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Steve hates being sick.
He never feels more useless or pathetic than when he’s bundled up in his sweaty sheets, his nose red, his eyes scratchy and his hair limp and greasy.
Steve knows his worth isn’t entirely based on his looks, but when he feels and looks like shit, his mood definitely hits its lowest. It doesn’t help that when he’s sick, he feels even more lonely than usual.
No parents. No friends. No girlfriend.
Just him, his cold, and his self-pity.
And, to make matters worse, he’d had to call out of a shift at Family Video with Robin. It was one of his favourite shifts because it was just the two of them and, towards the end of it, Eddie would usually swing by and keep them company.
When they’d clock off, the three of them would then go out and get food, maybe crash at his house with a movie. It had become his favourite post-Vecna routine and he hated being the one to cancel. He’d told Robin she and Eddie could still go out, that they didn’t need to ruin their night just because of him, but Robin had insisted they could reschedule.
He hadn’t even felt up to arguing, just apologised for leaving her alone and crawled back into bed.
He’d expected to spend the whole day wallowing, drifting in and out of sleep and talking himself out of bed to go get something to eat and drink. What he doesn’t expect is to be dozing only to hear his name being called.
“Steve? Steeevie?”
Steve frowns and twists in bed to face his bedroom door.
“Are you asleep? I kind of hope you are sleeping, but also don’t want to make you freak out and try and hit me with a bat. I mean, I did kind of break in, but is it breaking in when you’ve told me I can come over any time?”
Before he can think to reply, his bedroom door is creaking open and Eddie sticks his head inside. When he alights on him, Eddie breaks out in a smile.
“Steve! You’re awake!”
“What the fuck are you doing here?” he croaks out.
Eddie grins and crosses the room to drop down at the foot of his bed. “Making sure you aren’t dead, obviously.”
Steve shoots him a flat look. “I’m not dead.”
He drops his head back on the pillow and closes his eyes, feeling even more exhausted just from that brief interaction.
“You sure?” Eddie asks, poking him in the thigh. “You don’t look your usual pretty self, sweetheart.”
Rather than reply verbally, Steve raises his arm and flips Eddie off. The metalhead chuckles.
“Bitchy, bitchy.” But he follows it by patting Steve’s leg gently. “Can I get you anything, Steve? Need more medicine or something?”
Steve lifts his head from the pillow. Eddie’s smile is soft and he looks serious and concerned. There is no pity in his expression, just… earnestness.
“Um,” Steve mumbles, thrown off guard. “Maybe some more water?”
Eddie’s smile spreads. He pats Steve’s leg again before standing up.
“Back in a minute, sweetheart. When did you last eat? Want me to do some toast?”
“Uh. It’s been a while.”
“I’ll bring some toast.”
“Yeah, um. Thanks.”
Eddie nods and walks out of the room, promising to be back soon. Steve can only stare after him. He rubs his face, pinches his arm, but apparently Eddie is not a fever dream. The metalhead has actually turned up at his house to check on him and… make him toast.
It’s really nice of him, and definitely not expected. Even Robin probably won’t show up for at least another day to make sure he hasn’t been taken out by a bad cold.
But that’s Eddie Munson, really.
Ever since the Upside Down, Steve has learned that Eddie is possibly the nicest guy in Hawkins. He’ll extend a hand to help anyone, even former-jock’s who’d helped make his life hell in High School.
In short, Steve really doesn’t deserve Eddie taking time out of his day to hang around his house and risk getting sick.
It’s why, when Eddie comes back with a plate of toast, a glass of water and an eager spring to his step, Steve sits up in bed, ready to tell him as much. However, as he takes the plate, he gets distracted and has to repress a laugh at the smiley face that Eddie has drawn in the jam.
“Dude,” Steve says. “Really?”
“Made you laugh though, right?”
Steve finally chuckles. It’s hell on his throat, but worth it for Eddie’s beaming grin.
“Yeah, it did. Thanks.”
“Sure thing, Stevie.”
Steve is still smiling as he picks up the toast. It’s nice. This is nice.
He can’t remember the last time he’s had someone at home when he’s had a cold. And even if his parents were around, he was still expected to fend for himself and make sure not to pass on his sickness to either of them.
He bites into the toast and it’s the perfect crispness with just the right amount of jam. He’s surprised Eddie got it so good on the first time. When Robin had made him some after they’d both gotten hungover together, he’d had to scrape the extra jam off and ask her when she’d learnt to burn toast. She’d thrown a crust at him and told him he had ‘overly dainty tastebuds’.
Clearly, Eddie just knew the proper way to make it.
“Thanks, man,” he says again. “It’s really great.”
Eddie shrugs, his hair falling a little in front of his face. “It’s just toast, Steve.”
And even though it is just toast and water, it means a lot.
And he shouldn’t be here offering it to you.
It sours some of Steve’s mood, and his next bite is more half-hearted.
“Steve?” Eddie asks, immediately frowning with concern. “You okay? You’re not going to toss are you?”
Steve shakes his head. “Nah, Eds. Just, you really shouldn’t be here, man. You’ll get sick.”
“Nah,” Eddie says dismissively. “If my body can fight off hell bat bites, it can fight off this.”
“But-”
“Hey, so when did you last have medicine?”
Instead of getting off the bed and walking around, he crawls over it, almost kicking him in the shin. Steve draws up his legs to save his extremities. Eddie drops to the other side and starts rummaging through the stuff on his bedside table and then in his drawer.
Eddie holds up a pack of condoms, giving an obscene eyebrow waggle that Steve rolls his eyes over. He does feel his cheeks heat, but blames it on the cold.
“God, dude. Stop going through my shit. The medicine’s in the bathroom.”
“Well, it’s no help to you there, Stevie.”
Before Steve can complain, the whirlwind that is Eddie Munson disappears from his room to go in search of the medicine. Steve sighs and goes back to eating his toast. He knows he should protest Eddie’s presence more, but he’s already feeling exhausted.
He finishes the last of the toast, shoves the plate further down the bed, has a drink of water and lays back down. His head has barely touched the pillow when Eddie reappears with a shake of the bottle.
Steve cracks open his eyes and holds out his palm for them. Eddie dutifully reads the label, his tongue sticking out in concentration. He then opens it and places two carefully in his open hand.
It’s really… fuck, it’s really sweet.
Steve feels a swell of emotion and blames it on the cold when his eyes prick. He rolls over so Eddie won’t see, using the excuse of grabbing the water and swallowing the tablets.
When he’s done and feels less like he’s going to fucking cry because Eddie is here and being so nice to him, he flops over on his back and looks at the metalhead. The second their gazes meet, Eddie smiles.
“Better, sweetheart?”
“Yeah,” Steve admits. He then grips the sheet with one hand, fiddling with it. “Thanks. Um. For coming over.”
“‘Course, Steve.”
He pulls at the fabric some more, his gaze dropping from Eddie.
“Yeah, so um, if you want to go, you can-”
“No can do, Steve-o.”
Steve’s gaze jerks up. “What? Why?”
Eddie’s grin spreads even wider and he drops down heavily on the bed, making Steve rock with the motion. The plate almost falls to the floor, but Eddie catches it in time.
“Eddie!”
“Sorry, sorry! Not going to get crumbs on your rich boy floor, promise.” He puts the plate down out of the way before managing to scoot closer on the bed. “Anyway. As I was saying, no can do about me leaving.”
“But-”
“Because, don’t you see, Steve? You!” He leans forward, pointing directly in Steve’s face. “Are sick. And therefore, you are stuck in this bed. You are my captive. And now I am free to torture you as much as I like and you can’t run away.”
Steve stares at the other boy, blinking rapidly and taking a long time for the gears to turn and for him to realise what Eddie is implying.
“Oh fuck,” Steve moans. “You’re going to talk about D&D to me, aren’t you?”
Eddie cackles. “Oh, no, Stevie, worse than that!” He leans in, eyes bright with laughter and happiness, cheeks flushed and smile stretching his face. “I have downstairs, ready to be brought up for you and read by yours truly, The Fellowship of the Ring!”
Steve’s eyes widen. “Oh fuck. That nerd book? With the elves and the dwarves and shit?”
“Yes!” Eddie declares, leaping off the bed and bouncing on the spot. He points at Steve again. “Prepare yourself, Sir Harrington, for an introduction to the wonders of The Lord of the Rings.”
“Fucking. God damn it, Eddie. I’m sick. Are you really going to-”
But he doesn’t finish as Eddie is already cackling and running down the stairs in order to get the book.
Steve groans loudly, hoping Eddie will hear before flopping onto his stomach, his face buried in the pillows. And yet, even as a part of him is so not looking forward to being forcibly dragged into that nerdy story the kids and Eddie love… the rest is still touched.
Because Eddie could do literally anything today, and instead, he’s come over here with his book and the plan to sit at Steve’s sickbed reading him some stupid story all while looking like it’s the best day of his life.
And despite it all, Steve finds himself smiling into the pillow. Because, how many friends would do that for him? Hell, his parents wouldn’t do that for him. But here was Eddie “The Freak” Munson making a really shitty, lonely day so much better.
It’s why, when Eddie thunders back up the stairs, brandishing his book and almost tripping as he makes his way back to the bed, Steve only puts up a token protest. He also shuffles to make a better space for Eddie when he decides to sit right beside him, back to the headboard as he flips the well-worn covers to the front page.
“If you get sick,” Steve says one more time, “you are not blaming me. This is all on you.”
“Shh, no interrupting story time, Stevie.”
“Asshole.”
In response, Eddie lightly hits him with the book, Steve huffs a laugh and Eddie giggles.
But, this time, when Eddie opens the book and settles in, Steve stays quiet and lets Eddie start his elf and dwarf story.
The book is… not his kind of thing.
Like, it’s not boring, but that’s mostly because of Eddie. He’s full of dramatic hand flailing and he does weird voices for the differing characters. Steve is often snickering more at Eddie then at the story.
Frankly, there’s a lot of words and he’d never voluntarily read it, but laying pressed up beside Eddie in his bed is… nice. Eddie is warm and firm, reminding him that he’s not alone.
He probably dozes off a few times, but Eddie doesn’t call him on it.
Whenever he blinks open his eyes, Eddie always seems to be right there. He smiles and gently asks what he last remembers, if he’s ready to start listening again, does he need more water or something else to eat. A couple of times, Steve even stirs to feel something in his hair, and, after the second time, he’s pretty sure it’s Eddie’s fingers.
When he closes his eyes but doesn’t quite drift off later in the day, his theory is only confirmed. Eddie’s fingers start brushing his hair from his face mid-sentence, only to slip gently into his unwashed, horrifically greasy hair.
Steve doesn’t get it.
At least, not at first.
Because, just, why would Eddie give up his whole day to read him a story?
Why would he help him out of bed so he could go to the bathroom, catching his arm when he had a head rush and making sure he stays standing? Why would he rush downstairs to cut him up some fruit and bring him a soda and more water?
Why would Eddie sit in his damn bed, touching his horrible hair, grinning at him and refusing to budge even with the threat of getting sick?
Why would anyone do that for someone, let alone for him?
But, it comes to him, probably in the stupidest damn way.
Eddie’s back to reading the book to him, and he reads a line, doing a squeaky voice for the character, and crinkling his nose while curling his fingers in some dramatic flair and it’s so fucking dorky that Steve laughs.
Eddie’s face immediately switches and he beams—no longer the character, but Eddie.
And he pokes him gently and says, “Don’t bust a gut now, sweetheart. It’s starting to get good.”
“Wait.” Steve gets out around a laugh. “So, I’m allowed to say the rest is crap?”
Eddie thumps him with the book. “No, you are not. I’m not giving up my whole day just to have this fine book insulted.”
“Hey man, I never told you to hang around. I’m the captive here.”
“And don’t you forget it. You’re stuck with me and Frodo until you’re back on your feet.”
He sticks out his tongue to follow it, but Steve’s too busy staring at Eddie. Because Eddie has just implied he’s staying, not just for the day, but multiple days. Even if he doesn’t stay the night he’ll come back.
And that makes absolutely no fucking sense why Eddie would do that—until… until it does, because when faced with something so incredibly unexpected, Steve can’t help but mentally ask the question: who would I do that for?
And the answer is pretty fucking simple: someone I love.
And he doesn’t mean Robin, or even Dustin.
Yeah, sure, he’d be there and he’d help them because he does love them like a brother and a sister, like family. But it’s not… not the same way Eddie is doing things for him. Eddie is treating him the way that Steve would have treated Nancy if he’d ever been in the position and allowed to do it.
Eddie is treating him the way a girlfriend who loved him would… or rather, like how a boyfriend who loved him would.
And Steve suddenly swallows around a lump that has nothing to do with his cold. He’s abruptly aware of all the places they’re touching, that Eddie is in his bed and literally handled his condoms only a few hours ago.
“Stevie?” Eddie asks, immediately concerned. “You feeling okay? You look a little off.”
He raises his hand, and Steve doesn’t have enough energy or speed to react before Eddie’s palm is on his forehead. It feels like too much all at once, but Eddie drops it after a few seconds.
“You don’t seem hot. Do you need more medicine? More water?”
“Um,” he croaks out. “Water?”
Eddie nods. “Okay.”
He gets out the bed and grabs Steve’s glass. He places the book on the mattress before he goes to get him more to drink, leaving Steve laying in his bed, trying to come to terms with what he’s just worked out about his friend.
Which, God, he’d really love Robin right about now. Someone he can talk this through with and figure out what the hell this means and what he thinks about and what he should do about it, because… because… he’s not gay, right?
He’s not into dudes, so he has to like, let Eddie down, doesn’t he?
He has to tell him that, no matter how nice this has been, Eddie should really go and find some other guy to read books to and stroke their hair and call them sweetheart and… fuck.
Steve shuts his eyes and digs the heels of his hands into them.
Because, he honestly feels like shit, but he’s almost been able to forget about it with Eddie beside him. He’s been able to laugh and have fun and enjoy the other boy’s warm body against his own.
And he’s also honest enough to admit that the idea of sending Eddie away and into the arms of some other guy had made his stomach drop with a mixture of apprehension and upset that probably says a few things about him that he’s not sure he’s completely ready for.
But he doesn’t exactly have time to process it, because the sound of Eddie coming back to the room makes him drop his hands hurriedly. Eddie walks in with another soft smile and passes over the water. Steve drinks half of it for lack of anything better to do.
Eddie resettles beside him, their bodies together with only the blanket to separate them. He grabs the book and flips to wherever they last were.
“Ready for more, Stevie?”
And with absolutely nothing else he can think of to do, Steve nods and does his best to relax into the mattress and the sound of Eddie’s voice.
It’s not as easy as last time, but somehow, he manages it.
And somehow, he also falls asleep, only just registering the feeling of fingers once again tracing his temple and playing with his hair.
When he next wakes up its late afternoon, and he’s feeling a little bit more energized, so he takes the chance to escape to the bathroom for a shower. It gives him some time alone to think about Eddie—and not in the way he’d normal think about someone in the shower, Jesus—but about what the hell this all means.
Having an emotional crisis while sick and with the guy who caused it in the next room is not ideal, but, Steve’s been handling worse shit in the last few years then just having a guy be into him.
…Maybe being into the guy back is more complicated.
But, unlike fucking demogorgons, it’s not about to kill him. Just change a few things. And, the last few times things about him have changed have only been for the better. Maybe this will be too?
It means that by the time he’s clean and showered, he stumbles back into his room a little more prepared. His hair is wet this time, and he’s in new pyjamas, he still must look like a fucking wreck, but just like before, Eddie meets his appearance with a smile.
“Better?”
Steve would have replied, but his gaze is quickly diverted to his bed.
“What the hell did you do?”
Well, it’s obvious what he’s done. He’s changed the bedding, and dumped all the other bedding in a literal ball beside the wall.
“Jeez. Where’s the gratitude? I did you a favour, sweetheart.”
And it actually is a really nice and unexpected gesture. Steve can’t even fight back his growing smile.
“God, you really like going through my cupboards, don’t you?”
“How else will I learn all your dirty secrets?” Eddie counters.
“Yeah, like the colour of the family linen.”
“Further proof that I, Eddie Munson, actually got to spend time in the King Steve’s bed.” His grin is wide and manic. “Oh, the people I could scandalise.” Steve’s breath hitches at the implication—but before he can even get a second to react, Eddie heaves a sigh. “Oh, but no one would believe it. Me getting an invite into the Harrington Manor? Impossible!”
“Dude,” Steve gets out, hoping he can blame the cold for how strangled he sounds. “I invite you here all the time.”
“Mm,” Eddie hums, and for a second, there’s something in his expression that’s a little dimmer. “Oh, I know, Stevie. But not up here.” He winks and it’s gone. “Got to sneak my way up when the King’s defences are down.”
And there’s a lot in there, a lot that he can read now that he understands what his friend feels—but Eddie makes a grand gesture with his hands toward the bed.
“Now, get in the bed, my King. I didn’t slave over a fitted sheet for it not to be used on you.”
Steve’s feeling more things than he can really pinpoint as he walks over and sits on the mattress, he climbs between the bedding and feels a fresh lump in his throat. He can’t remember the last time someone made his bed for him. He looks over at Eddie who’s already grabbed the book, and this time, he flops down dramatically on his back, at the foot of the bed.
And, maybe Steve’s reading into it, but Eddie choosing to sit away from him after implying something that could be seen as queer just feels a little too deliberate.
“You aren’t going to sit up here?” he asks, speaking before he can think better of it.
Eddie turns his head and smirks. “Missing my scintillating presence already?”
And, because Steve’s brain is stupid, he says, “You can’t play with my hair down there.”
Eddie goes very, very still, his eyes also widen the tiniest bit, and for the first time ever, Steve is pretty sure he’s just rendered Eddie speechless. But, after a long beat where nothing happens, Eddie gives a short little laugh. He sits up, flipping through the book.
“Not sure what you’re on about, Steve, but you must have just been having a nice dream. Bet one of your girls did that all the time. Bet they couldn’t resist that famed Harrington hair.” He clears his throat. “Speaking of famed hair, wait until you meet Galadriel, her hair is even more famous than yours and there’s this bit with Gimli-”
Leaning forward, Steve touches Eddie’s shoulder.
“Eds.”
Eddie shrugs him off, but he doesn’t otherwise move. His gaze is fixated on the page.
“And even if, by like, some weird turn of events I was actually touching your hair,” Eddie says, “it would totally be meaningless. Just a bad habit, needing to do things with my hands, you know?” He fiddles with the edge of the book, his voice getting quieter, “And it would never happen again. None of it would. Not like I’ll get King Steve falling asleep against me at any other time or anything.”
By the end, Eddie’s chewing on his bottom lip, his leg is jiggling up and down and he’s looking a second away from flying off the bed and maybe beginning to pace. Steve is far from stupid; he knows this is building towards something, the very thing he’s been thinking about since he worked it out.
Eddie’s not oblivious to it either.
“Hey, so, like, funny story,” Eddie says into the quiet, offering an awkward and too loud laugh. “When I was at Family Video today, that girl you’ve been eyeing came in. The blonde, right? And she was looking around and I’m pretty sure she was searching for you. So, maybe on your next shift you could-”
“Eddie,” Steve interjects, frowning. “Don’t do that, man.”
Eddie’s shoulders hunch and Steve’s pretty sure if he didn’t love that nerd book so much, he’d be ripping at the paper instead of just rubbing his thumb over the pages.
“What the hell do you want me to say, Steve?” Eddie says, sounding frustrated. “I read you a book. You fell asleep. You got this weird idea in your head, and I reminded you about that girl like a good friend and now you’re going to make it weird when it doesn’t have to be.”
“Dude,” Steve says, incredulous. “You’ve spent all fucking day with me while I’m sick and you’re telling me it doesn’t matter?”
“I’m just a good fucking friend, Steve.”
“Bullshit,” Steve snaps.
Eddie flinches, probably knowing the connotations that word has for him, probably realising if he’s saying it, he means it. Because he does. Steve isn’t about to buy the crap that Eddie is trying to sell.
As if realising that, Eddie slumps, his hands dangling between his legs, the book still clutched loosely in one of them.
“Jesus Christ, Steve,” Eddie whispers. “If I knew we’d be having this conversation today I probably wouldn’t have come over to see you.”
Steve frowns, and because he’s genuinely curious, he asks, “Really?”
Eddie is quiet, but after a moment, he turns the book, looking at the front cover.
“Nah,” he finally says. “Still would have shown up to look after your bitchy, sick self.” He smiles faintly and Steve can just see it through the curtain of his hair. “But I’ve always been a sucker for a pretty boy.”
Steve swallows as it’s laid out plainly between them, and he’s really not good at these kinds of conversations or confessions. It can probably excuse why the next words out of his mouth are: “I’m not pretty right now.”
Eddie snorts and finally looks at him, smiling warmly despite the subject matter.
“Sweetheart, you’re just as pretty now as you were biting into a bat.”
Steve is startled into a laugh. “Dude, you have really low bars for attractiveness. What the hell?”
Eddie laughs back, and some of the tension eases from his shoulders.
“Can’t help it. You were a fucking badass back then.” He swallows. “And right now, you’re just… Steve. All natural and, um,” he clears his throat and looks away, “cute, I guess.” He fiddles again with the book. “I liked looking after you. You always look after everyone else, and it was nice to, you know, read to you. Make you laugh.”
Like so much of today, Steve can’t remember the last time someone’s done that for him, or wanted to do that for him. He also can’t ignore the way his heart is racing; his stomach is fluttering and he just wants to pull Eddie close and press against him like he’s been doing all day.
He’s not used to feeling any of these kind of things for a guy, but…
“You know,” Steve begins, choosing his words carefully, “I’ve liked having you here.” He clears his throat. “And not just here, but here.” He presses his hand to the bed for emphasis. Eddie turns his head just a little, looking at the spot and him through the curtain of his hair. “You could come back up here. Read some more, do what you’ve been doing.” He hesitates, gives himself a few seconds to make sure before finally saying, “And when I’m better, you should take me out.”
Eddie lifts his head more, turning it so that there isn’t hair in the way as they lock gazes.
“Take you out?”
“Yeah.”
“Me?”
“Yeah.”
“A guy.”
Steve rolls his eyes, annoyed. “Yeah.”
Eddie shakes his head, looking nothing but disbelieving. “You don’t mean that.”
“Of course I fucking do.”
“But you’re not… you’re not queer, Steve.”
“Who the fuck says I’m not?” Steve snaps hotly. “That I can’t be for, I don’t know, the right guy, or whatever.” He gestures at Eddie. “Why can’t I be into you?” He crosses his arms. “If I say I want to date you, then I’m going to fucking date you.”
By the end, Eddie’s shocked and wary features have morphed, a shy little smile pulling at his lips. He doesn’t grab his hair and hide behind it, rather he grabs his book, covering his face until only his eyes are on display.
It’s… well, it’s fucking cute is what it is. There. He thought it, he believes it. Eddie Munson is cute.
“Okay, Stevie,” Eddie says.
He also hesitates before slowly shuffling up the bed. Steve’s heart speeds up, but he scoots over to make room. They end up how they’d been earlier in the day, pressed together, but this time, after a brief hesitation, Eddie slides his arm around Steve’s shoulders. Steve only takes a moment to wiggle even closer, his head on Eddie’s shoulder.
Steve can feel the way Eddie is barely containing his giddy excitement. He’s all but vibrating underneath him and when Steve glances up, Eddie looks even more ecstatic then when he’d first shown up, brimming with energy and ready to look after him and read The Lord of the Rings.
And curled up against Eddie, seeing how happy the other boy is, Steve isn’t sure why he’d ever thought his feelings for Eddie were confusing or complicated; because right now, it feels like the simplest thing in the world.