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‟Huh,” Eddie says as they finally slow to a stop along the side of the road, Steve putting the car into park and turning off the ignition, no other sound but the low tick tick tick of the cooling engine. ‟Yeah, that’s not ominous at all.”
Steve glances over his shoulder at Eddie in the backseat and then leans over to look out the passenger side window, following Eddie’s gaze as he takes it in: the tall steel gate hanging crookedly on its post, vines creeping up the pickets; the overgrown, neglected yard beyond, with its unkept leaf-covered gravel path; and the sagging porch, which in turn is attached to the pièce de résistance that is the dilapidated three-story house towering over it all with its peeling paint, broken shutters, and cracked windows.
‟Uh, what were you expecting?” Steve asks and yeah, he might have a point.
‟Something less stereotypically haunted,” Eddie replies, not quite willing to admit it, and Dustin scoffs as he noisily starts to fold up the map they’ve been using to find this place.
‟It’s perfect,” he says, shoving the map into the glove box before turning his attention to digging through his backpack.
‟Can’t believe I agreed to this,” Eddie mutters as he watches Steve accept two flashlights from Dustin, one of which he passes on to Eddie. ‟Thanks. Now at least I’ll be able to see the face of the thing that kills me. If it has a face. Fuck, why are we doing this at night?”
‟It’s easier to break and enter at night,” Dustin cheerfully tells him before shoving the passenger door open and climbing outside.
Eddie sighs but follows, flicking his flashlight on as soon as he’s out of the car and letting the beam of light dance across the thick hedge of ivy that’s grown to completely cover the fence surrounding the property.
He can hear the trunk of the car slam closed behind him, and then Steve’s stepping forward carrying a baseball bat and the bolt cutters they bought earlier on their way here. He hands the bat and his flashlight to Dustin before turning his attention to the old straight link chain holding the gate closed, and it’s no match for the cutters; Eddie winces as the chain falls and the gate swings open, a scraping sound of metal on metal cutting through the night, loud enough to let everyone know they’re here.
Steve tugs open the zipper of Dustin’s backpack to stuff the bolt cutters inside before taking back his bat and flashlight, and Eddie aims the beam of his own light towards the house, tracing the outline of the decidedly crooked chimney and cutting across the sagging roof.
‟I revise my earlier statement,” he says as he follows Dustin and Steve into the yard. ‟We’re probably more likely to be killed by the house collapsing on our heads than anything else.”
Steve turns and shines his flashlight right in Dustin’s face. ‟Why did we have to bring him?” he asks, like Eddie’s not standing two feet away.
‟Backup,” Dustin says, squinting against the light. ‟Get it out of my face.”
Steve lowers the flashlight. ‟Backup,” he repeats, raising his eyebrows, and he sounds borderline incredulous.
‟I agree,” Eddie says. ‟I am not backup material.”
‟Sure you are,” Dustin assures him, like Eddie’s a toddler with self-esteem issues, and then he gives Steve a pointed look, as if he’s expecting him to help boost Eddie’s self-confidence.
‟Oh my god,” Steve mutters as he turns and heads towards the house, and the whole thing’s oddly reminiscent of the arguments Eddie’s mom and his Uncle Wayne used to have over Eddie’s short-lived stint in Little League before his mom finally had enough and split for Vegas.
Dustin throws Eddie a look. ‟You’ll be fine,” he says before hurrying after Steve, and Eddie sighs.
‟Still don’t get why we’re the ones doing this and not the government,” he says as he trails after them.
‟Because we can’t just call Owens for every haunted house in Indiana,” Dustin throws over his shoulder, and judging from the shadows that seem to dance behind the windows of the house as his flashlight sweeps over the facade, Eddie’s not sure that he agrees. ‟Also, it’s a waste of resources,” Dustin continues. ‟What if it’s just a bunch of raccoons chewing on some wires?”
Eddie frowns. ‟I thought you said people have been hearing strange noises.”
‟Yeah, like raccoons being electrocuted,” Dustin explains, and he sounds so sure of his reasoning that Eddie almost believes him.
‟It better be,” Steve says as he carefully steps onto the porch, wood creaking beneath his weight. ‟Okay, I think it’s good. C’mon.”
The front door isn’t barred or nailed shut, but Eddie thinks it might have been, once; there’s a pile of two-by-fours lying at the base of the steps leading up to the porch, discarded like someone’s tossed them there and not bothered to pick them back up – local law enforcement, maybe, coming to check on the strange noises Dustin claims the house is famous for.
Whatever the cause, the door opens easily when Steve reaches out to turn the handle, and a moment later they’re standing in a grand foyer with dark, empty doorways on either side of them and a grand staircase straight ahead, leading up to the gloom of the second floor. The air is stale and musty, and Eddie thinks he can smell mold; yet another thing to add to the list of ways he’s likely to die tonight.
‟So,” he says, letting the beam of his light sweep across the doorway to his right, illuminating the empty space beyond, ‟is this anything like Vecna’s old place?”
‟The Creel house had furniture,” Steve murmurs as he steps forward to peer beyond the doorframe to their left, and his voice echoes just a bit as the sound bounces off the bare walls and floors.
‟Shit,” Dustin says, and both Eddie and Steve turn toward him. ‟Look.”
He raises his flashlight towards a seemingly random spot on the ceiling, and Eddie tries to understand what he’s on about because sure, the paneling looks like it’s seen better days but there’s nothing particularly extraordinary about it, but then he sees it – the tiny motes of dust or ash or whatever you might call them slowly drifting past the light beam, and the hair at the back of his neck stands on end because it’s just like in the Upside Down.
‟Fuck,” Steve says, his light sweeping across the room until it lands on the staircase, and he follows the shape of it up until he’s illuminating part of the upper landing, a flash of peeling red wallpaper visible in the distance. ‟It’s coming from upstairs.”
‟Then that’s where we’re going,” Dustin tells them, and apparently Steve’s correct when he swears that Dustin’s suffering from some kind of Upside Down-related withdrawal.
Eddie can admit that the kid has been a bit antsy in the years since Owens and his army descended upon Hawkins and set up a permanent base in the old NHL building. Eddie had been forced to sign an NDA, same as everyone else, but while he’d been quite happy to leave it at that, Dustin’s always seemed a bit annoyed at having been put on an info diet once Owens took over.
Vecna might have been defeated but remnants of the Upside Down still pop up now and again in a fifty-mile radius of Hawkins – a small gate here, a fledgling infestation of vines there – and it seems to be why Dustin can’t quite let it go just yet – why they’re here, tonight, checking out a house that’s rumored to be haunted just in case it’s true, only not in the way the locals might think.
‟We should call Owens,” Eddie says, very much ready to get the hell out of Dodge.
Dustin however just shakes his head. ‟Not until we’re absolutely sure,” he says, and takes a step in the direction of the staircase before Steve throws an arm out across his chest.
‟You know the rules,” he reminds Dustin, raising the wicked-looking bat. ‟I go first.”
Dustin purses his lips but doesn’t protest, though he doesn’t look that happy as he watches Steve adjust his grip on the bat and slowly begin to ascend the stairs.
‟So,” Eddie whispers as they follow a few feet behind, ‟now that we’ve established that it’s probably not raccoons getting fried, what do you think? Demobats? The, uh, demodogs?”
‟Maybe,” Dustin murmurs, eyes fixed on Steve’s back.
‟Because if it is,” Eddie continues, ‟I really think we should call Owens.”
Above them, Steve’s finally reached the landing. Eddie can hear the rush of his own heartbeat in his ears as they all fall quiet and listen for any hint of something lying in wait for them in the gloom. A moment later, once nothing’s made itself known, Steve slowly lowers his bat and turns his flashlight back on, sweeping the beam of light over the area.
‟Looks clear,” he says after a tense beat, and Eddie sighs in relief as Steve signals for them to join him on the landing. ‟Y’know,” he tells Eddie, ‟for someone so, uh, you, I would have expected a little less trust in the government.”
‟Shows what you know,” Eddie says as he and Dustin finally step off the stairs and onto the second floor. ‟I have a healthy fear of authority, thank you very much. Besides, Owens specifically told us not to go off investigating things on our own.”
Dustin scoffs. ‟Do you know how many times we’ve saved the world without his help?” he declares as he steps around Steve and marches into the room directly to their right, and Steve immediately turns and follows him, like a guard dog on the heels of its charge.
‟I’m pretty sure I heard him say meddled rather than saved the world,” Eddie states as he trails after them, stepping across the threshold and immediately backtracking because the far side of the room is nothing but a massive wall of writhing vines, each stem thicker than Eddie’s forearm.
The vines undulate strangely in reaction to the beams of the flashlights, and there are what look like spore sacs too, large pouches that visibly palpitate as the vines seem to become aware of the intruders in their midst; Eddie’s just in time to witness Steve grab Dustin by the back of his jacket and yank him away from one of the sacs, but not before it contracts and then bursts open, spewing its contents straight into Dustin’s face.
Dustin yelps in surprise – either by the impromptu facial or by the force Steve’s using to get him out of there – and Eddie’s nearly bowled over as they both come stumbling backward out of the room, Dustin pawing at his face and making retching noises as he falls back into Steve and they both tumble onto the floor.
‟What the fuck!” Eddie yelps, frantically swinging his flashlight around the landing as he tries to check if there are more of the things hiding, but thankfully everything seems to be clear. ‟Did you see that? What the hell is that thing?!”
On the floor, Steve’s scrambled his way out from beneath Dustin and pulled him into his lap as he helps him wipe his face free of whatever the sac has doused him in.
‟It’s a— thing,” he tells Eddie. ‟I don’t know what it’s called, but something like it got Dustin in the tunnels, too. Did he tell you about the tunnels?”
‟Yeah,” Eddie says, vaguely recalling that part of the huge info dump that Dustin had forced him to sit through while he was in the hospital recovering. ‟But that one was harmless, right? So it’s not, like, poisonous?” He lowers his flashlight, feeling kind of silly now for being jumpy when all he has to do to avoid danger is literally not to go back into the room they just exited.
Dustin groans. ‟Ugh, it got into my mouth again!” he whines, grimacing as he turns his head to spit onto the floor.
‟Don’t swallow it!” Steve tells him, and he looks like he’s on the verge of wanting to pull Dustin’s tongue out and scrub that clean too.
‟Thanks, genius,” Dustin bites back as he tries to sit up, but it’s like he suddenly lacks the strength because he sways and collapses back against Steve’s chest again with a groan. ‟Whoa, head rush.”
‟Are you okay?” Steve asks, his frown deepening, and he feels along Dustin’s forehead and the side of his face, like he’s checking for a fever.
Dustin slowly blinks, like he has to think about it. ‟Yeah,” he eventually says, and then he adds, ‟actually, I feel great!”, drawing his R’s out like he’s Tony the Tiger.
Eddie lowers his flashlight. ‟Is he high?”
‟Okay, that’s it,” Steve says. ‟We’re leaving.”
‟No!” Dustin whines as he fumbles for Steve’s sweater. ‟We just got here!” He pauses, eyes widening like he just had an idea, and then he starts to wiggle his eyebrows at Steve. ‟I’ll make it up to you…” he says, voice laden with meaning, and Eddie laughs.
‟Oh, he’s stoned.”
Steve clears his throat. ‟Right,” he says, trying to climb back up on his feet, but it’s apparently easier said than done when Dustin’s clinging to him like a limpet. ‟Here, help me.”
Eddie sets his flashlight on the floor before bending down to grab Dustin under the armpits, and together they manage to hoist him up, and Dustin sways on his feet as he tries to catch his balance and fails.
‟Eddie!” he exclaims once they’re face to face, sounding delighted, like he’d forgotten all about inviting Eddie along. ‟You’re here!”
‟I am,” Eddie says. He grins as Steve yanks Dustin’s backpack open and stuffs Dustin’s flashlight inside, probably correct in thinking that Dustin won’t be in any shape to carry it. ‟And Steve’s here too!”
‟Steve,” Dustin breathes reverently. He twists around, trying to catch a glimpse of Steve’s face. ‟Steve? I love you! I love you so much. I’m gonna take you to Vermont to watch the leaves change!”
Eddie doesn’t bother to hide his ever-growing grin, and it earns him a glare from Steve over Dustin’s shoulder.
‟Kid worships at the altar of Steve Harrington, man,” Eddie drawls, delighted by this latest development. ‟When it’s out of his system, do you wanna tell him or can I? I really wanna be the one to tell him.”
Steve gently maneuvers Dustin’s arms through the straps of his backpack and pulls it off him, shouldering it himself instead. ‟When this is over,” he says, ‟I’m gonna lock him in his room so that he’ll never drag us anywhere like this ever again.”
‟Kinky,” Eddie says. ‟I think he might actually enjoy that.”
‟Oh god,” Steve mutters as he steps out from behind Dustin to help support some of his weight, only for Dustin to latch on to Steve with both hands the moment he spots him.
‟Steve! Steve, Eddie doesn’t know!” Then, in the loudest whisper Eddie’s ever heard, Dustin adds, ‟Do you think he heard what I said?”
‟I think everyone within fifty feet heard what you said,” Steve tells him as he hands Eddie the bat.
Dustin blinks. ‟Oh.” He turns towards Eddie. ‟Just so you know, my attentions are pure. My intentions. I would never do anything to—”
‟Down we go!” Steve interrupts, grabbing Dustin around the waist with one arm and using the other to steady himself on the banister as they start to descend the stairs.
‟He’s so strong, Eddie!” Dustin happily proclaims. ‟Look at how strong he is!”
‟Y’know,” Eddie tells Steve as he picks his flashlight back up and follows them down, helpfully adjusting the beam of it so that Steve knows where to place his feet, ‟I’m suddenly really glad I came with you guys today.”
‟Me too!” Dustin agrees. ‟I’m glad I came too! And Steve! I’m really glad Steve—”
‟Oh god,” Steve grunts as they finally make it to the ground floor, ‟will you please shut up?”
Dustin pouts but does as asked, looking dazed as he blinks into the light of Eddie’s flashlight, and Steve shrugs the backpack off and holds it out to Eddie.
‟Here,” he says, ‟can you take this out to the car? Hold on, I’ll give you the keys too.”
‟Sure thing,” Eddie says, taking the bag and swinging one of the straps over his shoulder, and waits for Steve to fish his keys out of his pocket before handing them to Eddie as well. ‟Back in a sec!”
He leaves his flashlight on the floor to give them some light and carefully makes his way down the steps of the porch, hearing the hinges of the door groan as it slowly swings partly closed behind him. It’s not quite as dark outside as it is in the house, the path through the yard illuminated by the flickering streetlight a few dozen feet away, and once at the car, he throws both the bat and Dustin’s bag into the trunk before unlocking the doors and slipping back through the gate, making his way to the house to help Steve carry Dustin out of there.
‟—my friend,” he can hear Dustin say once he gets within earshot, voices carrying easily through the night air, and it gives him a slight pause because the kid sounds almost dejected.
‟I know,” Steve says, nearly too softly for Eddie to hear, ‟but you wanted to wait to tell him, remember? You think you can still do that?”
Dustin makes a noise of agreement, and then he adds, ‟I love you.”
‟I love you too,” Steve replies, as easily as if he were telling someone the time. ‟Just focus on me, okay?”
‟Yeah,” Dustin murmurs.
Eddie blinks and then kicks at one of the porch steps as he starts to climb them, just to let Steve know he’s there, and when he pushes the door open they’re both where he left them, Dustin tucked up against Steve’s side.
‟All set,” he says and plucks the flashlight off the floor before throwing Dustin’s free arm over his shoulder, and together he and Steve easily manage to help Dustin out to the car, where they deposit him into the backseat – ignoring his grumblings about always riding shotgun.
‟Hey,” Steve says once he closes the door over Dustin’s protests, ‟don’t let me regret this, but you drive, okay?”
Eddie blinks in surprise. ‟Sure,” he says. ‟Yeah, I can do that,” and Steve follows him around to the driver’s side of the car before climbing into the backseat while Eddie gets in behind the wheel.
‟Steve!” Dustin exclaims, sounding delighted to realize that Steve’s joined him in the back, and Eddie tries not to be too obvious about it as he watches them in the rearview mirror – Steve taking a seat and reaching out, and Dustin pretty much just tipping over, his head coming to rest in Steve’s lap with a contented hum as he curls up on the seat, legs tucked up beneath him.
‟He good?” Eddie asks, and Steve sighs.
‟He’ll be fine,” he says, fingers carefully carding through Dustin’s hair like he either doesn’t realize that Eddie can see him do it, or he doesn’t care. ‟I’ll ask Owens to have his doctors take a look at him just to be safe, but I think he just needs to sleep it off.”
‟Cool,” Eddie says as he starts the car and sets about adjusting the seat and the angles of the mirrors. ‟So, uh, those things he said…”
He trails off, pulling away from the curb and watching in the rearview mirror as the light of the streetlight sweeps across Steve’s face, and Steve raises his chin, like he’s not about to take any kind of shit from Eddie right now.
‟Later,” he says before looking back down at Dustin, who’s started to snore softly into the fabric of Steve’s jeans.
‟Sure thing,” Eddie easily replies, because he considers himself an open-minded kind of dude, and whatever’s going on between the two of them sounds like it’s gonna be a real doozy of a secret reveal – like something worth waiting for.
Eddie’s definitely up for the challenge.