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Eddie's not expecting it, is the thing.
It feels like it comes out of nowhere. Which is probably the funniest thing about it. Because he'd thought he was good at noticing people like him, you have to be since no one is sharing that shit out loud, not in this town at least. In his defence, it happens on the tail end of the world not ending - if only maybe by the skin of its teeth. Eddie's wearing a tapestry of scars where sixty-five stitches used to be, he's missing half a tattoo and all of his left nipple, and the air still smells faintly like mould and forest fires. So he thinks just this once he could be forgiven for not being on the ball.
It takes him far too long to realise that the quiet 'can I?' and 'is this ok?' is something very different to the way Steve had fussed over him while they haunted the same house during the long, exhausting weeks while his body knitted itself back together again. A house which he'd very quickly learned had far too many stairs and long hallways for someone who'd nearly ended up a monster buffet.
Eddie hadn't been looking for it, for all that he'd definitely looked and appreciated and - fine, maybe pined a little - he honestly hadn't imagined it was anything other than a dream.
Why the hell would he?
But it's hard to argue with the tentative slide of fingers between his own while a movie plays in the background. Steve's hand is warm and the way his thumb nervously slip-slides back and forth over Eddie's knuckles sends his entire brain quiet. Not for long, never for long. But it's unexpected enough to briefly kill every thought he's ever had, even the panic.
His first coherent thought is - something too soft and warm to breathe through for a second - but he's been through too much not to temper hope with an immediate dash of cold water. So he cuts that thought off before it gets too big to hold, starts seeping out of the cracks in him, and hell there are more of them than there used to be, even though the stitches all held. The squeeze to his own hand is slow but determined, for all that Steve says nothing else, as if reaching out had been a climb that left him breathless. Any meaning in the gesture was left for Eddie to unpack, acknowledging in some way that he had more experience with this than Steve.
There's hope in that too and he stamps it down. He figures it's more likely that what Steve wants is something simple, something hot and easy that he just doesn't know how to ask for without being sweet about it.
Eddie already knows he'll say yes, of course he will, he's not sure he knows how to say no to Steve after everything they've been through. He would say through hell or high water but they already both dove into a lake that led to another dimension, and he's pretty sure Steve already carried him out of hell. Put like that it almost sounds romantic, even if that's a thought he'd only ever admit to someone who went through this shit with him.
Which means Eddie's all in, chips already shoved to the middle of the table before he knows exactly what he's holding. It's stupid, he knows it's stupid, he's never this reckless and he's half convinced he's going to hurt for it. It might even be worth it.
Only Steve doesn't ask for anything, he doesn't push, he doesn't make any protests about what he is or isn't. He just keeps slipping his hand into Eddie's, and one night in his new trailer when Wayne's working the night shift, the nervously asked 'can I?' and 'do you want to?' brings him all the way in, smoke caught between them, Steve's fingers curling in his shirt. The only thing Eddie's left saying is 'yeah, yes, please.'
Steve kisses him like he's been waiting for it, like he's been thinking about it, like it means something, and that makes it too easy to step right off the edge with him. Eddie catches his hand and pulls him into his bedroom and gives Steve everything he has.
Steve is a stubborn, protective, self-sacrificing menace who Eddie learned very quickly doesn't do anything halfway, once he's in he's in for good, and that terrifies him. Eddie's been doing this a while, he knows how to distract, how to deflect, how to keep himself safe. Stay seated, buckle up, keep your arms and legs in the ride at all times. Run if you have to, fight if your life depends on it. He's not sure Steve's ever run from trouble, if anything he'd spent the last four years learning how to brace for impact.
So, again, fucking terrifying.
But it turns out that Steve is smart enough to realise that quiet protects Eddie too, and he does that better than anyone, does that without ever having to be asked. He's smart, no matter what anyone says, he's so smart and he never gets enough credit for that. Eddie's going to try and make sure that's a thing he steps up to do when Steve needs it, and even when he doesn't. Maybe he should have known better, should have realised that they all know how to hide things, considering they'd been hiding the fact that there's an alternate dimension full of monsters for years. Eddie doesn't know how they stay sane about it some days and the fact that he can help Steve shoulder any of that for even a second still kind of bewilders him.
Eddie's had to worry about a lot of things over the years, but it turns out that Steve's been worrying on hard mode, stretching himself thin to try and keep everyone safe.
So Eddie worries about Steve, like it's the most important job he'd ever signed up for, and Steve looks at him like he doesn't quite know why, which feels like being sucker-punched every time, and that look stays until Eddie's kissed him a few times and said his name, said a whole bunch of names that only Eddie gets to call him, until he's quiet.
Steve still says 'can I?' and 'do you like this?' but he says it with a smile now.
And Eddie's all in.