who was a boy scout legacy,” Steve replies as he moves into a standing position and wipes his hands off on his thighs. “It broke my mom’s heart when I decided I wanted to get into sports.” He shrugs as he plants himself back onto the towel he had been previously occupying.
“Did you have to wear a little suit and tie?” Eddie asks with humor in his voice.
“Bowtie,” Steve stage whispers, and it makes Eddie laugh, his eyes crinkling at the corners with his dimples on full display.
Seeing this up close makes Steve’s breath catch. Months of watching Eddie from afar as they coexisted in the same space did very little to prepare him for the reality of actually getting to know him. He can feel the way it makes him want to clam up immediately and return to single-syllable replies and curt head nods.
It feels a little too late for that when Eddie pipes up again, “You’ve got to show me pictures sometime. If that’s okay, or whatever.”
Steve can’t help but note how the skittishness Eddie had exhibited when they first met has returned; it feels wrong on him, like an ill-fitting suit three sizes too small.
“Sure,” Steve says, and he watches as some of the playfulness returns to Eddie’s eyes.
_______________________
“You come here often?” Eddie asks as he sidles up to Steve.
They’re in the Wheeler’s basement, where they’ve come together to celebrate Nancy’s 19th birthday. Steve had been sipping his beer slowly as he leaned against the wall farthest away from the small crowd, doing his best impression of a wallflower. He’s gotten more comfortable blending into the background lately and prefers it.
“Not really,” Steve replies as he feels Eddie bump his shoulder. It’s a rather new development in their acquaintance: physical contact. The first time it happened, Steve nearly jumped out of his skin. It hadn’t been anything big — just a hand on his bicep when they’d nearly crashed into each other at the grocery store. Eddie has laughed and told him he couldn’t have shrunk all that much in the short time since they’d last seen each other.
Steve had spent the rest of the day feeling as if everyone could see the mark of Eddie’s hand on him. On more than one occasion that day, Steve’s own hand came to rest there, a stand-in for a slowly fading note of connection.
“Glad I caught you then. Are you having a good time?” Eddie moves in a little closer to Steve so he can hear him over the music. The length of him pressed against Steve’s left side feels like a furnace in the already warm room.
Steve shrugs in reply, knowing Eddie can feel the movement as he scans the room in favor of looking over at him.
“Wheeler’s parents are kind of buzzkills,” Eddie tells him as he leans even closer. At this proximity, Steve can barely hear the music over Eddie’s voice. He can smell the hint of tobacco that is ever-present around Eddie.
“I had dinner with them once. It was interesting,” Steve says as he turns to look over at Eddie, who has only backed away slightly. Steve feels himself nearly go cross-eyed as he tries to make eye contact with him.
“The almost-in-laws,” Eddie says in a deep, menacing voice. He turns away from Steve to get a look at the room, and his vantage point seems to settle on Nancy. “Do you think you would’ve married her if things were different?”
The questions give Steve pause. It’s a far too daring question to ask someone, but it’s preferable to small talk, so Steve will take what he can get. He thinks it over and takes another sip of his beer. “Probably,” Steve tells him.
Steve’s never been much of a thinker when it came to the idea of the future. He was always too busy, caught up in everything he wasn't doing right then and there. But he’d be lying if he said Nancy hadn’t given him pause and a push to reevaluate his life in ways he hadn’t before. Steve had a moment of clarity when they’d first gotten together; he'd seen the full picture and imagined what the next 20 years could look like for him. Losing her felt like getting a bucket of ice-cold water over the head.
“And you’re just letting her go?” Eddie asks, his hand moving to grasp at the neck of the bottle Steve is holding before slowly extracting it from his hold.
Steve watches in befuddlement as Eddie tips the beer back and takes a long swig as he raises an eyebrow at Steve, prompting him to answer.
“That’s a bit reductive,” Steve replies without any further expansion.
“How so?” Eddie asks because nothing with him can just be.
“We’ve grown up and gone sideways. She’s happy, and I’m—” his hand, now free of the bottle, flexes. “And I’m fine," he said, getting the words out feels like pulling teeth.
He hates the way it sounds like he’s still not over her. There’s no more pining left in him. A love confession while fighting for your lives felt nothing short of a grasp at sanity, because being with Nancy and fixing what he had broken there felt like it could fix everything. But it was never going to fix anything, and he’s glad he knows that now.
“Oof!” Eddie releases a sympathetic groan as he hands him back his beer. “You might need this more than me.”
“I don’t love her anymore, if you were concerned,” Steve rolls his eyes, tone annoyed. “You know there’s a fridge stocked with beer on the other side of the room, right?” Is a futile attempt at steering the conversation away from Nancy.
“You’re closer,” Eddie replies with a smirk, snagging the beer back from Steve. “I didn’t think you’d mind.” He takes a quick sip, his hand coming to swipe at the droplet that escaped out of the corner of his lips, moving to run down his chin.
Steve doesn’t mind. It’s not an uncommon practice among the group to swipe each other’s drinks at a party, but he and Eddie simply never have until now.
“I don’t. I just didn’t think we were that close,” Steve says before he can stop himself. He doesn’t miss the slight downturn of Eddie’s mouth before he returns his face to normal. “I didn’t mean we weren't friendly. Look, I’m just horrible at being social.”
Eddie turns to face him, his brow furrowed and eyes narrowed. He looks skeptical about the comment, and Steve can’t blame him. “No one in this room can shut the fuck up about you and how funny you are, but you’re horrible at being social." Eddie asks.
“That was before,” Steve replies quickly before taking the beer from Eddie’s hand and taking the final swig. “At least, that’s what Robin says. She’s still trying to teach me to be more open to new and different things.”
Eddie cocks his head, examining Steve for a second before asking, “Am I new and different?”
He slinks away immediately, stalking off to the other corner of the room and grabbing a beer from the fridge before gluing himself to Nancy’s side. Steve watches them with curiosity; their friendship still feels strange to him. It doesn’t make immediate sense on the surface, but in many ways, he supposes it may. They both scare the shit out of him in their own unique ways, so they have that going in their defense.
And an hour or so later, when the kids have started filtering out to go to sleep, Robin finally comes to find him after sneaking glances at him the whole evening. She drags him to the center of the room without a word for a slow dance to a song that does not call for one. She gently pats his hair and asks him if everything is alright. Steve doesn’t know if it is, but he just burrows in closer and nods his head from where it’s resting atop hers. The song slowly comes to an end, and she pinches him on the side before letting him go and telling him to stop being his own buzzkill.
Once free from Robin’s well-intentioned scrutiny, Steve grabs his jacket and takes the stairs up two at a time without saying a word to anyone.
He shivers when he gets past the screen door before slumping on the stairs leading down to the Wheeler’s backyard. The crisp night air feels harsh against his skin but allows his mind to clear, which is often a rarity. He plucks a pack of cigarettes out of his jacket pocket and precariously dangles one between his lips, not committing to the act of smoking just yet. He sits there, feeling the cigarette butt soften from the warm moisture of his breath in opposition to the cold autumn air. He brings out the lighter and flicks it once, twice before the flame comes alive. The bright light of the flame feels too abrasive in the stillness of this evening.
He takes a drag and throws his head back to blow smoke rings directly towards the night sky. The stars are out in full force tonight, with the dim door light doing little to lessen their effect. He takes a few more drags and tries to pick out the constellations as he feels himself relax further. He wishes he were less tense, but it gets harder as the years go by. Life doesn’t feel as solid as it used to when he was younger, before everything. It’s difficult to drop his shoulders from where they’re always set near his ears now. It’s difficult to find a reprise when you’ve watched everything crumble right in front of your eyes more than once.
His mind circles around Eddie and that first meeting of theirs. He freaked Steve out then just as much as he does now. Eddie is an unstoppable force, unyielding in his authenticity. Steve envies him that— an idea that would have been laughable to previous versions of him but now settles heavy like a lead balloon in his gut. He wants to ask Eddie how he does it. Steve needs to know how he has seemingly moved on and adapted because he’s trying so fucking hard on his own, but it’s exhausting.
He’s about finished with his cigarette and ready to settle himself back on his elbows against the stairs when he hears the screen door creak open.
“Robin, I don’t want to deal with your mother henning,” he sighs, his breath forming fog in its wake.
“Lucky for you, I’m not Robin,” a voice replies as Steve's head whips around to look over his shoulder to find Eddie there, approaching the stairs. “Can I bum one?” Eddie grunts as he clumsily settles himself a step under Steve, wincing as he leans too much on his right wrist.
“Is your wrist alright?” Steve asks tactlessly.
“A little rusty, but still good,” Eddie replies. As far as Steve knows, it’s never quite been the same since the upside-down, but Eddie is still able to play. Not for as long as he used to be able to, but just long enough.
Steve picks the pack up from where he’d placed it beside him and tosses it at Eddie, who somehow fumbles the catch from just inches away. Steve takes the final drag of his own cigarette and crushes it beneath the heel of his shoe. He watches as Eddie delicately taps the box against his wrist to aid the release, being careful not to touch any of the others as he takes his pick.
“Got a light?” Steve asks him as Eddie pulls the cigarette up to his lips.
Eddie shakes his head. “I left it downstairs with Gareth, and it got lost before it ever reached Argyle. Light me?”
Steve pulls out the lighter from his inner jacket pocket and, with a shaky hand he attributes to the cold, fails three times to achieve a flame. Eddie huffs a laugh from beside him, a soft, amused sound leaving his lips before he leans forward. Steve thinks he’s going to swipe the lighter from Steve’s hand, but instead he just covers it with his own as he uses his thumb to flick on the lighter in one try. Steve watches, entranced, as Eddie brings their hands closer to himself and tilts his head to catch the cigarette on the flame.
Steve can see when it lights cherry red and makes a minuscule movement to pull his hand back, but Eddie holds firm. His gaze moves slowly, like molasses, to focus on Steve’s for just a second before letting him go. The drag he takes is long, and Steve swallows thickly as Eddie exposes the long line of his throat to blow out the smoke. It takes a second to be lost to the wind, forming swirls against the night sky.
“Should you be smoking?” Steve asks him, remembering the conversation at the lake from a while back. Eddie had suffered some minor damage to his lungs, but Steve still has a hard time placing fragility and Eddie in the same category.
“Probably not,” Eddie replies with a laugh. “Thanks for your concern. Jonathan gets pissed at me whenever I do it in front of him. Promise not to tell on me?” He asks Steve this conspiratorially, like they’ve made a proper habit of sharing and keeping secrets.
“He knows it’s a habit I haven’t kicked yet, but on the off chance he chooses to ignore it today, I’m counting on you to take it to the grave.” He holds out an extended pinky toward Steve with an expectant look on his face.
Steve feels his mouth twist up in consideration before he hooks his pinky with Eddie’s. “I can’t catch the slack for endangering your health,” he says as Eddie smirks at him and squeezes Steve’s pinky between his own pinky and ring finger. The cold metal of Eddie’s rings burns against Steve’s skin.
“Why the rings?” Steve surprises himself by asking as Eddie retracts his pinky.
Eddie takes a long drag before blowing the smoke out in a large, ungraceful huff. He gives Steve a half-shrug and rolls his neck. “I don’t know anymore,” Eddie says. “They’ve felt a lot more like relics of old times lately.” Eddie scratches the back of his neck with his free hand as he takes another quick drag. He clears his throat before continuing. “They make me feel normal. They were a connection to me before all of this sh*t went down. And, yeah, they carry the weight of the bad shit, too, but they’re the closest thing I can get to feeling like the old me.”
Steve thinks this feels too vulnerable and too trusting. He doesn’t know what to do with the information, even though he asked. Steve feels like his whole worldview has been flipped upside down. The idea that Eddie could be struggling with it all just as much as the rest of them had never, for one second, crossed his mind. “Like a safety blanket?” Steve should really stop asking questions.
Eddie giggles at that. “Yeah, that’s a good way of thinking about it. It used to be my battle vest, but I haven’t gotten it back from the dry cleaners,” Eddie’s statement points
Steve feels his face heat up at that. It’s not like he’s forgotten to give it back. On the contrary, Steve has gone through a multitude of scenarios in his head where he does deliver the vest back to its rightful owner. He either forgets to bring it to him a lot or tells himself he does. Steve treats it similarly to the way Eddie does his rings and allows it to be a tangible reminder that Eddie is here and that, by some miracle, they’re all here. “I’ll bring it with me next time I see you.” The lie spills out with only a mild stutter.
“You’ve been saying that for months,” Eddie replies with a smile. “At this point, I’ve given up hope that I’ll ever see it. Maybe she’s serving her purpose, too.” There’s a knowing look in Eddie’s eyes, like he’s finally pieced together why Steve won’t give it back.
Steve feels suddenly stripped bare. “Wanna head back inside?” Steve asks for a way to steer the conversation elsewhere.
Eddie wrinkles his nose as he shakes his head. “Stay out here with me a little longer? I know it’s warmer in there, but—,“ Eddie never finishes the statement. He only turns away from Steve and looks up at the night sky, his legs pressed against his chest by the arms wrapped around them.
He’s not wearing a jacket, and Steve can see the way he rubs the palms of his hands against his bare forearms to stimulate warmth. “Cold?” Steve asks as he slips his arm out of his jacket without a second thought. His gray windbreaker is more appropriate for cold summer nights than the end of autumn, but something is better than nothing.
“Nah,” Eddie replies without looking over at him, but he’s curled into himself a little further, his legs pulled to his chest by his bare arms.
Steve rolls his eyes before he drapes his jacket over Eddie’s shoulders. “I’m pretty good with the cold,” he blurts out before Eddie can find it in himself to protest.
Eddie turns over to him, eyes wide and curious. He holds Steve’s gaze until Steve can take it no longer and looks away, stumbling upon Ursa Major in his attempt to distract himself from the way he can feel Eddie’s gaze burning into the side of his face from where he hasn’t stopped staring.
“Come here,” Eddie says after a short while of silence. Steve notes the way he’s slid his arms into the sleeves of his jacket; it fits him well, if not a little big. His lengthy curls are trapped under the collar of the jacket, and Steve has to resist the urge to fish them out for him.
“What?” Steve asks, confused.
“Come. Here.” Eddie punctuates both words.
Steve can’t help but think they’re already as close as they can be, but he slides down to rest on the same step as Eddie. It’s a bit of a tight fit, and Eddie has to move a little over to the left before they’re both seated comfortably.
“Hey,” Eddie breathes out.
It’s then that Steve takes in how much more intimate this is than their previous position on the steps. The heat radiating off Eddie is enticing, the cold having seeped deep into Steve’s bones in the last couple minutes without his jacket or a cigarette to provide warmth. No one can blame him for leaning into Eddie, his head nearly lolling onto his shoulder.
“What did you want to tell me you couldn’t have from 3 inches away?" Steve asks to mask the nerves he suddenly feels.
“Not tell. I wanted to ask,” Eddie replies in a whisper. “But please tell me if I’m overstepping.”
Steve can feel his face form into a frown. “Okay,” he says, because he doesn’t know what else to say with Eddie being so cryptic.
“Is the battle vest like the rings for you?” Eddie asks in the smallest voice that Steve almost can’t hear, even in the quiet stillness of this night.
Steve bites the inside of his cheek. This feels like a test from the universe. It’s a mockery of the concept of choice when there is no way to not let Eddie in when he’s already carved space for himself in Steve’s chest.
“Yeah,” Steve replies. He’s so tired of pretending that that shit is fine. If Eddie wants to flay him open on the deck of his ex-girlfriend’s house, then so be it. “Sometimes life doesn’t feel steady.”
Steve can feel the way Eddie nods beside him. “It’s exhausting to act normal, and I’ve only had one round with this fucker.”
“You probably chose the worst round to get involved in. I promise I would’ve tagged you in on the easier ones,” Steve tries to joke.
“No offense, Steve, but I don’t think any of the rounds were easy. I do appreciate the gesture, though,” Eddie replies warmly.
Steve sighs from beside Eddie. He feels like some weight has come off his shoulders. His head finally drops onto Eddie’s shoulder from the relief he feels to have Eddie understand too.
“I thought you were adjusting well. I was jealous of how put-together you seemed. Robin, Jonathan, Nancy, and the kids—we're all fucked up. We’re walking advertisements for “fake it till you make it”, but you never felt like you were pretending,” Steve reveals. “I spent months mulling over how to breach the subject, but anytime you brought up the upside-down, you would laugh it off. It was alarming and also a little upsetting, but I think that was my own bullshit, my own projection,” Steve finishes.
“God, you really were a popular kid. Everything is always about you, huh?” Eddie jokes as he maneuvers to poke Steve on the side, jostling him off his shoulder in the process. “We’re all fucked up, Steve. Even before the upside-down It just involved less dying.”
“Yeah, I guess so,” Steve replies as he considers the thought.
Steve watches as Eddie holds out both hands for Steve’s inspection.
“Which one’s your favorite?” Eddie asks. “They’re all kind of ugly to you, probably, but pick one.”
“Why?” Steve has lost the plot.
“Just pick one,” Eddie says as he waggles his fingers in front of Steve.
Steve refocuses on Eddie’s hands. His skin looks so pale in the moonlight. His fingers are long and slim and contain calluses, which Steve guesses are caused by years of playing guitar. His nails are bitten short, and the skin surrounding his nail beds is clearly victim to sharp teeth. He has to squint to get the detail of each ring, but he immediately axes all the options on Eddie’s left hand. They’re too abrasive and rather large. He particularly hates the porcine ring, but will be kind enough to keep that to himself.
The options narrow down to one. It’s an intricate, knotted-looking band that meets in the middle to nest a circular gem. Steve can’t tell if the gem is blue or black, but it still sparkles as the moonlight reflects off of it. He would never pick it for himself, but he thinks it’s the one that suits Eddie the most out of all. It makes his hand look more delicate than it usually does. The silver chain he wears on the same wrist complements it perfectly.
“This one,” Steve says as his finger taps on the gem of the ring on Eddie’s right hand.
Eddie hums a surprised sound before he reaches to slide it off his finger. “Good taste, Harrington. Gimme your hand,” Eddie says.
Steve does so unquestioningly. Eddie holds Steve’s hand up, palm to palm, as he slides the ring onto the same finger that it occupied in Eddie’s hand. Steve watches this with bated breath.
“What are you doing?” Steve asks when Eddie still hasn’t let go of his hand.
“A token of my gratitude,” Eddie replies. “Thanks for opening up to me. Let’s head inside.”
Before Steve can formulate a single thought, Eddie has tightened the hold on his right hand. Steve is too busy thinking about whether Eddie is as violently aware of the cool burn of metal against his palm as Steve had been during their pinky promise to worry about how he stumbles a bit as he gets hauled back inside.
Eddie doesn’t drop his hand until they’ve hit the bottom stair of the basement. Everyone except for Nancy has fallen asleep. Steve doesn’t miss the way her eyes linger in the space where Eddie and his linked hands just were, or the way her eyes track the movement of the newly accessorized hand he runs through his hair in a nervous habit.
Because Nancy is the best, she doesn’t say anything. She just smiles a big, dimpled smile in their direction before curling herself into Jonathan’s sleeping form, seemingly content with everyone’s whereabouts enough to get some rest of her own.
Eddie has claimed the bean bag chairs on the back wall of the basement, so Steve takes the only other available spot, which is the empty space next to Robin, where she has curled herself into a fetal position. He falls into a dreamless sleep within seconds.
When he wakes up, Eddie is long gone. He doesn’t notice the missing jacket.
________________
On Steve’s first day off in weeks, he gets roped into an all-night movie marathon over at Eddie’s.
The kids are all crammed on top of one another on the small couch across from the even smaller TV, resulting in Eddie and Steve having to find room within the minimal floor space between the couch and small coffee table. This is by far the least comfortable movie-watching experience Steve has ever had, and that would even include the time he spilled half his drink on himself during a date and insisted he was totally fine sitting in more than slightly damp jeans.
“How many movies can they watch before they fall asleep?” Eddie leans toward him to whisper.
“Are you taking bets?” Steve asks with a raised brow.
“I’m simply surveying the audience,” Eddie replies. “Although, I do have a lovely $20 in my pocket that I could be persuaded to put down,” he says as he waggles his eyebrows at Steve.
“Three, tops,” Steve replies. “And you can keep your money.”
“I’m not little orphan Annie, Steve,” Eddie retorts.
“They’re just predictable, and you can’t grasp the concept of time to save your life, so I’m sparing us all.”
“Very funny.”
Most of the kids have dozed off by the time it gets close to midnight, and they’re almost done with Ghoulies. The only ones awake are El and Max, who had gone to lay in Eddie’s guest room preemptively, not wanting to lose out on prime real estate once Steve decides it’s time to round them all up and send them to their sleeping quarters for the night.
Steve can hear them giggling loudly and opts to give them their peace for as long as possible. He’s only mildly concerned about the complaints he’s going to hear from the boys whose heads are lolled to the side, no doubt about to cause a kink in all their necks.
"Oh, to be young,” Eddie says from beside him.
Steve gives him an odd look before huffing out a laugh. “We’re not that old, are we?”
“No, but we are the only authority figures in the room,” Eddie replies with a groan. “You might be the more responsible party, or maybe you’re the only authority figure. I maintain my youth!”
“You’re older than me,” Steve says as he knocks his shoulder into Eddie’s, making him jostle the coffee table. “This is also your place, so I am not responsible for anything.”
“I’m going to tell Mrs. Henderson you’re not taking proper care of her son,” Eddie warns as he struggles in an attempt to get up off the floor, his hand landing on Steve’s shoulder to steady himself. “Wanna smoke?”
“Probably shouldn’t,” Steve replies as he looks over his shoulder at the teens passed out on the couch. “I also thought you weren’t really into that shit." Eddie has turned down the offers of his own stash, and Argyle’s enough for Steve to have noticed the pattern. He usually sticks to beer and occasionally a cigarette after he’s had a couple drinks and can’t be bothered to know better.
“It helps with the pain.” Eddie holds his hand against his elbow, where he’d suffered damage to a joint that had been hell in the healing process and sometimes still bothers him. “You’ve never seen me smoke, huh?”
"No, and it messes up the rotation,” Steve replies with a sigh. Eddie lets out a belly laugh at that before pressing his lips together firmly and sneaking a glance at the sleeping teens on the couch.
A muffled yell that sounds like Max asks, “What’s so funny?”
It makes them both burst into quiet laughter, and Eddie motions for him to follow him outside. This is all Eddie’s own place, having moved out of the trailer where his uncle still resides to a small apartment he can afford with his salary and dealing lightly on the side. It was nice and safe enough that Eddie took it after taking one step into the space. What had really sold him was the small balcony where he was now leading Steve, just behind a sliding glass door.
There really wasn’t much space, but it offered a decent view of Downtown Hawkins just a couple miles down—the neon lights of a couple businesses remaining on through the night. There’s a slight breeze out tonight, and it makes Steve, who is only wearing a short sleeve, shiver. Eddie takes to business immediately, pulling out a pre-roll from his inner jacket pocket before lighting it. He takes two long hits before tapping the joint on the edge of the balcony, the ash not quite making it over and laying partially on the railing.
Eddie takes another hit, and as he’s holding it, he asks Steve, “Want some?”
“I already said no inside,” Steve replies with a sigh. “Isn’t this peer pressure?”
“I told you I wasn’t the responsible party." Eddie blows the smoke out in Steve’s direction and laughs as he watches him fan it away. “You should lead the D.A.R.E. seminars.”
“Stop being a dick,” Steve tells him. “And fuck you. They implemented that a couple years too late for you and I.”
“Then stop making me feel like I’m trying to lure you into the dark side, you fucking square,” Eddie tells him as he takes another hit, joint half gone.
“Mm, good one,” Steve replies, rolling his eyes as he turns away from Eddie to look at the night sky.
“Why do you hang around all the time?” Eddie asks him, and Steve can feel that he’s slid closer just by the heat radiating off of him and hitting Steve’s exposed skin. “We’re not really friends,” Eddie paused briefly, humming lightly, like he was thinking of the word to describe what they are. “I’d like to be friends.”
Steve doesn’t reply immediately. He frowns down at the ground, suddenly upset. “I thought we were friends,” he replies defensively.
“I didn’t know if you considered us friends.” The words fly out of Eddie’s mouth, tumbling into each other.
“I hadn’t really thought about it until now, I guess,” Steve tells him, eyes still focused on the ground, pretending to find the toe of his right shoe fascinating.
Friends somehow feel too small.
————————————————————————-
“So what’s up with you and Robin?” Eddie asks out of the blue while they’re driving to the mall a town over for a gift for Robin.
“We’re friends,” Steve replies simply.
“Are you sure you’re friends with Robin?”
“Do you know something I don’t?” Steve takes his eyes off the road to look at Eddie with a raised brow.
“So you’re not dating Robin?” Eddie asks incredulously.
“She’s not interested,” Steve replies coolly.
“Like, she told you that? Or are you assuming? Because not interested…who wouldn’t be interested?” Eddie’s lips form into a very thin line once he realizes what he’s said.
Steve spares Eddie for now and smiles a little to himself as he turns up the radio and lets the music fill up the remaining few miles to the mall.
A while later, once they’re seated and sharing a pretzel with cheese, Steve tells Eddie, “You’re weirdly invested in my love life.”
“I wouldn’t call it weirdly invested,” Eddie says as his face morphs between embarrassed and lightly pissed off. Steve’s unsure who the latter is directed at.
“And yet I know nothing about yours,” Steve continues, as if Eddie had not said anything at all.
“The keyword would be nothing,” Eddie replies dejectedly.
"Hey, don’t be embarrassed.”
“I’m not fucking embarrassed,” Eddie shouts, the people a few tables down giving them judgmental looks.
“So you’re not embarrassed? Cool. So no girls ever?”
“Can we drop it?” Eddie sighs. “And, no.”
“No-,” Steve pauses, and Eddie looks at him curiously as he watches Steve scope out their surroundings. Steve leans in closer to the center of the table, with Eddie unconsciously following suit. He seems caught off guard when Steve finally asks, “No guys, either?”
Steve watches as Eddie’s mouth twists up to the left, his dimple on full display.
“And you wouldn’t care if—?” Eddie doesn’t finish the sentence, but Steve knows what he’s getting at.
“No,” Steve replies honestly.
“You’re full of surprises,” Eddie replies with a soft smile.
Steve feels himself smile back at Eddie, and it in turn makes Eddie’s soft smile transform into a blinding grin, his eyes sparkling. Steve feels it then—a small but meaningful tug just under his rib.
Oh.
And it should be scarier than this, he thinks. It should send him running in the other direction. But that’s never really been who Steve is. He doesn’t cower away from realization, even when it would be wise to do so.
“Oh,” he says, but this time aloud. And a muscle in Eddie’s face twitches, eyes no longer sparkling but calculating as they always have been, sweeping over and over across every expanse of detail on Steve’s face.
“Oh?” Eddie asks curiously.
“Yeah,” Steve replies. “Oh.”
“Any insight into what you’ve got cooking in there?” Eddie asks as he leans across the table to try and knock against Steve’s skull.
Steve dodges the move easily, trapping Eddie’s wrist in his hand. He lowers it back down to the table and watches as Eddie’s gaze lingers on their hands instead of him now.
“If I told you, I’d have to kill you,” Steve tells Eddie as he loosens the hold on Eddie’s wrist but doesn’t fully let go.
Steve doesn’t have the time to really give this situation any thought; he can’t find that he particularly wants to. He likes Eddie genuinely. He likes how Eddie can always make him laugh, even on Steve’s worst days. He likes spending time with him, even if it’s just shooting the shit and talking about nothing that actually matters.
It makes sense now that this longing feeling of getting near Eddie but feeling scared about it, too. Sitting here, Eddie sat across from him, Steve realized there was no other way this was going to go for him. There was never going to be anything except sitting across from Eddie and wanting to hold his hand so badly that it ached deep in his chest.
Steve is well aware that he’s stepping into dangerous territory by doing this here, right now. He can’t really help himself, though. Eddie’s fist has unfurled, his palm laying up where Steve still has it loosely pinned to the table. Eddie could choose to shake him off at any time, but he doesn't, so Steve fights through his own nerves.
“That serious?” Eddie’s voice is shaky when he finally speaks up.
Steve simply hums as he drags his hand down further on Eddie’s arm, their hands palm-to-palm now, Steve’s fingernails lightly scratching the thin skin of Eddie’s wrist as it journeys down.
Eddie looks almost skittish at this point, his eyes darting left and right. Less a show of fear that someone will see them and more like he’s hoping someone will so he can ask them, Are you fucking seeing this too?
Steve’s fingers skirt down to the center of Eddie’s palm, his nails raking down roughly on Eddie’s skin, and the effect works to make Eddie’s fingers curl in against his palm. Steve takes the opportunity to hook their fingers together in a ghost of a hand hold.
“My palm fucking burns, you dick.” There’s no heat behind Eddie's words as he stares down at their hands longingly. He huffs out a groan, like whatever he’s going to say annoys him to have to ask. “So, like, what are we playing at here?” He asks and gives their linked hands a tiny shake on the table.
“Playing?” Steve asks with a raised brow because, beyond everything else, he’s still kind of an asshole. “I’m not playing at anything.”
“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”
“It means I like spending time with you and getting to know you, and I’d like to keep doing that,” Steve replies with ease.
“So like a friend?” Eddie asks.
“No, not like a friend,” Steve sighs while rolling his eyes.
“Like a best friend?” Eddie squeaks.
“Do you like being obtuse on purpose? There’s plenty of evidence to suggest that you do.”
“Obtuse? You’re being vague as fuck,” Eddie says defensively.
“What is fucking vague about me asking you to date me?”
Eddie’s eyes widen before he loudly exclaims, “What the fuck?”
That gets every table at the food court to look over at them, and Steve’s hand quickly slips out of Eddie’s.
"Sorry, he doesn’t usually leave the house,” Steve tells their new audience before motioning to Eddie that they’re leaving.
Steve doesn’t have to look back to know Eddie is following, because he doesn’t get far before Eddie is crowding into his space, gluing himself to Steve’s right side, his hand wrapping around Steve’s forearm.
“Can you explain what the fuck that was back there?” He asks as he somehow moves in even closer.
“You being overdramatic at the mall food court?”
“Fuck off. You act like if I hadn’t pulled that shit, you wouldn’t have freaked the fuck out. Are you being serious with me right now?”
“Why would I be kidding?” Steve asks, nearly exasperated, as he tries to make it towards the exit of the mall.
His plans are immediately foiled as Eddie pulls him toward and then behind a door that Steve is almost positive is for staff only. Once in the room, he doesn’t have a second to survey it before Eddie is pressing him against the wall, his mouth covering his.
Steve makes a surprised noise against Eddie’s mouth, which only makes Eddie press him into the wall even harder, his teeth nipping at Steve’s bottom lip. Steve feels like he can’t breathe. He tears his face away from Eddie’s gasping for air as Eddie works a thigh between his own.
“I love the jump from disbelief to enthusiasm, but should we be doing this here?” Steve fights to survey the room as Eddie’s mouth has moved down his neck to his collarbone, where Eddie has moved the collar of his shirt down to suck a mark into the skin there.
He takes a deep breath, his hand moving to tangle in Eddie’s hair, holding him in place as he can feel teeth biting into his skin when Steve scratches his nail against Eddie’s scalp just so. He has to blink a few times before his eyes focus on the room, and it looks like they’re in some form of storage room.
“I've never experienced romance like getting defiled in a mall storage room,” Steve says breathlessly as he feels Eddie kiss his way back up to Steve’s mouth.
The next kiss Eddie gives him is much more tender and debilitatingly soft in its intention. He pulls away to look at Steve, a large grin on his face. “You haven’t even seen half of the definition of defiling,” Eddie tells him as his hands move from Steve’s waist down to his hips, giving them a rough squeeze.
“I didn’t realize what I was signing up for,” Steve replies as his fingers untangle themselves from Eddie’s hair, his hand coming to rest on the curve of Eddie’s jaw. His heart squeezes a bit as he watches Eddie lean into his hand. “As much as I’d like to continue this, I’d prefer it not be here.”
“You underestimate my self-control. I'm going to be crawling over the center console of your car if the sun hits you just right,” Eddie tells him, and it’s so earnest that Steve wants to kiss him again, so he does. He makes it deep and just shy of dirty, and he knows to stop when Eddie presses into him more insistently than before.
“I'm going to have to cuff you to keep your hands to yourself,” Steve tells him jokingly. And he flushes hot when Eddie replies that he has a pair he can borrow. “Jesus Christ.”
“My name is Eddie,” is what he gets in reply before Eddie slinks away from him to peek through the door as he cracks it open. “Great news, we will not be caught out if we leave right now.”
Steve takes a deep breath before shoving himself off the wall.
As they make their exit out of the mall, Steve and Eddie walk close together, hands brushing. When they exit into the parking lot, Steve hooks his pinky around Eddie's, and a small smile blooms on his face when Eddie gives it a squeeze.
"So, like boyfriends?” Eddie asks once they’ve settled into the car and he’s buckled himself in.
Steve eases himself out of the parking spot and gets them on the road before he answers.
“Boyfriends,” he says with a nod.