Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Eddie isn’t particularly enjoying his morning.

Not yet, anyway.

He grunts as Wayne loads another box into his arms, adjusting his footing under the weight of the produce, of apples and pears, oranges and grapefruit, of avocados and sweet potatoes and carrots and lettuces…

“Right, that’s the last of it,” Wayne announces, dusting his hands off and locking his pick-up behind him.

“Thank fuck,” Eddie grumbles. He makes his way towards their stall, cursing as he trips a little and loses an apple or two. There’s sweat dripping down his spine already, this summer proving to be particularly hot and humid even at eight fucking thirty a.m.

But Eddie had promised Wayne he’d help him out at the farmers’ market this weekend, since he had nothing better on, since his friends had actually gotten in to colleges and were busy getting ready to move away, since Eddie had been sort of…left behind, with nothing to do but trail after his uncle like a bad smell.

He does as he’s told. Sets the boxes down where Wayne points, helps him set the produce out, puts the little cardboard signs with the prices scribbled on them at the front of the table.

Once that’s finished, Eddie sinks into a plastic camp chair with a sigh, reaching for an apple and loudly crunching into it, ignoring the half-hearted glare Wayne shoots back at him.

There’s only a couple of people here this early – mostly other stall-holders setting up, the occasional dog-walker taking a non-committal glance at the wares, an old lady or two with purses clutched close to their middles.

It’s gonna be a boring morning.

Eddie chucks his headphones on, cranks the music as loud as he’ll get away with, and settles in for several hours of withering in the heat and making sure no one pockets an extra pear.

Eventually, his gaze wanders.

Wayne’s talking to a customer, something about the growing season for oranges or some shit, when Eddie claps eyes on the most beautiful boy he’s ever seen.

He sits up. Swallows, stares because he can’t help it.

There’s a literal god unfolding a table not far away, placing a thin yellow blanket on the top, smoothing it out just so. He’s about Eddie’s age, all olive skin dotted with moles and broad shoulders and golden hair that’s fallen effortlessly into place. Glasses frame his face, his perfect fucking face with those pink lips and square jaw, and even from here Eddie can see the look of concentration on the boy’s face, his brows slightly drawn together as he tucks the blanket in at the corners, as he readjusts several times to make sure it’s completely straight on the table.

A light smack to his knee jolts Eddie out of his daze, forces him to drag his gaze reluctantly back to Wayne. Wayne, who’s frowning at him, shaking his head.

“Turn your damn music down, Eds,” Wayne huffs, “need ya to dig me out some change.”

Eddie doesn’t argue. Lets Wayne believe he was distracted by his music, not by the boy several stalls over.

He rifles through their tin of change, picking out a few quarters, and then sneaks a look back again.

The boy’s bent over the table, light-wash jeans pulled tight across his ass, and Eddie’s pretty sure he’s openly gaping at the guy right now but he can’t fucking help it. It’s a baking stall, by the look of the cupcakes and cookies the boy’s currently placing out on the table, tongue poking ever so slightly out of his mouth as he works. The boy pauses for a moment in front of the table, as if assessing his wares for anything out of place.

“Eddie!” Wayne says again, exasperated. “You got that change, or what?”

Eddie snaps his mouth shut. Turns back to Wayne, hands him the change which his uncle takes with a shake of his head. Once the customer has left with a paper bag of carrots in hand, Eddie makes a decision.

“You want a cookie?” he asks Wayne.

“Huh?”

“A cookie,” Eddie repeats, slowly.

Wayne looks down at his watch. “It’s barely gone nine a.m.”

“So? I’m getting one. You want one, or not?”

After Wayne declines, Eddie heads off with a shrug, making straight for the tall boy still frowning down at his baking, thumb drawing anxious patterns on his index finger.

As he approaches, Eddie’s words die in his throat.

He’d planned on flirting. Was ready to try and charm the pants right off this boy, as quickly as he decently could.

But the closer he got, the more the butterflies began in his stomach.

Because somehow, he only got more attractive with every step Eddie took.

And yeah, he wasn’t usually one for ironed polos and blue jeans and bright white Nikes that looked meticulously clean, but Eddie’s cheeks are reddening and his heart's pounding when he reaches the stall.

The boy didn’t turn around at his approach.

Not until Eddie clears his throat a little awkwardly, hand brushing over the back of his neck. Sheepish. Shy. Two things he’s never been in his whole fucking life.

“Uh…hi,” Eddie starts.

The boy’s eyes widen behind his glasses. His hands grasp each other, almost frantically, and his gaze darts from Eddie, to the table, to somewhere off behind him. He opens his mouth briefly, but closes it again without speaking.

Huh, Eddie thinks.

Well, maybe the guy’s even shyer than he is right now.

Eddie tries again. “I saw you setting up, looks good. The…the baking, I mean, not…not you setting up. Well, that too, honestly, but I thought…” Eddie trails off, internally kicking himself.

You fucking idiot, Munson.

The boy blinks at him.

When he still doesn’t speak, Eddie shifts from foot to foot a little, then finally steps over to the table.

“Well, I’m just gonna have a look, if that’s ok?”

The boy nods. Quick, his head jerking a little, the movement stiff and awkward.

Eddie feels his eyes boring into his back as he scans the table. There’s cupcakes with piped-on frosting in several different patterns but all of them yellow, matching the boy’s soft polo that was clinging unfairly to his chest. There’s slices of brownies, cookies of varying flavours, apple pie and cinnamon donuts and red velvet cake and shortbread…

“Did you make all of these?” Eddie asks, a little in awe.

Polo-boy nods, not meeting Eddie’s eye. He’s wringing his hands, clenching his jaw, repeatedly glancing over Eddie’s shoulder as if he’s looking for someone.

“Shit, that’s…there’s so much different stuff here, how long did it take you?” And Eddie’s genuinely curious, he’s not just talking for the sake of it, for the purpose of squeezing at least a word or two out of this guy. Because everything on that table was meticulous – the cookies perfectly round, the pie sliced into completely even pieces, not even a stray dribble of batter or frosting on the cupcake liners (also yellow, Eddie noted) – there’s so much effort gone into this, and Eddie’s impressed.

The boy wants to speak, it looks like.

Eddie waits while he opens and closes his mouth a few times, flapping a hand in front of him.

“Hey Stevie, everything ok?”

A girl wanders over with several cake boxes in her arms, glancing between Stevie and Eddie. She’s got short hair, a dusting of freckles across her face, and a yellow top on to match the boy in front of Eddie, who relaxes a tiny bit as soon as he sees her.

He nods, but doesn’t stop clenching his hands together over his stomach.

The girl puts the boxes down, and steps over to the boy.

“Hey, it’s ok,” she murmurs softly, “we talked about this, remember? You’re fine, just…take a breath, ok?”

Eddie turns away from them. Senses this isn’t a conversation meant for him, and brings his attention back to the table, pretending he’s just…really interested in cupcakes all of a sudden. But he’s only a couple of feet away, and the girl doesn’t seem to care that he can overhear.

“Has he asked to buy something?”

“No.”

It’s the first time Eddie’s heard the boy speak. His voice is quiet, not much above a whisper, but Eddie wants to hear more of it.

“He wanted to know how long it took me,” the boy continues, “to make everything.”

“Ok…so did you answer?”

“No. Wanted to.”

“Your words get stuck?”

“Mmm hmm.”

“Well, that’s ok. Here, I’ll help you.”

“Robin -”

“You gotta try, Stevie. You can do it, come on.”

Eddie turns back to them as Robin tows the guy – Stevie? – over by his sleeve.

“Hi.” She grins at Eddie, and the boy stands slightly behind her, looking down at his feet. “This is Steve, I’m Robin. It’s our first time at a market and Steve’s kinda nervous. Can we help you with anything?”

Eddie’s eyes flick back to Steve, to his red cheeks and long eyelashes. His heart thuds in his chest.

He smiles at them. “I’m Eddie, my uncles got a stall just over there.” He jabs his thumb over his shoulder. “We sell fruit and shit. This is really your first day? Your set up is…really nice.”

“Thanks.” Robin beams even wider. “It was all Steve really, he did all the baking too, I’m just here to help out.”

Eddie nods slowly. Steve’s still avoiding his eye, no matter how much Eddie tries to catch it.

Swallowing his disappointment, he points to one of the chocolate chip cookies on the table.

“Can I get one of those, please?”

Robin nods briskly. “Steve, can you sort that?” She nudges him slightly in the side, and Steve springs into action, seemingly happy to give his hands something to do as he grabs a paper bag and looks around the table for something.

He freezes suddenly.

Robin’s back at his side immediately.

“Everything ok?” she asks quietly.

He shakes his head, flaps a hand at the table, face drawn tight in a frown.

“Where’s the…” he mumbles, trailing off.

“The what?” Robin prompts.

Steve bites his bottom lip, hands finding his thighs and tugging at his jeans, frustrated. Seemingly unable to find the word, he brings a hand up to chest height and makes a little snapping motion with his fingers.

“…tongs?” Robin guesses, and Steve nods briskly. “Maybe we left them in the car? I’ll go have a look.”

“It’s fine, you can just use your fingers,” Eddie offers, because he truly couldn’t care less.

Steve shakes his head vehemently, face tightening even further.

“Or…I could grab it?” Eddie tries, but Steve shakes his head again, looking so distressed that Eddie shuts up.

There’s a meow from somewhere behind the table.

A black and white cat emerges from under it, a red collar around its neck, and approaches Steve confidently, pressing up against his legs.

Steve ignores the cat, at first.

He’s digging a thumbnail into the meat of his palm, shuffling from foot to foot every so often, dragging a lip so hard between his teeth that Eddie’s worried he’s gonna make it bleed, and Eddie isn’t sure what to do. He wants to help, wants to somehow soothe the boy, but he isn’t sure how, thinks if he gets any closer to him he’ll only make things worse.

The cats meows again. Presses itself harder up against Steve, stretches up so its little front paws are against his thigh, kneading insistently, refusing to be ignored.

Steve sags a little. Reaches down with a trembling hand, strokes it across the cat’s head, and Eddie can hear the rumbling purr start up from the little creature. He watches as Steve loosens up, as his fingers unclench and his teeth release his lip and the frown fades slowly from his lovely face.

Robin returns, snapping the tongs triumphantly, and hands them to Steve.

He takes them happily and returns to his task, placing Eddie’s chosen cookie into the bag with more care than Eddie’s ever seen from someone serving him food before.

Eddie takes the offered bag, the divine scent wafting out and making his mouth water. Wayne was going to regret not asking for one, he knows.

Slowly, so as not to startle the boy, Eddie slides some cash across the table.

Steve looks up, catches his eye for the tiniest moment, then his gaze ducks away.

“Thanks, Steve,” Eddie says softly. “This smells great, seriously. And if you guys need anything,” he looks over to Robin to include her, too, “come see me at the fruit stall, I’m just over there.” He points in the direction of Wayne, who’s no doubt getting grumpier by the minute at Eddie’s absence.

Please come, Eddie begs silently, eyeing Steve one last time before he turns away.

“Three days,” Steve blurts out as Eddie starts to walk away.

Eddie pauses, turns back to him.

Steve’s eyes are fixed on his shoes again, and he rocks back and forth on his heels slightly. Robin glances between the two of them, then looks hopefully back at Steve.

Eddie frowns slightly, about to question him, when Steve speaks again.

“It took me three days. To bake everything. Wanted it all to be perfect.”

Eddie smiles, wide and warm.

“It is, Steve.”

Chapter Text

Eddie watches Steve as often as he can get away with that day.

The baking stall does well, a small crowd almost constantly around it as the day drags on, Eddie glancing over as Steve hands out slices of cake and cookies and pieces of pie, always using those tongs, always with his head ducked down low, avoiding eye contact. Robin smiles and chats with the customers, and more than once Eddie catches her rubbing slow circles over Steve’s back, leaning in close to murmur something into his ear.

Were they…together?

Eddie’s not sure, could almost swear the relationship between the two seemed more sibling-like than anything else, but perhaps that was wishful thinking on his part…

“Wish we were half as busy as them,” Wayne grunts, gesturing to the baking stall and standing with a grimace as his bad knee clicked. “Might as well start packin’ up, I suppose.”

“But it’s only two,” Eddie says quickly.

“And we’ve sold jack squat, I’m calling it a day. We’ll come back tomorrow, try again.”

Eddie fiddles with his rings for a moment, sneaking a look back over to Steve and Robin. “I might…hang round a bit longer.”

Wayne raises an eyebrow, giving Eddie a long look.

“What?” Eddie grumbles, fixing his gaze on the ground. “I like cake.”

Wayne glances between Eddie and the golden-haired boy squatting in front of the neighbouring stall, rifling through cake boxes as several customers queue beside him. “Riiiiight,” he drawls, “cake.”

Eddie glares, and Wayne chuckles as he sets to packing up their produce. Eddie scrambles to help, figuring the quicker they get tidied up the sooner he can head back over to see Steve again.

And Robin. Not just Steve.

There was something about the boy that intrigued Eddie. He was obviously very shy, or socially anxious, or just plain…awkward, but Eddie didn’t mind – he’d never been particularly attracted to anything normal in his life, after all. Steve was hot, he was interesting, and he clearly cared about his baking with a level of seriousness Eddie hadn’t seen often.

After spending a mere five minutes with Steve, Eddie wanted to know more.

Once the pick-up’s loaded up and Eddie’s waved goodbye to Wayne with an assurance he’d find his own way home, he drifts back over to Steve with as much nonchalance as he can manage.

He pretends he’s just wandering. Forces himself to pause long enough to admire a jewelry stand, briefly wonders if Steve likes any jewelry, pictures the boy’s busy hands playing with a bracelet, twisting one of those fidget rings on his fingers…

Eddie eyes the queue of people lined up to secure themselves a piece of Steve’s handiwork. He doesn’t blame them – the cookie he’d gotten earlier was the best he’d ever eaten. He wonders if he should stand and wait too, or if it’s acceptable for him to just walk on up behind the table and try to chat to Robin or Steve.

Robin spots him and waves him over, making the decision for him.

“Eddie!” she smiles, a little breathless, slapping some change into the outstretched hand of a girl already halfway through a cookie. “Taking a break?”

Eddie rubs the back of his neck. “Finished for the day, actually,” he chuckles, a little sheepish. “We didn’t sell much, so my uncle packed up, we’ll be back tomorrow.”

“Sorry to hear.”

“S’fine. You look like you’re doing well.”

Robin beams. “We’re almost sold out of everything, had to break into the reserves.” She nudges a cooler down by her feet, the little black and white cat sat proudly atop it. “Steve’ll be so happy, once everything calms down.”

Eddie looks to Steve. The boy seems…tense, shoulders drawn up, nodding sharply as a customer asked for something, making grabby hands at Robin for more paper bags which she quickly hands over.

Once Steve’s absorbed in his task again, Eddie turns back to Robin and quietly asks, “Is he alright?”

Robin’s smile falters a little. “He’s…ok. It’s hard for him, this sort of stuff, but he’s done well today. Better than I’d hoped, even.”

Eddie nods. He’s got questions, but can’t find a polite way to ask them.

Instead, he smiles softly down at the cat.

“Is he yours?”

Robin shakes her head. “No, he’s Steve’s. He’s a service cat.”

Oh.

“Oh, that’s…that’s cool,” Eddie says, a little lamely.

“His name’s Frodo.”

Eddie’s heart kicks up a notch. “Steve’s a Lord of the Rings fan?”

Robin snorts. “No. He didn’t choose the name.”

“Oh.” Eddie reaches a hand towards the cat, but Robin gently pushes it away.

“You can’t pat him while he’s working, sorry.”

“What, he’s working?” Eddie frowns. Frodo’s sitting casually on the cooler, tail flicking back and forth every so often, watching Steve and blinking softly. “…right now?”

“Uh huh.”

They’re interrupted by Steve striding over, the boy letting out a huff, fists clenched slightly at his sides.

“Hey, Steve.” Eddie offers him a warm smile, takes in the slightly rumpled appearance of him, his polo now a little crinkled, a layer of sweat sticking a few stray bangs to his forehead, his cheeks reddened by the sun. “Your cookie was fucking awesome, man. Best thing I’ve eaten in…well, forever.”

Steve blinks at him, then turns his attention back to Robin.

“Less talking,” he says stiffly, “too busy.”

“Gotcha, Stevie,” Robin replies, giving him a little salute. “Where do you want me?”

Steve flaps a hand towards the remaining people in the queue. “Can you…take orders,” he says, words short and clipped.

“Sure thing. The last of our stock’s out on the table, there’s no more. We’re almost sold out on the first day, how cool is that?”

Steve falters, cheeks flushing a little further and his lips twitching up in a small smile.

Eddie melts, his stomach doing some kind of somersault.

“It’s cool,” Steve agrees, then shakes himself lightly, back into business mode as he turns on his heel to return to his post by the table.

“Can I do anything to help?” Eddie blurts out. Because he’s got nothing going on, no one waiting for him at home except his uncle, nowhere for him to be.

Except for here, with this strange and beautiful boy and his best friend.

If they’ll have him.

Steve pauses, tilts his head slightly, intelligent eyes roving over Eddie. He opens his mouth to say something, but quickly closes it again, looking down at the ground.

Robin steps over to him. Eddie watches as Steve murmurs something to her, his cheeks now bright red, before he turns around and stalks back to dish out another order.

“He wants to know if you could gather up all the empty boxes and take them to the car,” Robin asks. “It’s the red beemer behind you.”

Eddie had spent ages this morning lugging boxes back and forth from Wayne’s truck to the stall, and then back again this afternoon. It was hot and getting hotter still, the day muggy and the air soupy and Eddie needed to change his t shirt hours ago...

But he’d lug boxes around all damn day if it was what Steve wanted, he thinks.

“Sure.”

As Eddie works, Frodo’s eyes follow him. The cat’s settled down into a loaf position on top of the cooler, white paws tucked up under himself, but he’s constantly on alert in that calm, feline way that cats have. He turns to look at Steve every so often, as if checking in on him, and Eddie supposes that’s exactly what he’s doing.

Once Eddie’s cleared away the boxes and stacked them up as neatly in the trunk as he can (because that car is clean, the stark opposite to Eddie’s ancient van with the beer cans strewn in the back and the thick smell of weed forever absorbed into the fraying upholstery) the crowd around the stall has dispersed.

There’s barely a crumb left on the table.

Robin’s slumped on the grass, leaning up against a table leg, and Steve’s perched in a plastic chair, idly flicking at some unseen imperfection on his jeans.

“Big day, huh?” Eddie comments, strolling over to them.

Robin huffs out a long breath, blowing her fringe from her face.

“I haven’t seen a stall this busy in…forever,” Eddie continues. “You’re baking some good shit, Steve.”

Steve gives him a half smile, shy and small.

Eddie loves it.

“When I’ve got the energy to stand up again, I guess we’ll head off,” Robin announces. “Thanks for helping, Eddie.”

Steve reaches down, tugs at Robin’s sleeve. It’s sharp, anxious almost, and she tips her head back to look up at him.

“Yeah, Stevie?”

He points towards a copse of trees beyond the market. Eddie likes it there – there’s a walking trail and a little park bench, and at the right time of day it’s quieter in there, the trees sheltering the path from the sounds of the city surrounding the park.

Robin smiles sadly. “I dunno if there’s squirrels here. We haven’t seen any all day -”

Steve’s face falls, and Eddie is not having that.

“I’ve seen a couple around here before. Steve’s right, that’s the best spot for them,” he says quickly.

Steve eyes Robin, flaps a hand at the trees again, more insistent now.

“Well, you can look if you want. Did you bring the nuts?” Robin asks.

Steve nods, jumping up and fishing through a bag next to the cooler, holding a bag of almonds up triumphantly. He waits in front of Robin, shifting from foot to foot a little when she doesn’t move.

“You going, then?” Robin comments eventually, still sprawled out on the ground.

Steve frowns. Looks from the trees to Robin. Frodo hops silently off the cooler and pads over to sit by his feet. Steve nudges Robin’s foot with his own.

“I’m tired, dingus,” Robin laments, “Frodo’ll go with you.”

Steve sniffs. He brings a hand up to adjust his glasses, clenching and unclenching a fist rhythmically.

“I’ll go,” Eddie utters.

Steve stills, his hands pausing, eyes catching Eddie’s before drifting away again.

“I know where the squirrels are. They, ah…they have a favourite tree in there. I can show you.” Eddie offers, tugging a section of hair across his face, waiting for Steve to reject his offer, to insist that Robin goes with him instead, because he’s not comfortable with Eddie, because they don’t really know each other yet…

Slowly, a smile spreads across Steve’s face, and he nods quietly. With that, he’s heading determinedly towards the trees with Frodo trotting along beside him, and Eddie scrambles to follow him.

“Hey,” Robin snaps quickly, getting Eddie’s attention before he’s too far away. “He safe with you, Eddie?”

She’s eyeing him a level of severity Eddie hadn’t imagined seeing from her.

“Yes,” he promises, knows it’s true.

She narrows her eyes for a moment, before relaxing again. “Good.”

Eddie resumes his quick pace after Steve who’s now far ahead of him in his haste to get to the squirrels. He can feel Robin’s eyes on his back still, thinks if he had any intention of causing any harm to Steve she might just kill him.

Not that he did.

Quite the opposite, in fact.

Steve was already by the bench seat when Eddie made his way into the trees. The boy was gazing up, shading his eyes against the sun with his hands, scanning the tree trunks and branches. Frodo was at his feet in a mirror image of his charge, perhaps more interested in the birds flitting through the branches than any potential squirrel sightings, but together they’re so damn cute.

Steve turns to Eddie as he approaches. Holds up his bag of almonds, shakes them a little, flaps his free hand at the trees.

He can talk, Eddie’s heard him.

But until Steve was comfortable freely using his voice with Eddie, the latter was content to learn this new language, the one Steve seemed well versed in and that Robin could read like a book.

“It’s that tree,” Eddie answers, pointing to a large, mature maple tree.

Eddie had spent many hours at this bench seat when he was younger, reading, hiding from the world while Wayne was running his stall nearby. He’d watched the squirrels running up and down that same maple with vague interest – nothing like the enthusiasm that Steve had right now.

Steve hurries over to it, looking up, eyes tracking the trunk and branches.

His shoulders slump a little when there’s no immediate sign of the little creatures.

“S’ok,” Eddie says, his heart dropping. “Maybe if we wait a little, one will turn up.”

Steve nods, fiddles with the top of his plastic bag of almonds.

“Wanna sit down?” Eddie queries, parking his ass on the worn bench.

Steve comes closer, gives the seat a suspicious look, then shakes his head.

“Dirty,” he whispers, soft enough that the word’s nearly carried away with the breeze.

Eddie’s tongue darts out over his bottom lip as he casts an eye over the bench. Sure, it’s old, the paint chipped away, a bird shit stain or two on the back of it, but by his standards it’s pretty clean…

But not by Steve’s standards.

Eddie thinks for a moment, before a lightbulb goes off in his head.

He leaps to his feet, Steve jumping a little with the sudden movement, and tugs the black bandanna from his back pocket. Steve watches closely as Eddie unfolds it, carefully placing it on the seat, then steps back with a flourish and a grin, dramatically sweeping his arms and giving a little bow.

“Ta da,” Eddie exclaims, “your throne.”

Steve swallows, pink tongue poking out between his lips briefly, and he gingerly traces two fingers over the bandana. Seemingly happy with the arrangement, he sits down cautiously, knees firmly together.

Frodo hops up on his lap.

Eddie returns to his half of the bench, watching Steve as he resumes his vigil for the squirrels.

And fuck, Eddie doesn’t want to feel like a creep here, but Steve’s so damn pretty.

He’s got eyes the colour of honey, and large hands that are currently stroking his cat, and soft-looking lips and hair that shouldn’t look this good after hours in the humid air but it did.

He’s watching the trees with such avid interest that Eddie has to shake himself a little, has to do something with his hands to stop himself just reaching for this guy.

“You like squirrels, huh?” he blurts out, just to say something.

Steve nods.

“You feed them a lot?”

He nods again.

“That’s cool. I used to give them fruit sometimes. When Wayne wasn’t looking.”

Steve hums softly, a tiny acknowledgement, but his eyes don’t leave the trees.

“One time I was sitting here with an ice cream, years ago, and one ran right up the bench behind me and shoved its face into it, I got such a fright I dropped it, damn thing got the whole lot.”

“Bad for them,” Steve says sharply, suddenly.

Eddie sits up further.

“They can’t eat ice cream. Fruit is good. They like berries, and apples, and melons.”

Eddie’s holding his breath, afraid to startle Steve back into silence again.

“Nuts are best. But not processed ones. And not really peanuts. Almonds are good.” Steve rattles his bag pointedly. “Your ice cream was an accident, but people feed them all kinds of things without thinking about it and it isn’t right, I always see it in the park by my house. If someone doesn’t know they can just…look it up. It’s easy, only takes a second. People think they’re helping them when really they’re hurting them.”

Eddie lets out the breath he’s holding when Steve finishes. The boy still isn’t looking at him, still scanning the trees even while he spoke.

There’s a rustle in the dry leaves by the path. Frodo sits up, lets out a little chitter, and Steve freezes for a moment in anticipation.

A squirrel darts out, scrambles a few feet up the trunk of the maple.

Eddie feels Steve’s hand on the side of his thigh, the boy slapping at him lightly in excitement, seemingly unaware he’s even doing it.

Eddie smiles – he can’t help it; Steve’s enthusiasm is infectious.

Slowly, carefully so as not to startle the little animal, Steve reaches into the bag and tosses an almond to land at the base of the trunk. After a moment, the squirrel shoots down and grabs it, picking it up with two tiny paws and chewing quickly. Steve grins wide and throws another, then another, then seals the bag again.

“You don’t want to give him some more?” Eddie questions, as the squirrel noses hopefully in the grass.

Steve shakes his head.

“Don’t wanna overfeed the little guy?” Eddie guesses, and Steve nods.

Eventually, the squirrel leaves, and Steve stands up. He carefully folds Eddie’s bandanna, brushes away any dirt, and holds it out to Eddie, face warm and expression so fucking soft that Eddie’s hand nearly shakes when he takes it.

Wordlessly, they start to head back towards the now closing-up market. Eddie trails after Steve, knows he should probably start coming up with how to get a ride home but not wanting to part from his new…friend? Could he call Steve that, yet?

Eddie follows Steve back to the baking stall. Robin’s still lying on the grass, eyes closed and mouth slightly open as she dozes in the sun.

Steve strides over to the cooler, lifts the lid, pulls out a paper bag. He’s shy again now – movements jittery and an aborted sound escaping him as he presses the bag firmly into Eddie’s hand.

Finally, he manages to speak again.

“The last cookie,” he says, “was saving it. Want you to have it.”

He’s all pink cheeks and long eyelashes and bashful smiles, and Eddie is fucked.

Chapter Text

Eddie’s fucking excited to return to the park the next day.

Wayne asks what’s gotten into him, shakes his head as Eddie runs ahead of him, as he sets the stall up faster than ever before.

Steve and Robin are already there, no doubt wanting to get everything set up for another successful day. There’s even a few people hovering by their stall and waiting for them to start selling, news having already spread since yesterday about Steve’s baking.

There’s no one waiting to buy Wayne’s produce.

Eddie’s uncle sighs, takes out a dog-eared book and settles back into his camp chair.

“You know, if there’s somethin’ else you’d rather be doing with yer weekend, you might as well do it,” Wayne tells him wearily. “We ain’t gonna be nearly as busy as I’d hoped.”

“Maybe today’ll be better,” Eddie says hopefully.

He knows it isn’t true – they hadn’t made good money here in a long time. Once upon a time they drew a crowd – when Eddie was little, when his mom would sell flowers at Wayne’s produce stall, when they made enough money that it was actually worth all this effort every weekend.

But his mom had been the salesperson, not his uncle.

She’d paint colourful signs, she’d put leaflets in mailboxes, she’d come up with little promotions, she was friendly and engaging and people were drawn to her in a way they’d never been to Eddie and Wayne. Wayne was kind enough, but he was a man of few words, and couldn’t upsell anything to save his life.

And Eddie, well…he thinks there’s always been something off-putting about himself, something that made people shy away from him, like he was some kind of gremlin tucked away in the corner of Wayne’s tent.

Eddie’s mom had died years ago, and the flowers along with her. While Wayne could grow any fruit or vegetable under the sun, he didn’t have the same ability with flowers, not by a long shot. He’d taken Eddie on when his father drifted away for longer and longer stints of time, dabbling with drugs and petty crimes and running with the worst kind of crowds until he’d wound up in prison.

Eddie always thought his mom had married the wrong Munson, always wished Wayne was his father on paper, not just by some unspoken agreement.

His attention quickly drifts to Steve and Robin.

Robin’s smiling at the customers, cracking some joke that the buyer laughs at, pointing at a ‘two for the price of one’ sign with a cookie drawn on it so neatly it had to have been done by Steve, he thinks. She’s good at this, she’s charmed those buyers, and Eddie knows there’ll be a larger crowd waiting for them next weekend.

Steve is…keeping his head above water, it seems like. He looks the slightest bit more relaxed than he did yesterday, nodding as Robin calls out orders to him, working away with his tongs and his paper bags while Frodo looks calmly on from his perched spot on the cooler.

And if Eddie catches him shooting a shy glance or two in his direction, well…that’s neither here nor there.

“You get talkin’ to them yesterday?” Wayne asks, shaking Eddie out of his silence, looking up from his book to follow the subject of Eddie’s attention.

“Yeah. They’re nice, it’s their first time doing this.”

Wayne grunts in acknowledgement.

“Steve does all the baking. That’s him, in the yellow. And Robin’s his friend, she helps out. And the cat, that’s Frodo, he’s Steve’s service cat.” Eddie can’t keep the enthusiasm from his voice as he talks about them.

Wayne notices, arching an eyebrow. “A service cat?” he mutters.

“Yeah. Like, you know how some people have service dogs? Like…guide dogs, and shit. Steve has a cat.”

“What for?”

“Well I don’t know, exactly. He’s a bit…different.” Eddie trails off, not sure exactly how to finish his sentence.

Clearly bored with his book, Wayne folds his page over and rests it on his knee, watching Steve and Robin work with interest. “Different how?”

Eddie huffs, waves a hand in frustration. “I dunno, he just is. He’s…awkward. He doesn’t like to talk much. But it’s fine, he’s…he’s interesting. I like him. Them, I like both of them.”

“Well, I guess it’s good for you to make some new friends. If they’re gonna be stickin’ around here, that is.”

Way to point out how lonely I am, old man.

Eddie doesn’t answer, just twists the rings on his fingers, thinks about Gareth heading off to college next week, following in the wake of Jeff and the rest of his small group of friends, leaving Eddie behind.

“Go see them, if you like,” Wayne says eventually, waving Eddie off.

Eddie jumps to his feet but then pauses, feels a little bad because even though they’re not exactly rushed off their feet he had promised to help Wayne. “You sure?”

“Yep, think I got it covered. If you see me suddenly surrounded by a crowd, well…ya better come running,” Wayne mutters dryly.

Eddie all but scampers over to the baking stall, heart beating faster when Steve looks up to give him a tiny smile, a little waggle of his fingers before he’s back to work again.

Robin smiles at him quickly, then focuses back on her customer.

“You want the whole carrot cake?” she confirms, and the lady nods. “Steeeeve!” Robin calls, “can we sell a whole cake? Or is it only by the slice?”

Steve frowns and points at the sign on the table advertising cake by the slice.

“I know the sign says that, but this lady wants the whole thing. You ok with that?”

Steve drops the paper bag he’s holding, frowning as the cookie inside it breaks, and jabs a finger at the sign again, frustrated.

Eddie reaches for the bag to pick it up, wants to help, but Steve snatches it and thrusts it out to the waiting customer.

“Well I don’t want a broken one,” the guy complains, peering into the bag like the cookie’s personally offended him. He’s about their age, prominent freckles all over his face, and there’s a girl at his hip chewing gum and looking Steve up and down with a small smirk on her face.

“It all tastes the same,” Eddie says loudly, rolling his eyes.

“Can I have the whole cake, or not?” The lady in front of Robin is asking again, a little impatiently now.

“Get me a new one,” freckle-guy demands, tossing the bag roughly back at Steve.

Steve’s eyes are fixed on the ground. He’s trembling lightly, clutching his tongs in a death-grip, his gaze almost…glazed over, like he’s gone somewhere else, somewhere far away.

“Are you deaf or just stupid?” the girl with freckle-guy asks, an ugly grin on her face when Steve flinches at the words.

Eddie’s had enough.

He grabs two dollars from the container of change and flicks it at the guy with his thumb, taking the broken cookie back. “Take your money and go, dude.”

“I didn’t want my money back, I wanted a new -”

Eddie leans across the table, letting his hands fall with a heavy thunk, drumming ringed fingers on the surface. And he’s good at this, good at making people uncomfortable, at making them want to leave. “Are you deaf? I told you to go.”

The line jostles behind him, impatient, and the guy grumbles something, taking his girlfriend by the wrist and tugging her away.

Meanwhile, Robin’s placated the lady with the promise she’ll put the cake aside and talk to Steve shortly, and had managed to start moving the rest of the line through.

“Steve, you ok?” Eddie murmurs to him. “Ignore that guy, he’s an asshole.”

Steve’s hovering behind the table, head down, still holding the tongs but not doing anything to help serve orders up. He nods sharply but he’s pale and shaky and Frodo’s meowing down by his feet.

Eddie reaches for him gently, places a hand carefully on Steve’s shoulder, but the boy yanks away from him violently, a small whine escaping his lips.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” Eddie says, stepping back to give the boy some space despite everything in him wanting to hold, to comfort. “Do you want to go take a breather by your car? I can help Robin. Or…or we could go and look at the squirrels?”

But Steve doesn’t acknowledge his suggestion, instead wrapping his arms across his middle and squeezing. Frodo’s stretching up now, batting his paw at Steve’s thigh, but he’s being ignored too.

Just as Eddie’s at a loss for what to do, Robin’s there.

She presses a piece of paper into Eddie’s hand – hastily scribbled orders – and then she’s standing next to Steve but not touching him.

“Stevie, you’re ok,” she says softly. “There’s a lot of people around and a lot going on, I know, but it’s ok. Me and Eddie are here, and Frodo too. I’m gonna get your headphones, and you can go sit in the car for a little bit, ok? You can come out when you’re ready.”

Steve sucks in air, breathing heavily, but he nods, arms still clutching himself firmly as he makes his way to the car without looking at Eddie.

Robin follows him, turning pleading eyes on Eddie. “Can you -”

“I’ve got it,” Eddie assures her, rushing back to the table and quickly churning through order after order. A slice of red velvet cake, two brownies, one salted caramel cookie, three pieces of shortbread…he sneaks a look back at the beemer when he can, sees the outline of Steve’s head through the window, headphones settled over his ears. And Eddie wants to go to him, wants to make sure he’s ok, but right now this is how he can help.

Robin returns after a short while, her expression tight.

“Thanks,” she tells him when there’s a small break in the crowd.

“Will he be alright?” Eddie asks, craning his neck to look back towards Steve again.

“I think so. He just…he gets overwhelmed easily, I guess you’ve noticed.”

“…yeah. That guy was a dick anyway, I’ve seen him around here before, he’s a prick to everyone, not just Steve.”

Robin gives him a sad look. “Maybe, but other people can deal with it better than Steve can. He’s autistic, if you hadn’t worked that out yet.”

Oh.

And that…made a lot of sense, actually – Eddie hadn’t had a lot of experience with autistic people, but he’d read about it before.

“He’s not usually this…erratic,” Robin continues, using the brief reprieve from the customers to wipe down the table. “But then he’s never done something like this before. Baking’s always been something he loved and he’s made plenty of stuff for friends before but this is the first time he’s ever sold it and had to interact with actual customers. It’s…a lot, and he gets upset easily when his routine changes. He’ll get better at it though, he just needs to settle in. Might take him a few weekends.”

Eddie nods slowly, thinking Robin’s words over. “Is there anything that helps him?”

“Frodo’s a big help. And he needs to take breaks, go and be somewhere quiet for a while, but it’s been so busy that we’ve been struggling with that a bit, and Steve’ll just work and work if you let him.”

“What if I…helped out when Steve needs a break?” Eddie suggests.

Robin pauses, looks at him with curiosity. “You’d do that?”

He shrugs. “Sure. Me ‘n my uncle, we’re not exactly busy over there.”

“Well, if you really want to…we’d pay you, of course, I’d have to work something out but -”

Eddie waves a hand at her. “No need. Or just…pay me in cookies?”

“Cookies?”

“Shit yeah.” Eddie reaches for the broken one that had been rejected by the customer, munching it loudly. “They’re fucking amazing.”

After another rush of customers, Steve emerges from the car with Frodo trotting along behind him, headphones around his neck now.

“Hey man, you feeling better?” Eddie asks him. “Sorry again about those people, they were just -”

“Assholes,” Steve finishes, grumbling the word.

Eddie bites back a laugh, nods in agreement. “Yeah, yeah they were.”

“I’m not deaf,” Steve assures him seriously, like Eddie needs to hear it. “And not stupid. Just sometimes I get…stuck, and I can’t…” Steve flaps his hands, voice falling silent.

“I hear ya,” Eddie tells him gently. “They help? The headphones?”

Steve nods. “Make everything…quiet. Can breathe again.” He turns to Robin next. “Can sell the whole cake. Twenty five dollars. Hadn’t planned for anyone wanting to buy the whole thing. Sorry.”

Eddie spends as much time as he can get away with at the baking stall, drifting back over to Wayne every now and then to make sure his uncle doesn’t need his help. He’s waved away every time, Wayne telling him to stay with his friends, reassuring him that he’s fine. Eddie’s heart sinks a little at the amount of produce still sitting on the table halfway through the day – yet again, they’d hardly sold anything.

The baking stall, on the other hand, did another roaring trade that day, and they were forced to close early when they’d sold out of everything just after lunchtime.

Eddie’s helping to break down the empty boxes when Steve approaches him, quiet as a mouse, and Eddie jumps when he turns around to see the boy suddenly there, rocking slightly back and forth on his heels.

Steve ducks his head and smiles sheepishly.

“Fuck, sorry, you gave me a fright,” Eddie laughs, stretching upright and wincing as his spine clicked.

Steve holds something out to him – a piece of paper, neatly folded up.

Eddie takes it, carefully opens it up and scans the page.

8 lemons

10 oranges

12 apples

6 limes

2 cartons raspberries

2 cartons strawberries

1 carton blueberries

8 carrots

4 zucchinis

He looks back to Steve, the boy seemingly finding his shoes ­very interesting as he gazes down at them, until he finally sneaks a quick glance back at Eddie.

“You…want me to get you this stuff? From Wayne’s stall?” Eddie queries.

Steve smiles, nods happily, and then hands over a wad of cash. It’s too much, Eddie can tell straight away, but Steve snatches his hand back and shakes his head when he tries to give several bills back to him.

“For your work,” Steve insists.

“About that…” Eddie sidles a little closer, going warm all over when Steve doesn’t shy away from him. “You got any cookies left?”

Steve grins, and then he’s darting to the cooler and handing a paper bag over to Eddie. It’s full, at least five cookies in there, and hell Eddie had been hoping for just one…

“To last. Till weekend.” Steve says.

Eddie smiles at him, so damn weak for this boy.

Between Eddie and Wayne, those cookies won’t last the rest of the day let alone till next weekend, but that’s ok.

Still, heading back to Wayne to fulfill Steve’s order, he swallows back a pang of disappointment – he’s got five lonely days ahead of him until the following weekend, until another market, until he gets to see Steve again.

But for now, he pushes the thought aside, and sets to picking out the ripest and most blemish-free fruit and veges he can find, ignoring the amused look Wayne’s throwing him – only the best for Steve.

Chapter Text

The week crawls by painfully slowly for Eddie.

He wishes he’d asked for Steve’s number, or asked if he had Instagram, anything so that they could’ve kept in touch until the weekend…but would that have been too forward of him? Did Steve even have social media?

Eddie had no idea.

But each time he walks past the 7/11 on the corner, smells the cookies that have been sitting there for far too long, he thinks of Steve.

Walking to work one night to the shitty bar owned by his shitty boss on the shittiest street in the neighbourhood, Eddie sees a squirrel dart across the footpath, and he thinks of Steve.

He sees almonds in the grocery store and he thinks of Steve.

The five days pass and all he can do is drag himself through them and think of that boy.

Until finally it’s Saturday again.

Wayne’s only briefly confused by Eddie’s enthusiastic offer to help again – he gives a knowing shake of his head when Eddie’s bounding off as soon they’re set up, heading for Steve and Robin where they’re unfolding their table a short distance away.

He’d hoped they’d set up right next to Wayne’s stall this time, but Mrs Driscoll had gotten there first again, setting out her knitting and crocheted items and batting grey eyelashes at Wayne. (Eddie had thrown his head back and laughed as his uncle turned pointedly away from her after managing a reluctant wave, hunching his shoulders and giving Eddie a death glare.)

“Hi,” Eddie exclaims as he reaches Steve and Robin, slightly flushed from the morning heat.

(Not from the sight of Steve smiling at him, or from the soft pastel-green polo hugging his frame, or from the way he runs a large hand through slightly-mussed hair.)

Steve doesn’t say anything, but reaches automatically into the cooler and hands a paper bag-clad cookie to Eddie.

“Wow, already?” Eddie laughs, peeling the bag back to take a bite. He forces back a moan at the taste – the cookie’s all crunchy on the outside and gooey chocolate in the middle, and it’s still warm, and fuck he’s missed these since he and Wayne wolfed them all down on Sunday night.

Steve smiles wider, gives a little shrug.

“Hey Eddie,” Robin greets him, setting several boxes down on the table with a light thud. “You wanna help with these boxes?”

Eddie helps them unload, then takes the initiative of opening up some of the boxes to start setting up the table. There’s a lot of the same items as last time, along with a few new things – strawberry tarts, blueberry muffins, some sort of citrus cake with candied orange slices on the top, and a rich brown loaf of something Robin tells him is zucchini bread…

Eddie notices the theme. While there’s still plenty of chocolate and caramel flavoured treats, there’s also a lot of fruit and vegetable-based items here. Wayne’s fruit and vegetables, to be precise, and it made Eddie feel a little giddy. He’d suspected Steve was going to use the produce for this after buying a bunch of it last weekend, but to see it here in front of him, shaped by Steve’s clever hands into pies and tarts and loaves and cakes…

Suddenly, Steve’s beside him, so close he’s nearly pressed up against him but not quite and Eddie curses the small distance between them. Eddie turns to him, but the boy’s frowning a little, studying the way Eddie’s placed the brownies out on the plate with the cookies behind them and bordered by the tarts…

Wordlessly, Steve reaches past him and rearranges the display a bit, stepping back to assess it then nodding to himself.

Eddie huffs out a small laugh. “Sorry, I didn’t do it right?”

Steve shakes his head.

From someone else, it might’ve made Eddie feel awkward, like he was being judged and found lacking.

But Steve gives him a soft smile after a moment, and then speaks quietly.

“People can see everything better like this.”

“Gotcha,” Eddie says.

Pretty quickly, a line forms in front of the table, and they’re too busy to do anything other than try and keep up with the orders. Eddie goes from offering to help out when Steve needs a break to spending his whole damn morning there – but his frequent glances back over to the produce stall assure him that Wayne’s not in any need of any help.

Robin insists on a break for lunch, placing a little sign at the front of the table that says “Back soon!” and they spread out on the grass to take a breather.

Steve’s got a lunchbox with him.

It’s yellow, with more compartments in it than Eddie thought was really possible – he’s got little cut up sandwiches minus the crusts, a pottle of plain yoghurt with a spoon, some mixed nuts, a muesli bar, and an apple. He takes everything out one by one and sets it out in their individual containers on the picnic blanket in front of it.

Robin’s halfway through her own hastily-packed sandwich before Steve’s even got all of his lunch set up.

And Eddie, well…he hadn’t even brought lunch.

Truth be told, he often skipped it. Either he couldn’t be bothered, or there wasn’t anything in the pantry that would really work for lunch – he has a few dollars in his pocket in case he wants to buy some food, but in the back of his mind he knows that money is needed elsewhere – he needs to fill up with gas this week, and he really has to keep saving for new shoes because his current pair are damn near falling apart…

He could scrounge something off Wayne, he knows. His uncle always packed some extra food in his own lunch, just in case Eddie wanted something – was always insisting Eddie’s too damn skinny, but Eddie would rather leave that food for Wayne.

So he sits a little awkwardly, watching the goings-on of the market while his new friends eat.

Until he feels Steve eyeing him curiously, having finished taking the lids off all his different containers.

“Not eating?” Steve asks him.

“Oh, nah, not hungry,” Eddie tells him easily.

Steve takes a small bite of his sandwich, chews slowly, then swallows it before speaking again. “Lunch time,” he says pointedly, “so eat.”

Eddie shrugs. “I didn’t bring anything. I’m fine.”

Steve shakes his head. “Can have some.” He gestures to his own lunch. “You pick.”

Beside him, Robin chokes slightly around her mouthful, splutters and sits up. “Dingus, you won’t even share your lunch with me.” She looks a little put-out, crinkling her nose up at Eddie.

“You have food,” Steve points out.

“Yeah, but that’s not…” Robin trails off, mutters something under her breath, then turns to Eddie. “You can grab something off the table if you want. Free of charge.”

“Thanks, but it’s fine,” Eddie tries to insist again.

Robin rolls her eyes. “Just take something, before Steve gets upset.”

Steve holds eye contact with her for a moment, a tiny smile gracing his face, before he turns serious again, looking at Eddie and nodding solemnly. Eddie caves way too quickly, pushing himself to his feet to walk back to the table.

“Fine!” Eddie says, and Steve relaxes immediately, smiling briefly.

Eddie doesn’t miss the small smirk that passes over Robin’s face, and he feels like he’s been played, but he doesn’t mind.

He chooses a slice of the strawberry tart because it looks so fucking good, the filling a vibrant red and the base some sort of dark chocolate biscuit-like texture.

He brings it back to his spot on the picnic blanket, is about to just pick it up and tuck in when Steve’s shaking his head and holding out a fork, and where he’d pulled that from Eddie isn’t sure but he takes it and silently agrees to eat in a more civilized manner.

“Take something for your uncle, too.” Robin crams the last of her sandwich in her mouth, and Steve tosses her a packet of wet wipes, Robin dutifully wiping her fingers clean. “And tell him his raspberries were seriously good, Steve had to take the carton away from me because I was eating them before he could even use them.”

“So that’s what you guys do during the week?” Eddie asks, digging his fork into the tart. “You bake everything?”

Robin snorts. “Not me, Steve barely lets me in the kitchen. I work at the library, but if Steve’s baking while I’m home then sometimes he lets me pass him stuff. You know, if I’m lucky,” Robin teases.

Steve narrows his eyes at her, then returns to his pottle of yoghurt.

So they live together, Eddie concludes.

And he can’t help the pang of disappointment that follows, the knowledge that these two are perhaps even closer than he suspected, that maybe they are together even if they’d shown no real signs of being anything other than close friends…

“How long have you known each other?” Eddie tries to keep his tone light, keep it casual, because if they are together that's fine, it's nice, it's totally cool with Eddie…

“Three years,” Robin answers, “we met working at the mall, at this ice cream place. Steve’s dad knew the mall manager, so…”

Steve shifts where he’s sitting, the easy smile fading from his face, and Robin trails off.

“Anyway, we both left that job after a while and decided to move away and rent an apartment together. And…here we are,” Robin finished quickly.

Eddie twists a ring around his finger, a little anxious because he hadn’t actually had his real question answered, tries to think of a tactful way to ask but he’s never been known for tact in his life…

“So are you guys together?” he blurts, staring at the blanket below him.

There’s a moment of silence, broken only by Steve placing his spoon back in his now-empty yoghurt pottle.

And then Robin laughs, rolling around a little like Eddie’s told the best joke she’s ever heard.

“Me and him?” she manages eventually. “No. God no. We’re just…friends. Totally platonic.”

“Capital p,” Steve pipes up.

“We’re like…the opposite of each other’s type,” Robin says, slowly, leaning in like she’s trying to get Eddie to understand something. “Like…total opposite, if you catch my drift.”

Eddie glances between the two of them. Steve picks up his spoon again, holds eye contact with Eddie for a tiny moment as he slowly licks it clean, and that’s…yeah, Eddie’s got a few thoughts about that, none of which he can voice out loud.

But with the way Steve’s eyes briefly lock with his, Eddie wonders if perhaps Steve’s having some similar thoughts of his own.

And then Steve’s packing his little containers away, stacking them back into his lunch box like there hasn’t just been some sort of small shift between him, unless it was all just in Eddie’s overactive imagination.

“Do you sell beets?” Steve asks him suddenly.

“Huh?” Eddie’s brain is still lagging on the sight of Steve’s pink tongue dragging over the spoon.

“Beets,” Steve repeats.

“Uhhhh…yeah. I think so.”

“Good. Need some.”

Eddie jogs his brain into action again. “What do you make with beets?”

“Red velvet cake. Better than food colouring. Making it for a friend, his birthday.” Steve’s placing his lunchbox back in the cooler and opening up a tin of food for Frodo, spooning a little bit into a bowl for the cat. He pats Frodo as the cat eats, and continues to chat away, his shoulders relaxed.

Eddie pauses part-way through chewing his tart (which is fucking delicious, all sweet fruit cutting through rich dark chocolate) just to watch Steve, and he’s pretty sure his pupils are dilating with the affection he’s feeling towards the other boy. Steve’s relaxed when it’s just the three of them (or four, with Frodo), and while he’s not making eye contact with Eddie he’s still speaking freely.

“Need it to be perfect. The cake. His party is on Friday. Need about…three beets, I think. Maybe more. Depends how big they are. Cake doesn’t need to be that big, Dustin only has a few friends. Good friends, though. And Robs, you’re still coming, right?”

Robin nods. “Nance is taking Mike, so…count me in,” she grins, and Steve huffs out a small laugh, and Eddie makes a mental note to ask about Nance sometime.

Steve pauses with his hand on Frodo’s back, and he looks over to Eddie. His cheeks flush in that now-familiar way.

“Youcouldcome,” he says, all in a rush.

“Hmm?”

“To the party,” Steve clarifies, ducking his head. “You could come.”

“Oh, I don’t…I mean, would your friend want some stranger at his birthday?” Eddie asks quickly, a little flustered.

Steve’s shoulders slump a little, the boy curling in on himself. He falls silent again, then shrugs and looks away.

Eddie feels like the worst person on the face of the earth, because it probably took a lot of courage for Steve to even ask him…

“He likes Lord of the Rings,” Robin blurts suddenly.

Eddie frowns. “What?”

“Dustin. The kid who’s birthday it is. He loves Lord of the Rings, like he’s seriously obsessed, he likes all that kind of stuff, so do his friends. And you…you like it too right, you knew about Frodo’s name and you’ve got that sword…thing tattooed on your arm.”

Eddie blinks down at his left forearm. “Anduril?”

Robin rolls her eyes. “Yeah, whatever it’s called. Anyway, you’d get along with the kids, so…you should come.”

Steve looks over at him with renewed hope.

And Eddie’s not sure how he feels about a kid’s birthday party, but if it means spending more time with Steve…

“Sure. Ok,” he agrees.

The smile that lights up Steve’s face is all the reward he needs.

Chapter Text

Eddie’s standing at the door to Dustin Henderson’s house on Friday evening.

He’d managed to swap his bar tending shift with a colleague, which meant he’d have to go straight from the market tomorrow to work a different shift but he didn’t care.

It’d be worth it, to spend some more time with Steve.

Even if it was at some random kid’s birthday party.

In one hand, he’s holding a crumpled bag. There’s a 3 Musketeers bar in there because Steve had told him they were Dustin’s favourite, but there’s also a drawing folded up and tucked carefully under it.

It’s a drawing of Smaug.

Eddie had pressed Steve for a little more information over the weekend about what Dustin likes, and while Steve could give him a few ideas – Lord of the Rings, Dungeons and Dragons…nerd stuff – he couldn’t really give him specifics like his favourite characters (Don’t know. The guy with the sword, maybe, Steve had told him. Which…wasn’t all that helpful, but Eddie assumes he meant Aragorn.) But Steve had nodded when Eddie asked if he also liked the Hobbit – Not the movies though. Said those were shit. – and Eddie figures everyone loves dragons, right?

So he’d drawn the dragon from The Hobbit.

It had taken him most of the week, carefully shaping the outline and then adding more and more detail. The reddish-gold scales, the bits of old treasure stuck to his belly, the bat-like wings and sharp teeth…he’d sat with the book open next to him, double checking Tolkien’s description as he worked away.

At the time, he’d been happy with it, thought it was maybe some of his best drawing yet.

But now, standing in front of a stranger’s door by himself, he felt…embarrassed. What if Dustin didn’t want some random shitty drawing from a stranger, what if everyone else had gotten him expensive presents, what if he took one look at the tatty metalhead on his doorstep in this nice family neighbourhood, nicer than where Eddie lived, and just…slammed the door in his face?

But Steve and Robin were already here – Steve’s beemer is parked out the front, and he’d told Eddie he was going to be there early anyway, to get the cake and everything set up.

Eddie takes a deep breath. Grips his bag tightly. Knocks on the door once, twice.

It opens, and there’s a middle-aged lady with a kind face looking up at him.

“Hi,” Eddie manages.

The lady smiles, and it’s warm and welcoming and something inside Eddie uncoils a little.

“You must be Eddie? I’m Claudia, Dustin’s mom. Steve’s told us all about you.”

He has?

Eddie smiles, ducks his head a little. “Yeah, that’s me. Hope you don’t mind me joining in.”

“Not at all! Any friend of Steve’s is welcome. Now, between you and me…” Claudia leans in close, and Eddie teeters on the doorstep. “I’m happy to see him make some more friends his age! He’s wonderful with Dusty and his friends, but still…it’s lovely to see.”

Eddie hears footsteps behind Claudia, and Steve stomps up behind her, narrowing his eyes.

“Oh, don’t look at me like that!” Claudia teases him easily.

“Talking about me,” Steve mumbles, then he reaches past her, grabs Eddie’s sleeve, and tugs him inside.

And Eddie…goes easily, happy to be dragged anywhere Steve wants him, surprised that the boy reached for him so readily.

“Only good things, dear,” Claudia assures Steve, closing the door behind them.

Steve rolls his eyes but gives her a smile that’s familiar and fond, and Eddie can feel the easy warmth between these too.

The house is only slightly larger than Eddie and Wayne’s shit-heap of an apartment but it’s clean and cosy, picture frames dotting the walls and school certificates proudly displayed on the shelves – awards for science, for math, for history – Dustin’s a smart kid.

There’s voices coming from the lounge where Steve’s steering him towards, and then Eddie’s face-to-face with a group of kids who fall silent as Eddie hovers in the doorway.

“This is my friend Eddie,” Steve introduces him without preamble.

There’s four boys and three girls blinking back at him. One of them, a curly-haired boy around twelve smiles wide at Eddie.

“Is that Anduril?” he exclaims, pointing at Eddie’s arm.

“Ah…yeah.”

“That’s awesome.” He scampers over, getting a closer look at the tattoo.

“…thanks.”

“Did it hurt?” A red-headed girl asked, tilting her head.

“Not really, not that one.”

“You have more?” Curly-hair asks.

“Yeah, I have a bunch of them.”

“Can we see?” Another boy asks.

“Well…you can see some of them, but some are ah…” Eddie awkwardly waves a hand at himself, trying to politely explain to the kids he’s not exactly going to strip down in their lounge.

He swears he sees Steve’s cheeks redden a little beside him.

“This is Dustin,” Steve says quickly, pointing at the curly-haired kid. “And that’s Lucas, and Erica, and Max, and Mike, and Will, and El.”

El’s sitting in the corner with Frodo, the cat perched on top of a small pile of wrapping paper and batting at a ribbon El’s dangling in front of him.

“Happy birthday,” Eddie says to Dustin, who looks a few seconds away from literally poking the sword on Eddie’s arm. “I got you…well, it’s not much, and I’m sorry if it’s shit – ah…I mean, not good, but Steve said you liked The Hobbit, so…” Eddie pauses his rambling to hand the bag over to Dustin.

The kid grins at the candy bar, then takes out the drawing and unfolds it.

The room goes quiet, and Eddie kind of wishes the ground would swallow him up. Unconsciously, he inches a little closer to Steve, who’s craning his neck to see what’s on the paper.

Dustin’s face slowly lights up as he looks at the drawing, then he turns it around proudly to show his friends. “It’s Smaug!” he announces. “This is really cool, I’m gonna put it on my wall. Thanks Eddie.”

And Eddie’s…well, he’s fucking relieved that it’s gotten the stamp of approval from this kid.

He rubs the back of his neck. “No problem. Sorry I couldn’t get you something better, I um…well, I couldn’t really afford anything, so…”

Dustin shakes his head. “This is great.” He frowns as Max snatches it from his hand to look at it. “Hey! Careful with it!”

As the room delves into noise again, Steve tugs lightly at the back of Eddie’s t shirt. “Kitchen,” he murmurs, before heading out of the lounge.

Eddie follows him to where Robin’s sitting on a stool at the bench, twirling in it idly and shoving her finger into a bowl of cake frosting on the table.

Steve slaps at her hand, ignoring Robin’s whine as he shifts the bowl out of her reach.

“Hey Robin,” Eddie greets her, taking a seat next to her as Steve happily resumes his work at the kitchen bench.

She manages a smile, but it’s kind of glum, and then sighs dramatically.

“Something wrong?” Eddie enquires, and Robin huffs out a breath.

“She’s in love,” Steve offers, not looking up from the bowl where he’s stirring something.

“Dingus!” Robin protests.

Steve pauses, looking up at Robin, his face serious. “Oh, are we…” he checks himself, lowers his voice, eyes flicking to Eddie. “Are we not telling him?”

Robin groans, slumping over the bench. “Well we might as well now.”

“…right,” Steve blinks a few times, then turns to Eddie. “She’s in love with Nancy Wheeler,” he says, as easily as if he was discussing the weather.

“Stevie?” Robin says.

“Mmm?”

“Maybe we could tell him quietly,” she emphasizes the last word, eyes flicking towards the lounge where the kids are, but there’s no sting to her tone.

Steve simply nods, and when he talks again he’s quieter. “Nancy. She’s Mike’s older sister. Was here before, dropped Mike off. But then she left, had something else to do. Robin’s sad because she thought she would stay for a while.”

Robin’s face falls as Steve talks, as if she’s reliving her suffering all over again.

Eddie nudges her side gently. “Sorry about that,” he offers. “Love, huh? Yeah it can…really suck.”

Like he’d know.

Eddie’s never been in love with anyone in his life, wouldn’t even know what that felt like.

Robin lays her cheek on the bench with a sigh.

Steve’s seemingly happy with the consistency of the frosting now, and he opens the fridge to pull out…

Well, it’s a fucking masterpiece, and it’s not even iced yet.

It’s not a very large cake but it’s tall, three tiers high and perfectly round, the colour a rich and vibrant red but without that fake-looking highlighter red tone that food colouring would sometimes give it…

“Used the beets from your uncle,” Steve comments as he sits the cake on the bench. “They worked really well.”

He starts to spoon the frosting into a piping bag, hands moving confidently, brow drawn a little in concentration as he pipes a neat little pattern around the edge of the cake.

“Stevie, can I have some frosting?” Robin begs, leaning further over the bench. “Pleeeease? Since my heart’s been broken…”

Steve scoffs a tiny bit, then shakes his head. “Maybe when I’m done. Can’t go sticking your fingers in it, that’s gross.”

Robin pouts. “Not fair.”

“Your heart hasn’t been broken. You don’t even know if Nancy likes you or not. You’d have to actually talk to her to know, and I don’t think you’ve said anything past ‘hi’…”

Robin slaps at his arm and Steve grins, and it’s cheeky and sly and Eddie can’t help but smile a little with him because oh, he can be bitchy, and Eddie fucking likes this side of Steve.

Because here, in a familiar place, surrounded by friends and doing what he does best, Steve’s so much more relaxed than Eddie’s seen him yet. He’s more comfortable talking, his hands are steadier, he’s moving around the room like he’s happy to take up space, he’s not drawn-in and closed-off like Eddie’s seen him a few times at the market.

He hopes, with time, Steve can feel this comfortable at the market too, but Robin had said it would take a while.

Eddie can wait.

And watching Steve now, looking on as he banters with Robin, as he smiles at her retorts, as he carefully layers frosting onto an already perfect cake with such concentration, Eddie feels warmth settle somewhere deep inside him. He’s content, happy to just watch the scene unfold and bask in the fact that Steve’s happy.

He wonders, briefly, if this is a little what being in love might feel like.

But before he can give much attention to a realization that serious, Claudia’s there with the candles and tearing through the kitchen in search of her matches, swearing that she’d seen them only a few days ago. Eddie pats his pockets, pulls out his lighter and offers it to her, she takes it while tutting lightly at him.

Eddie swallows. He’s not used to being mothered.

Wayne didn’t really care that he smoked. Told Eddie there were plenty of worse things he could be doing, and that he could hardly lecture Eddie on the dangers of it when he smoked more than Eddie did.

Claudia lights the candles, all twelve of them, and Eddie snaps a few pictures of it on his phone to show Wayne later – the man’ll be happy to see his beets put to good use.

“This is perfect,” she tells Steve, and then she’s pulling the boy into a hug and pressing a kiss to his cheek.

Steve screws his nose up but he’s laughing, and Eddie can tell it’s some sort of ongoing joke between the two of them.

“Thank you,” she says to him, earnestly now. “You know I could never afford a cake like this, and the ones at the grocery store are just nothing compared to yours.”

Steve flushes under the praise, dipping his head forward, bangs falling over his eyes.

Eddie kind of wants to squeeze him.

“The frosting is a little too thick,” Steve mumbles, but then it’s his turn for Claudia to tut at him.

“Nonsense, it’s perfect. Now, shall we carry it through?”

They let Steve handle the cake, walking it slowly into the lounge, Eddie Robin and Claudia following behind him, the latter starting up an off-tune version of ‘happy birthday’ as they enter the lounge.

Eddie doesn’t really do much for his own birthdays.

Wayne always gets him something, whatever’s he’s managed to save up for – sometimes it’s a band t shirt, sometimes it’s a book, or a pair of shoes Eddie’s been wanting – last year it was a new pair of decent headphones and Eddie was thrilled with those. They order pizza, watch a movie Eddie picks out, and he’s happy with that.

But his birthdays are always tinged with a little sadness. His mom’s not there. There’s no one singing happy birthday, there’s no home-baked cake, there’s no candles to make a wish over and blow out.

Eddie hangs back a little, swallowing a lump of emotion as the cake is lowered onto the table in front of Dustin, the kid leaning over it with a gummy grin splitting his face.

Steve steps back, joining Eddie in the doorway, and while he’s smiling there’s a shadow of…something else behind his eyes.

Maybe something akin to what Eddie’s feeling.

Dustin blows the candles out a little too enthusiastically, Mike complaining loudly that now there’s spit on the cake, but no one seems to care as Claudia starts dishing out slices.

Eddie and Steve take their plates last; Robin’s already halfway through her slice when Eddie sinks his fork into his own.

And fuck, it’s good.

He suppresses a moan, because the cake is soft and there’s just the right amount of frosting that it doesn’t overpower the cake…and sure, Eddie’s no baker, he’s not even remotely fussy when it comes to food – he can’t afford to be – but he’s pretty sure this is the best cake on the planet.

Steve’s watching him eat. He takes a bite himself, chews and swallows, but he seems far more interested in what Eddie’s doing.

“Good?” he asks eventually, with a hint of a smile.

“Good?” Eddie exclaims through his mouthful. “It’s fucking – ” he remembers where he is and winces. “Shit, sorry…it’s so damn good, Steve. Best thing I’ve ever had in my mouth, seriously.”

Steve’s lips part slightly, Eddie getting a glimpse of that pink tongue again.

Eddie swallows audibly.

“Do you play D&D?”

Dustin’s in front of him again suddenly.

Eddie shifts, dragging his eyes from Steve.

You’re at a kid’s birthday party, get it together Munson.

“Ah, yeah. I do.” He feels Steve’s attention drift to Robin, the boy leaving Eddie’s side to join her on the couch.

Eddie misses his close presence immediately.

“What’s your class?”

“Don’t have one, I’m usually the DM.”

“Cool! Will’s our DM. Well, sometimes Mike. But Will’s better.”

“Hey!” Mike protests from across the room.

“What’s your current campaign?” Eddie asks.

And then Dustin’s talking a mile a minute, he’s excited and animated and Eddie’s nodding along and grinning and adding his own input because he’s missed this, missed just talking about something he loves like this, has missed it since Jeff and Freak and Gareth started focusing on college and had less and less time for the game, for the band, for Eddie…

Later, he’s helping Steve clean up in the kitchen. The kids had become…loud, still high off sugar, and Eddie had followed Steve out of the lounge when he quietly retreated away from the noise with Frodo at his heels.

“Dustin loved his cake,” Eddie tells him quietly, as Steve hands him a soapy bowl to dry off.

Steve smiles, but stays quiet, his gloved hands wiping carefully at a fork in the sink.

“I took some pictures of it before it got demolished by them…I’m gonna show Wayne, he’ll love it.” Eddie pauses, takes a deep breath in, lets it out. “And maybe I could…send them to you? If you’ve got Messenger, or Insta, or…something?”

Steve nods. He’s silent still, almost a little…deflated, but he’s still smiling softly, swaying slightly to some rhythm only he can hear. He seems happy enough, just…tired.

“Had enough talking for today?” Eddie guesses, and chuckles when Steve quickly nods. “That’s ok. The kids are…a lot, huh? They’re great though. I…I’m glad I came. Thanks for inviting me.”

Steve leans over ever-so-slightly, bumps his hip against Eddie’s, the gesture friendly and playful and Eddie’s face aches with his smile.

Claudia finds them, briefly scolding Steve for doing the dishes and not leaving them for her, but her voice is fond as ever. “Dustin wanted to know if you wanted to stay to watch a movie? You too, Eddie, if you want to.”

Steve freezes a little, stammering around a word before falling quiet again, but Claudia only holds up a hand in understanding.

“You’re ready to go home,” she interprets.

“Sorry,” Steve whispers.

Claudia shakes her head. “No hon, don’t be silly. It was a big day for you, I know. Dustin won’t mind, he’s just happy you came.”

They’re outside the house, having said goodbye to the kids, when Steve silently gestures for Eddie’s phone, when he adds himself on Insta, then hands Eddie’s phone back with another soft smile. Eddie’s collecting those smiles at this point, stowing them away somewhere warm and secret.

And then he’s off, climbing into the drivers’ seat of his beemer, Robin waving out the passenger window with Frodo in her lap, and Eddie’s left with Steve’s smiling profile picture in his hand and the sweet smell of cake still lingering in his wake.

Chapter Text

 “I just wanted to let you know those were maybe the best muffins I’ve ever had!”

The kind-looking lady’s standing by the baking stall, having waved Steve aside.

“Thanks, Mrs Byers,” Steve says, bangs falling across his face as he ducks his head.

“The berries were just…amazing! They always go all mushy when I try to bake with them.”

“We get all the produce from Wayne’s stall. Over there,” Steve points towards Eddie’s uncle.

Mrs Byers looks over at the produce stand, smiling. “Well, I might have to pay him a visit then!”

A few weeks had passed, and Eddie’s still helping Robin and Steve at the market. He’s noticed that Steve’s starting to relax into his role a little more, not needing so many breaks, even managing to interact with the customers a little more – which was fortunate, because it was rare that the baking stall didn’t have a long queue now.

Eddie had basically become their full-time helper, in exchange for lunch and his pick of baking for himself and Wayne. Steve’s apple pie was Wayne’s favourite, and he didn’t complain about being left on his own at the produce stall so long as Eddie brought him some at the end of the day. Eddie always makes sure to secure him a piece before they sell out just before lunch.

Now, they’re packing everything away, having sold out of everything by early afternoon.

Steve’s hovering by the table, looking hopefully between Eddie and the trees where the squirrels usually hung out.

“You wanna go feed them?” Eddie asks, unable to hide a smile.

Steve nods, looking relieved, and starts to rifle through his bag…only to pull out an empty bag with a glum expression.

“Forgot to buy more almonds,” he mumbles, and starts frustratedly stuffing the bag away.

“We can get some fruit from Wayne instead,” Eddie suggests.

Steve ponders that for a moment. Eddie’s offered a few times to introduce the two of them, but Steve’s been too shy, asking Eddie or Robin to get the produce needed for his baking instead.

But this time, Steve stands up and gestures for Eddie to lead the way.

And Eddie’s…slightly nervous while walking towards his uncle. He’s told him about Steve, about his baking, that he’s autistic and shy but sweet as hell, and while he knew Wayne would be polite he was a little worried he wouldn’t know how to talk to someone like Steve, maybe he’d stare or unintentionally make him uncomfortable…

Steve’s more anxious than Eddie is, though. Eddie can tell by the way he drops back behind him, the way he’s wringing his hands slightly, the way his gaze darts around as his body seems to tighten up. It’s been a long day and Steve’s tired, his limited social battery pretty drained at this point.

Just as they’re about to reach Wayne, Eddie feels fingers grasping at his sleeve. He stops, turns to face Steve.

“You ok?”

Steve nods once, pauses, then shakes his head.

“You wanna go back?” Eddie asks, giving the boy an easy out if he wants it.

Steve rocks on his heels, looks back over his shoulder to where Robin’s packing empty boxes into his car. Frodo meows at his feet, and Steve glances quickly down at his cat then back to Eddie again.

He shakes his head.

“Ok, well…what are you worried about?” Eddie’s got a pretty good idea of what it is – can see the way Steve’s looking anxiously towards Wayne’s stall. “Meeting my uncle?”

Steve nods.

“That’s ok. Wayne can be…kinda gruff, but he’s the best guy I know. You’ll be fine.”

Steve’s fingers are still gripping Eddie’s sleeve. The boy fiddles with the fabric a little, frown still on his face.

“How about I do all the talking?” Eddie says quietly, tipping his head to try and catch Steve’s eye. “You just stand there and…look pretty.”

Steve flushes.

Eddie’s cursing himself inwardly, because he hadn’t meant for those words to slip out but he couldn’t help it – Steve’s in a buttery yellow button-up and his hair’s falling perfectly and his tired eyes are shining behind his glasses - pretty’s a fucking understatement.

But Steve’s letting go of his sleeve and smiling, and he follows close behind when Eddie resumes his walk over to Wayne.

“Eds!” Wayne greets him as they approach. “You got some of that pie for me, son?”

Eddie holds up a box and Wayne breaks into a grin. He catches sight of the boy hovering behind Eddie, looking at the produce on the table with wide-eyed interest.

“This is Steve,” Eddie says to his uncle. “And Steve, this is my uncle Wayne.”

He gestures between the two of them. Wayne smiles, reaching over the table to hold out a hand to Steve.

Steve inches himself closer to Eddie, his eyes downcast, hands firmly clasped together in front of him. His cheeks are becoming redder by the second.

Eddie gives a tiny shake of his head to Wayne, hoping his uncle would catch on quickly.

Wayne does, lowering his hand and clearing his throat. “Well Steve, Eddie’s told me you’re the one behind all that baking. Let me tell ya, this apple pie’s the best damn part of my day.”

“What, better than spending time with me, old man?” Eddie teases him easily.

“Damn right,” Wayne replies, “I’m not sure how you put up with all his yapping, Steve, but even with business picking up a little at least I get some peace and quiet over here now.”

Wayne’s joking, Eddie knows he is, the easy smile on his uncle’s face is proof of that.

But Steve’s frowning a little again.

“Doesn’t yap,” he mumbles, almost imperceptibly. “Just talks. I like hearing it.”

Eddie goes warm all over. He leans in closer to the boy. “Wayne’s just kidding. He knows I’m a joy to be around.”

Wayne scoffs. “You’re welcome to him,” he says to Steve. “Anyway, can I getcha anything? You need some more stuff for your baking?”

Steve shakes his head – that’s a job for Sundays, Eddie knows by now.

“We need something to feed the squirrels,” Eddie pipes up as casually as he can, avoiding Wayne’s eye.

Wayne blinks several times. “The squirrels?”

“Mmm hmm.”

“You’re gonna waste my fruit on…squirrels?”

Steve makes a soft noise of distress beside Eddie, looping his arms across his stomach.

Eddie locks eyes with Wayne then, tries to silently communicate with him to just go with it, please.

“Yeah. Steve’s run out of almonds, and he wants to feed the squirrels. So…here we are.”

Wayne shakes his head, lowering himself back into his seat, and flaps a hand at his table. “Well, take what you want, I suppose. But hey, if it’s almonds you want, you should see if Dmitri’s got any left. His stall’s over by the playground.”

Eddie had honestly completely forgotten about Dmitri and his nut stand. He and Wayne were old friends, frequenting the same markets for years. Maybe one day they’d see about getting some almonds from him, but right now Eddie didn’t want to push Steve into meeting someone else as well – not when the boy’s currently hugging himself and swaying on the spot a little. Frodo’s sitting on top of his feet and staring up at him, keeping a close eye on him too.

“Maybe next time,” Eddie tells Wayne. “But I can get something here for free,” he adds with a grin, then turns to Steve. “What do you think, Steve? What’s good for the squirrels?”

Steve takes a moment to respond, but finally points to a bunch of grapes.

“Are they seedless?” he whispers to Eddie. “They can choke on seeds.”

“Wayne, these seedless?” Eddie relays.

Wayne confirms they are and Steve nods to Eddie, who snaps a few off the stem.

“Thanks.” Eddie gives a quick wave to his uncle, who raises an eyebrow before offering Steve a smile again.

“Nice to meet ya, Steve.”

Steve opens his mouth, clearly wanting to say something, but no sound comes out. He settles for a nod instead, eyes on his shoes.

Eddie makes for the trees, Steve on his heels.

“Sorry,” Steve’s murmuring once they’re alone, hidden from the rest of the world by the tall trees.

“Huh?” Eddie takes a seat on the old bench, automatically laying out his bandanna for Steve, but the boy’s standing in front of him and avoiding his eyes.

“Sorry. About…that. Wanted to say hello to him, but…” Steve trails off, absently looking at the trees, scanning for squirrels.

Frodo hops up on the seat Eddie’s prepared for Steve, and Eddie chuckles lightly, getting Steve’s nod of permission before he pats the cat.

“It’s ok, Steve. He knows…about. Well,” Eddie flaps a hand awkwardly, not sure how to politely explain that he’s told Wayne about autism, that Steve communicates a little differently to other people.

“About me,” Steve finishes.

“…yeah.”

Steve spies a squirrel up above them, tosses a grape towards the base of the tree. “Probably thinks I’m a freak,” he mutters.

“What?” Eddie exclaims. “No, Steve. He doesn’t. And you’re not a freak.”

Steve watches the squirrel descend the tree trunk, pause to give him a cautious look, then dart over and snatch the grape. “S’ok. I kinda am.”

“Steve…” Eddie stands, approaches him slowly. He wants to reach out, wants to touch him, lay a hand on his back or his shoulder, but Steve’s stiff and drawn in on himself, and Eddie remembers the way Steve had flinched away from him the last time Eddie touched him when he was in this state. So instead, he stands beside him, both of them watching as the squirrel chews the grape rapidly. “Who told you that? That you’re a freak?”

Another squirrel scuttles through the undergrowth, and Steve carefully rolls a grape towards it. “My dad,” he mumbles.

“Your dad? Seriously?” Eddie swallows a mouthful of rage, hand twitching with the urge to reach for Steve again.

Steve nods, his face blank as he watches the squirrels.

“You’re not a freak,” Eddie tells him firmly. “You’re autistic. You…you communicate a little differently, so what?” Steve says silent, so Eddie continues. “You know who is a freak? Me.”

Steve turns to him sharply, ready to say something now, but Eddie carries on.

“Seriously, you know I was so bad at school I had to retake senior year twice? I failed that shit so bad, I couldn’t focus on anything they were trying to teach me, I’m fucking stupid. I played D&D with a bunch of guys younger than me that I’m pretty sure only hung out with me because I was older and got them weed sometimes, and they’re gone now, got into college because they’re smart and I’m still here, I work in a shitty bar and still live with my uncle and I was so sure I wouldn’t need school because my band would take off and be successful and we fucking bombed Steve, no one came to our gigs and…and the only thing I look forward to is weekends because I can spend time with you.”

The words come out in a rush. Eddie’s not even sure where they came from, he’s never voiced these things before, ever, not even to Wayne. But as he puts them out into the world, into this little private space with the trees far older than them and the paint-chipped bench and Steve, he realizes he’s been living with them for a very long time.

Steve tosses the final grape across to the squirrels. His brows are drawn together, and he looks down at the ground for a moment, scuffing a shoe across the edge of the walkway to scrape away a leaf stuck to it. Only then does he look up at Eddie again.

“You look forward to…me?”

And well…that was one way to put it.

The most accurate, perhaps.

“Yes.”

Steve smiles, his eyes crinkling a little at the edges, and Eddie’s reminded of Steve’s profile picture on his Insta, the boy smiling with Frodo in his lap – not that Eddie stalked his profile, he just did a little…research, ok?

“I look forward to you, too.” Steve breathes, and he’s quiet and soft and sweet.

Eddie blinks at him a few times, and it’s his turn to be lost for words for once.

“Not stupid,” Steve continues, stepping into Eddie’s space, and he’s close, close enough that Eddie can smell him – all sugary-sweet from working with his baking all day long, mixed with the familiar vanilla scent of whatever he puts in his hair to make it fucking look like that, and something else, something musky and heady and Steve. “Just…different kind of smart. You…you understand me. Sometimes it’s like…like I’m screaming at people, and they can’t hear me, or maybe they don’t want to. You do. You make me feel…safe.”

Eddie swallows. No one’s ever said something like that to him before – no one’s looked at his ripped jeans, his faded shirts with the cut-off sleeves, the tattoos covering his arms, his unruly hair and wild eyes and told him he feels safe.

Steve picks Frodo up, then sits himself down on Eddie’s laid-out bandana and puts the cat on his lap. He’s seemingly unaware of the state he’s put Eddie in, who’s busy quietly reeling over the feelings he’s got careening through his veins for this boy.

“That’s the same squirrel that was here the first time,” Steve says, pointing to one of them.

“Hmm?” Eddie manages to squeak, trying to recover from the things Steve’s said to him, from the way he’s made him feel.

“Missing a little patch of fur on his shoulder. See?”

Eddie sees it, but he doesn’t remember it from the first time they were here, doesn’t have the same eye for detail that Steve does. That squirrel is sitting apart from the others that have gathered now, watching as the rest of the group devours the remainder of a grape.

“Guess he’s a freak too,” Steve murmurs, but then he’s looking at Eddie, his eyes sparkling.

Eddie can’t help it - he breaks into a matching smile.

“Yeah. Guess he is.”

Chapter Text

Eddie can tell Steve’s teetering on the edge what he can tolerate.

It had started first thing this morning, when Tammy fucking Thompson had the unfortunate idea of setting up right next to the baking stall to play her slightly out-of-tune guitar while wailing her way through an endless litany of songs, seemingly determined to fill up the tip jar in front of her feet.

Steve’s been clenching his jaw so hard for the last hour that Eddie’s sure he’s got to have a headache from it. He’s tense, his movements stiff, flinching whenever Tammy hits a particularly…impressive high note. He ignores Robin’s attempts to banter with him, doesn’t crack a smile even at the Muppet comparison she makes which Eddie thought was actually pretty funny, and keeps his eyes downcast, fiddling constantly with Frodo’s loose lead that he’s wrapped around his wrist.

“Steve, you want to sit in the car? Me and Robin can hold the fort here for a while,” Eddie offers two hours into their morning, but Steve shakes his head determinedly, not looking up at him.

And yeah, after a while, Tammy’s singing is definitely getting on Eddie’s nerves too.

Steve had grabbed his noise cancelling headphones eventually, ignoring the funny looks he received from a few of the customers they were serving. But even those couldn’t block out Tammy completely when she was right beside them.

Finally, when she’s closing out a very wobbly rendition of ‘Wagon Wheel’, Eddie marches over to her, holding up a crumpled twenty dollar bill.

She grins at first, obviously expecting him to lower it into her tip jar, but her smile slowly fades as Eddie shakes his head.

“You can have this,” he wiggles the note, “if you literally just move to the other end of the market.”

Twenty bucks isn’t small change for Eddie – he needs every damn dollar he’s got, but this will be worth it if it makes Steve more comfortable.

She frowns at him. “Why?”

Eddie sighs. “My friend…has a headache, and you’re…” he flaps a hand at her. “…loud.”

Narrowing her eyes, Tammy looks to her nearly-empty tip jar and back to Eddie again, then nods. “Works for me.”

Taking the money from him, Tammy starts to pack up, and Eddie’s shoulders slump with relief as he makes his way back to the baking stall.

“What’d you do?” Robin hisses to him, watching gleefully as Tammy slings her guitar over her shoulder.

Eddie shrugs. “Paid her to leave.”

“Oh my god,” Robin cackles, slapping him on the arm. “You should’ve said, I think we all would’ve contributed to that.”

Steve carefully lifts one side of his headphones, testing the waters, and sags a little in relief when he realizes he can no longer hear Tammy.

And while Steve relaxes a little bit after that, he’s still…quiet, withdrawn, ignoring Eddie’s attempts to talk. When there’s the blare of an emergency siren from an ambulance speeding past the park, Steve tenses up again, scrabbling at his ears briefly before refocusing himself on his task, shoving baking into bags a little too forcefully, ignoring a lady trying to complain that they’re already sold out of brownies until Robin quickly intercepts her and handles it.

Eddie just wants to help him, but he’s not sure how.

“He doesn’t do well with noise like that,” Robin whispers to Eddie, when they’ve paused for lunch and Steve’s retrieving his food from the car. “Takes him a while to go back to normal. He’ll be ok eventually.”

“Do we just…leave him alone?” Eddie questions.

“You can still talk to him, still include him, just…don’t expect much out of him for a bit, and don’t push him to talk till he’s ready.”

Eddie nods, pondering Robin’s advice.

Frodo’s sticking even closer than usual to Steve’s side, pressing up against him while they’re sitting on the grass with their lunch. Steve eats slowly, stopping every now and then to pat his cat, watching the activity around the market with a blank expression.

“Hey, these are really good Steve,” Eddie says, holding up the banana and chocolate muffin he’d swiped from the table, trying to get Steve’s attention. “I don’t even usually like banana, but these…these are good.”

He gets a tiny smile from the boy in return, and Eddie supposes it’s better than nothing.

“Shall we go feed the squirrels later today?” he continues casually, “I can get almonds from Dmitri’s stall if you don’t have any still.”

Steve shakes his head minutely.

“No? You don’t want to?” Eddie checks, a little surprised because Steve never turns down an opportunity to visit the squirrels.

Steve quietly packs his half-eaten yoghurt away. He hasn’t touched his sandwiches, or his muesli bar, and he’s rocking slightly where he’s sitting cross-legged. He shakes his head again.

“Ok,” Eddie says softly, and he’s a little disappointed but determined not to let it show in front of Steve.

But Robin’s eyeing her best friend a little worriedly now. “Stevie? You want to go home early? It’s ok if you do, we can just -”

“No,” Steve snaps.

“You’re sure? Because honestly, it doesn’t matter.”

“I said no!” Steve spits out, with more venom than Eddie’s ever heard from the boy.

Frodo climbs across Steve’s lap and buts his head against the bottom of the boy’s chin.

Steve sniffs, then softens a little. “Sorry,” he mumbles.

“It’s alright,” Robin assures him. “But I think you should take a break while me and Eddie handle the stall for a bit, ok?”

Steve shakes his head again, but Robin stays firm.

“Steve,” she says, in a tone that left no room for argument, “take a break.”

Finally, Steve caves, picking up his lunch and stomping his way over to the car with Frodo trotting behind him.

Robin sighs, watching to make sure he gets in the car and slips his headphones back on, then turns back to Eddie with a tight smile. “This is…one of his not-so-good days.”

“That’s ok,” Eddie assures her.

“He’ll come right, he just needs some time alone to reset. Tammy set him off, and he’s had some rude customers today, and then that siren…he hates loud noises, especially sirens, he won’t tell me why.”

Eddie’s not particularly a fan of them either, not after he sat on the hard floor next to his mother at ten years old, not after he listened to the wail of the ambulance approaching far too fucking late.

As they reopen the stall and serve the line of customers waiting, Eddie sneaks glances back towards the beemer, trying to check on Steve. He wishes he could go to him, pull him to his side, ask him what he could do to help, but he also wants to listen to Robin – she’d told him Steve needed some time to himself, and Robin knew him far better than Eddie did.

Suddenly, from somewhere behind them, there’s a sickening crunch of metal on metal, the ear-piercing shriek of a car alarm coming from the road beside the park. Eddie freezes halfway through dishing up a slice of lemon torte, turning towards the source of the noise, but he can’t quite see through the trees to the road from here.

A few moments later, however, there’s the deafening sound of emergency sirens, all blurring together with the car alarm and the distant sounds of yelling until it’s almost enough to make Eddie want to clap his hands over his ears.

He shares eye contact with Robin briefly, then the two of them look back to the beemer.

The passenger door is open, and there’s no sign of Steve.

Eddie’s heart thuds. He runs to the car, head swiveling as he looks in all directions for Steve, but he can’t see him anywhere. He can’t see Frodo either – supposes that’s a good thing, that at least Frodo’s probably with Steve, unless he had also been so spooked by the noise that he’d taken off somewhere else.

It only takes Eddie a moment to realize where Steve’s probably gone.

“The trees!” he yells to Robin, over the noise of the screaming sirens. He can just see the flashing of lights from the road now – emergency services arriving at whatever the scene was. He points in the opposite direction – to the maple trees, the park bench, the squirrels’ hang out, Eddie and Steve’s spot. “I’ll go!”

Before Robin can argue, Eddie’s off, side-stepping around people who’d stopped to stare at whatever was unfolding nearby, making for the trees, for Steve.

Frodo spots him first. The little cat darts down the path towards him, meowing loudly, urgently.

“I know, buddy,” Eddie tells him, “I’m coming.”

Frodo turns and scampers in front of him, leading him into the trees, where Eddie’s already going.

Steve’s curled up in a ball at the base of the maple tree off the path. His arms are around his knees and he’s rocking on the spot, headphones fallen to his neck and half hanging off. Eddie can see tear tracks on his cheeks, eyes red and puffy behind his glasses.

“Stevie,” Eddie breathes, slowing his pace and approaching him carefully, like Steve’s some sort of wild animal he’s trying not to spook.

Frodo pushes under Steve’s arm, settles himself firmly in the boy’s lap, then meows at Eddie again, eyes imploring him to fix Steve.

Eddie crouches beside him. “Steve?”

There’s no response. Steve’s looking through him, past him maybe, locked in his own head.

“Steve? I’m gonna put your headphones back on, ok?” Eddie reaches for them slowly. It’s a little quieter here, the trees blocking out some of the noise from the road, but the sirens are still audible.

Steve doesn’t object, and Eddie gently adjusts the headphones so they settle back over Steve’s ears, further blocking out the noise.

Eddie sees Steve’s chest move with a wobbly exhale.

He smiles, tilting his head so it’s in Steve’s line of sight, and then he settles down next to him – there’s not a lot he can do until the sirens stop except sit with Steve through it, and that’s what he’s determined to do.

The minutes drag pass until finally the sirens die off, until someone kills the car alarm, until the road noise returns to normal again.

Eddie gently taps Steve on the shoulder. The boy turns his head a tiny bit, and Eddie mimes taking the headphones off.

Steve nods shakily.

Eddie slips the headphones off, letting them settle around Steve’s neck. Steve blinks several times then sighs heavily when he hears only the trill of birds overhead, the distant rumble of traffic, and Frodo purring loudly in his lap.

“You ok?” Eddie murmurs to him.

Steve shakes his head. “Dirty,” he whispers, like he’s trying to make the least amount of noise possible. He lifts up his hands, frowning down at them – they’re covered in dirt and leaves where he’d buried his hands in the soil in desperation. There’s a streak of black on his cheek too, where he must’ve tried to wipe at the tears on his face with muddy hands.

“Here,” Eddie coos, pulling the bandana from his back pocket – it’s never gotten so much use as it has since Eddie met Steve. Slowly, as gently as he can, he dabs at Steve’s cheek, cleaning away the worst of the mud there.

He can’t help but brush at the tear tracks with his thumbs as well.

Steve’s slumped into him a little bit, like a puppet with its strings cut – wrung-out, resigned, exhausted.

“Gimme your left hand?” Eddie asks quietly. Steve does, watching Eddie with wide eyes as he picks away the leaves, as he scrubs at his palm as gently as he can with the bandana. And it’s not perfect -  they definitely could’ve used some soap and water - but Eddie doesn’t think Steve’s up to leaving this spot right now and it appears to be helping him a little judging by the way his breathing is starting to slow.

Eddie thinks back to when he used to have nightmares as a kid, when his mom or later Wayne would sit with him, when they’d read or talk to him until Eddie wasn’t so scared anymore.

And so, keeping his voice low, Eddie starts to talk.

“I’m not sure what happened on the road. Seems ok now, though. Robin’s looking after the stall. I was kinda worried Frodo might’ve run off, but he’s a good boy, huh? He knew what to do. He even came to get me, he ran to the end of the path and led me right here.”

He continues to chat to Steve for several minutes, the boy still looking distant, but not pulling away at all as Eddie wiped off his other hand.

He pulls out his phone after a moment, having felt it vibrate in his pocket several times.

There’s several messages from Robin, all demanding an update.

I’m with him. Eddie types back quickly.

You’re by the squirrel spot? I’m coming over. I closed up the stall.

“Steve, Robin’s coming over, that ok?”

Steve’s quiet for a moment, then he nods. Eddie goes to pull away, to stand up and give him some space now that he’s cleaned him up, but Steve grips his hand hard.

Eddie pauses, crouching back down. “Want me to stay?”

Steve nods, another tear slipping down his cheek. “Sorry. The sirens…”

“It’s ok, Steve.”

He freezes, then shakes his head again. “S’not. Fucking…embarrassing.”

Eddie makes a soft noise, shuffling closer to him. “It isn’t. Please don’t be embarrassed, you got overwhelmed, and -”

“Wanna be normal,” Steve punches out, through gritted teeth.

Then he’s curling further into Eddie’s side, Frodo hopping off as the boy twists, and Eddie’s trying to juggle with a lapful of Steve and finding the right words to respond to that when Robin arrives, jogging up the path and panting as she finds them.

“Stevie!” she exclaims, and immediately settles at his other side.

Wordlessly, Steve reaches for her, and Robin takes his free hand and clasps it tight.

Together, the four of them sit in the quiet little hollow beneath the maple tree, and wait for Steve’s tears to dry.

Chapter Text

Robin is going away next week.

Eddie sits up as his phone buzzes on Friday night, Steve’s name flashing across the screen with an incoming message.

They message a lot now, the two of them.

There’s a group chat going with Robin too, and Eddie enjoys that, but Steve’s messages make his heart do a stupid little flutter every time.

He types out a message back.

Where’s she off to?

The little dots flash across the screen as Steve types. Eddie waits, the phone screen bathing his small room in blue.

To stay with her parents while they’re helping her grandma, she’s sick.

Oh damn, I hope she getsbetter. How long she going for?

Monday till Friday.

There’s a pause while Eddie tries to think of his response. Would Steve like having the house to himself? Eddie knows he needs time to himself sometimes, but was a week on his own too much? Did he even like having his own space, or was that just an unavoidable necessity sometimes?

Who’s gonna hand you spoons and shit while you bake? Eddie settles on eventually, sending a winky face so Steve knows he’s not serious.

Thought maybe you could.

Eddie nearly drops his phone, narrowly avoids taking a serious blow to the face from it. He didn’t expect Steve to be so forward with that suggestion, but then again Steve had surprised him with brutal honesty once or twice already.

Sure, if you really want me there.

Eddie cringes after sending that because the tone sounds off, he doesn’t sound nearly as excited as he feels, hopes Steve doesn’t read into that and get the wrong idea and think he’s not interested in coming over…

Yes.

A one word reply. Blunt, to the point, no frills, just honest.

Eddie swallows. Stops himself from kicking his feet under the blanket, but only just.

Cool. Sounds fun. Which day do you want me to come around? I work most evenings but amfree during the dyas.

*days

He gnaws at a thumbnail, frustrated that his fingers are typing faster than his brain can work, turning his words to mush.

You could just stay at my place.

Eddie’s heart stops for a moment. Because yes, yes he wants to do that, but this is all moving quite quickly and he hadn’t prepared himself for anything like this – he likes Steve, he really likes him, but he can’t really pinpoint how Steve feels in return about him. They’re close, have been working together for weeks now, and Steve’s face lights up whenever Eddie meets him at the baking stall bright and early on weekends now, he smiles that warm and lovely smile that makes Eddie kind of goopy on the inside…

He's taken too long to reply, he realizes, because Steve sends another message.

Just if you want to. Thought it might be fun.

Eddie’s furiously typing out a message of agreement when another comes through from Steve that solidifies his decision.

I don’t really like being on my own.

And Eddie, well…Eddie’s pretty much already mentally packing his bag.

*****

It’s Monday morning when Eddie knocks on Steve and Robin’s door. Their apartment is nice – it’s a few blocks away from the main park where they hold the market, on a quiet street with a tiny café on the corner. It's an old brownstone building, with colourful flowers spilling from pots hanging from the railing of the little balcony above Eddie’s head.

He hears footsteps approach, hears Steve firmly tell someone to stay – Frodo, Eddie guesses, and then the door swings open.

And Steve…Steve nearly takes Eddie’s breath away. He’s dressed more casually than Eddie’s used to seeing at the market – he’s still in Levis but these are more faded and worn, and he’s wearing a soft-looking white t shirt instead of his usual polos. His hair is mussed like he’s not long woken up, and he doesn’t have his glasses on yet as he blinks owlishly at Eddie once, twice.

Then he smiles.

Eddie grins back, shoulders his duffel that’s basically falling apart at the seams.

“Hey, Stevie.”

Steve beckons him inside, Frodo sitting obediently at the doorstep until Steve closes the door again, and then the cat’s winding happily around Eddie’s feet.

Robin meets them in the hallway, burdened with an armload of sheets, looking frazzled and red-faced.

“Eddie!” She tries to wave, ends up dropping a sheet in the process. “Sorry, I just…lost track of time, I’m about to go, but I’m just putting new sheets on the bed for you, I couldn’t find one of my shoes and I sort of maybe left packing to the last minute but everything’s fine!” She finishes with a chuckle, breathless.

Eddie shakes his head, still smiling, wondering how the hell this chaotic girl and the boy so dedicated to his routines became so intertwined.

He thinks it’s sort of perfect.

“Told you you should’ve packed last night,” Steve admonishes her.

“I can do the sheets, don’t worry about it,” Eddie says, dumping his bag to the side to help pick up the sheets Robin’s dropping everywhere.

“Actually, here, come help me.” Robin grabs Eddie’s arm with one hand, tugging him down the hallway. “Steve, can you turn the washing machine on and maybe look for my car keys? Because I swear they were on the hook when I last looked, but they’ve walked off.”

Steve rolls his eyes but it’s fond, and he sets off to do as he’s asked.

Eddie follows Robin into what must be her room. It’s small but with just enough room for the double bed pushed up against one wall and a dresser in the corner. Eddie’s gaze goes to the walls – adorned with pieces of eclectic art, a poster with a map of Europe, and the shelves filled to bursting with books Eddie’s never heard of.

“Ok, so…” Robin starts, tossing Eddie a fitted sheet. She lowers her voice when she talks, glancing to the door to check Steve’s not in ear shot. “A few things. Steve’s…particular, I think you know that already, and he can get upset at changes in his routine, so don’t be surprised if he’s a bit out of sorts for a day or so, ok? Also, you’ll see a bunch of lists on the fridge. Groceries, chores etc, just don’t mess with them, they make him happy.”

Eddie tucks a corner of the fitted sheet over the bed, nodding along.

“He’s really clean, too. Honestly, I don’t know how he puts up with me, he doesn’t come in this room often because I think it would literally cause him, like, physical pain, but don’t leave clothes lying around in the lounge and don’t let the bathroom get too messy and don’t leave dishes in the sink because he gets upset but he often won’t say anything, he’ll just do all the cleaning up and won’t actually tell you that he’s -”

“Robin,” Eddie interrupts her gently, as Robin’s voice starts to border on frantic. “Don’t worry, ok? I’ll clean up after myself, promise.”

Eddie’s gonna have to work hard at that, he knows. He’s not exactly a tidy person, Wayne’s always grumbling at him about it – but for Steve, he’ll try his best.

Robin takes a breath, fiddling with the clean sheet in her hand, squeezing it tight.

“Hey,” Eddie says gently, “he’ll be ok. We’ll have fun.”

Robin nods resolutely. “Ok. Just…if anything happens, ring me? Any time, I don’t mind.”

Eddie gives a little mock salute, then chuckles at the pink blanket Robin’s starting to unfold. “Wow, just my colour, Buckley.”

She pokes her tongue out at him. “Would you rather freeze?”

Eddie throws up his hands in surrender. They finish making the bed, listening to Steve move around the kitchen and the lounge looking for Robin’s keys.

“Found them!” he yells eventually, the metallic jingle of a keyring sounding as he wiggles it triumphantly.

“You’re the best, Steve!” Robin calls back to him, then she ducks close to Eddie again. “He’s been really excited for you to come and stay,” she whispers. “He spent a lot of time on his own as a kid, and it makes him nervous now, being alone any longer than a day. So…thank you.”

Robin heads out of the room without another word. They meet Steve by the door, where he’s kneeling on Robin’s suitcase, tugging forcefully at the zip.

“Why did you pack so much?” he groans, arms straining below his t shirt as he struggles with the zip.

Eddie bites his lip. Hard.

“I like to pack for every eventuality!” Robin throws up her hands. “Pretty sure I got that from you, dingus.”

“More like you ran out of time so you just threw your whole closet in here.”

She slaps him lightly on the shoulder. Eddie wishes it was him touching Steve instead.

Finally, Steve conquers the zip, then turns the bag around so the handle’s facing Robin. “All set,” he tells her.

Eddie hangs back a bit as Robin pulls Steve into a long hug. His arms wrap around her as easily as breathing, nodding when she murmurs something into his ear, his eyes flicking briefly to Eddie.

Then Robin’s picking up Frodo, kissing him on the head before lowering him again, and making her way out the door with a little wave to Eddie.

The door closes with a click, and Steve and Eddie are on their own.

A moment of silence, in which Steve starts to look a little nervous, stealing glances at Eddie before his eyes fall downcast, shrinking in on himself a little, deflating like Robin’s taken the oxygen with her.

And Eddie’s not having that.

“So,” he claps his hands together once, “have we got baking to do?”

Steve answers with a smile.

*****

Eddie’s perched on a stool across the bench from Steve, watching as the boy works confidently away, never missing a beat – he stirs, he folds, he rotates trays in and out of the oven, he monitors simmering pots and rolls out dough on a board and grates carrots and melts chocolate and…

Eddie loses track pretty quickly. Steve’s explained to him he can do a lot of his prep for the market in advance – anything that can be frozen, and then the fresher items he makes the night before. While he works, Eddie also takes the time to study the neat handwritten notes stuck to the fridge with magnets.

There’s a grocery list like Robin had said - mostly baking items, things Eddie’s never bothered to buy – stuff like castor sugar, cinnamon, cream, baking soda, vanilla pods…

Next to the grocery list is a print-out of the calendar month. Various chores are written up on different days – every Monday seems to be vacuuming day and groceries, Wednesdays are for cleaning the bathroom, Friday is for cleaning the kitchen – once Steve’s finished his market prep, Eddie supposes. Robin’s work hours have been neatly jotted down, as well as the days she’s going to be away this week, and then under that…

Eddie :)

His name’s written under today’s date, the little smiley face carefully drawn there, and Eddie knows it’s Steve that wrote it, recognizes his handwriting from the signs at the baking stall.

“Do you mind if…” Steve interjects quietly, shifting from foot to foot, pulling Eddie’s attention back to him.

“Hmm?”

“Can I put some music on?” Steve asks, his voice a little uncertain. “I like to have it on while I’m baking, but if it’s gonna be annoying I can use my headphones.”

“Go for it,” Eddie tells him, “and Steve?” he adds, the boy pausing where he’s reaching for the Bluetooth speaker on the windowsill. “Please just…do whatever you’d normally do when Robin’s here. If you want to play music, play music. Don’t worry about me, ok?”

Steve nods, looking a little relieved as he turns the speaker on and fiddles with his phone for a moment. Bruce Springsteen starts to play quietly as Steve settles on a playlist.

“You like the Boss huh?” Eddie bobs along to Dancing in the Dark – it’s not his usual jam, but he’s not mad at it – it’s something Wayne would listen to a lot, and Steve seems immediately soothed by the music.

Steve smiles. “I like 80’s stuff. So does Robin, so it works.”

“That’s cool, man.”

“What music do you like?” Steve asks, resuming his stirring.

“Well, some 80’s music too actually, but more like…Metallica, Iron Maiden, that sorta stuff.”

Steve wrinkles his nose slightly, and Eddie chuckles.

“No? Not a fan?”

Steve shakes his head. “They’re too…loud.”

Eddie nods, because he can see that being an issue for Steve. “Better than Tammy Thompson though, right?”

Steve snorts. “Anyone’s better than Tammy Thompson. Even Robin.”

“Robin sings?”

“Wouldn’t call it that.” Steve’s swaying his hips slightly along with the music. Eddie sort of wants to stand behind him, take him by the waist, pull him into a dance…“She sings in the shower sometimes. I wear my headphones.”

Eddie tips his head back and laughs.

The morning goes by quickly; Eddie helping Steve in the limited way he’s allowed – handing him a spoon, grabbing a dish out of the oven when Steve was busy bashing something with a rolling pin, but mostly just keeping him company – and lunchtime finds Steve pondering his grocery list on the fridge.

“Trip to the store?” Eddie guesses, and Steve nods firmly.

“Monday’s for groceries,” he answers, “and I get lunch at Chrissy’s.”

Chrissy’s Café is the one Eddie passed on his way in, on the corner of Steve and Robin’s street. They start to make their way there, Steve throwing on a soft red sweater at the door now that summer’s passed, Eddie immediately mourning the loss of the view of Steve’s toned arms. Steve stops at the door, frowning at Eddie in his sleeveless tee and ripped jeans.

“Aren’t you cold?”

Eddie shrugs. Yes. But in his excitement to get to Steve’s this morning, he might’ve forgotten to grab his leather jacket at the door.

“I’m fine,” he says, but there’s traitorous goosebumps rising on his arms.

Steve huffs, returning inside and emerging after a moment with a plain grey hoody, wordlessly holding it out for Eddie.

Eddie takes it, stuffs his arms into the sleeves, pulling it over his head, and…

It smells like Steve.

Sweet but not overpowering, fresh and clean and Steve and Eddie has to stop himself from burying his face in the collar. It’s a little big for him, baggy at the waist, and he has to shove the sleeves back a bit so they don’t fall over his hands but…Eddie kind of like it. Likes that Steve’s hoody envelops him, makes him feel warm and safe and maybe even a little small.

Like he’s something to be taken care of.

Eddie’s only ever felt like that with his mother and Wayne, until now.

Steve clears his throat, his cheeks tinging slightly pink as his eyes linger on Eddie, and then he’s walking towards the café with his hands stuffed into his pockets.

Chrissy might just be one of the bubbliest people Eddie’s ever met.

She chats easily to Steve at the counter, knowing his order without him having to ask – a caramel latte and a ham and cheese toasted sandwich – and introduces herself happily to Eddie, who’s a little…taken aback. Because Chrissy’s preppy and pretty and sweet, and usually the type of person to give Eddie a nervous side eye and wait for him to fucking shoplift or something.

But Chrissy greets him like he’s an old friend, and Eddie stumbles his way through explaining how he and Steve met as she puts their orders together.

They eat outside in the fresh autumn air, Steve spreading napkins across his lap to sit his toasted sandwich on. They’re quiet, sitting at a bench at the edge of Steve’s local park – much smaller than the one where they hold the market, but the bench is cleaner, and there’s a squirrel watching them curiously from the grass.

Steve reaches into his pocket and tosses an almond for it.

It’s comfortable, the quiet that exists between them right now. Eddie watches as Steve sips at his coffee, as foam clings to his upper lip, as a small smile spreads across his face as the squirrel snatches the almond and races up a tree to eat it.

Eddie’s used to trying to fill silence – with music, with yelling, with clawing for space and filling it any way he can because he’d been shoved to the side too many times in his life. Several times, he goes to say something, but stops himself. Steve’s happy, he’s content to eat and watch his squirrel and just sit with Eddie.

Eddie, who’s slowly realizing that peaceful silence is something he's quickly warming to.

Chapter Text

“Oh, Steve!” The lady at the grocery store checkout waves to them as Steve places the basket up on the counter. She turns briefly to Eddie. “And hello, you’re from the market too, you were helping Steve and Robin?”

Eddie recognized her from the market, the lady that had complimented the muffins…

“Hi, Mrs Byers. This is Eddie,” Steve says, engrossed with unpacking his basket. He’s doing it in a certain order, Eddie realizes – the meat first, then any boxed items, then milk and juice, then eggs and anything else delicate…Eddie supposes maybe that’s a normal thing to do, but it’s the stark opposite of his own toss everything onto the counter without looking approach.

“You know to call me Joyce, hon.” The lady smiles at him as she scans Steve’s items.

Steve nods, waiting patiently for Joyce to finish, rocking on his heels absently.

“Actually, I’ve been meaning to ask you something.” Joyce lowers her voice, leaning over the counter. The store’s quiet – Eddie knows Steve probably chose the time of day on purpose to avoid crowds, and consequently there’s no one queuing behind them. “A favour, if that’s ok, and you’re more than welcome to say no.”

Steve’s face twitches, pondering her words for a moment, and then he nods again.

Joyce continues. “Will’s finally getting his autism assessment,” she says quietly. Steve’s eyes widen a little, then he nods, letting her carry on. “He’s got an appointment next week. He’s nervous about it, and I wondered if…if maybe he could talk to you about it. Because he knows you well, and one of his teachers tried to talk to him about it but you know Will, he’s shy, and you’ll understand better than anyone else.”

Steve gives her a small smile. “Sure.”

Joyce reaches across and pats Steve on the hand. Eddie notes how Steve doesn’t pull away, how he seems quite content around Joyce, whose aura towards the boy is similar to that of Mrs Henderson – almost motherly. “Thank you. I could bring him to Chrissy’s one day?”

“Thursday. At four? Since you finish work at three that day.” Steve states, and Eddie’s got no idea how Steve keeps these schedules in his head so easily.

Joyce laughs, printing their receipt and handing it over to Steve. “Perfect. You two have a good afternoon!”

Eddie takes the bag of groceries before Steve can grab it, holding out a hand and giving a small playful bow, gesturing for Steve to go ahead of him. Steve gives him a funny look, then shakes his head and chuckles lightly, making for the door.

“Will was at Dustin’s party, right?” Eddie recalls as they stroll down the quiet street back towards the apartment.

“Yes.”

“And he’s…autistic too?”

“Maybe,” Steve says, “…probably. Joyce told me a while ago his teacher had mentioned it to her.”

“And so do you just get diagnosed by a doctor or something?” Eddie asks. He’s got no idea how it really works, how you’d even test someone for something like that.

“Sometimes.”

“Joyce said there was an assessment? Do you have to do, like, tests and shit?” Eddie quickens his pace to keep up with Steve, who’s walking with purpose now, head down, hands in his pockets.

“Yes.”

“Did you do those? I mean, back when you were diagnosed?”

Steve flinches a little, something dark flashing across his face, and he nods tightly.

Eddie backs off. He’s not sure why it’s a sore spot for Steve, but he stops poking it.

Changing tack, he asks, “Where did you meet these kids? Dustin and Will and everyone?”

Steve relaxes a little. They pause at the traffic lights, waiting for the crossing sign to light up. “At the park. Where we had lunch. I was feeding the squirrels, they were there with their bikes, they asked if they could feed them too. They wanted to know all about them. What they eat, mostly. So I told them, and they actually listened. A lot of people don’t really listen when I talk sometimes. And then they were there the next day and they’d brought almonds.”

They cross the road side by side, Steve’s sleeve brushing Eddie’s wrist. He thinks about how easy it would be to curl his fingers around Steve’s, to hold his hand as they walk.

“And they kept coming back. I fixed Dustin’s bike once when the chain came off. Took Will back to my place to wait for Joyce to come pick him up when he fell off his bike one day. She turned up the next day with muffins to say thank you.” Steve steers them into the park, cutting through the middle of it on a shortcut back. “They weren’t very good,” he adds seriously, then smiles when that pulls a laugh out of Eddie. “But the kids would come over sometimes after that. Watch movies and eat my baking. We started watching them sometimes when their parents were out. Me and Robin.”

“That’s cool. Joyce and Mrs Henderson seem to love you.”

Steve’s cheeks flush, and Eddie clenches the hell out of the too-big sleeve that’s fallen over his hand.

“They’re nice. Nicer than my mom was.” The words slip from Steve easily, but then he snaps his mouth shut, as if realizing too late that he’s let them out. “I didn’t…I didn’t mean that,” he stammers, hand trembling a little as he reaches to turn the key in the apartment door.

“It’s ok,” Eddie reassures him with a shrug.

“No, you don’t…” Steve stops, sucks in a large breath, his hand frozen on the doorhandle. “I didn’t mean that,” he repeats shakily.

“Steve, it’s fine.” Eddie’s hand is on Steve’s back before he can even stop himself, but the boy doesn’t seem to mind it settling there.

Steve unfreezes, turns the key, and opens the door.

“Sorry,” he mumbles as they step inside.

Confused, Eddie just shakes his head, brushing his hand one final time over Steve’s back before making for the kitchen to put away the groceries. He opens the pantry, starting to haphazardly shove the couple of tins in there, but Steve intervenes, taking a tin from Eddie’s hand almost crossly and rearranging the ones Eddie’s already put away.

Not taking it personally, Eddie leaves him to it and takes a seat at the bench instead, letting Steve put everything away as he saw fit.

“Do you want to unpack your things?” Steve asks him once everything’s away.

“Huh?”

“Your bag,” Steve says pointedly. “Do you want to unpack it? While I vacuum?”

“Oh, I was just gonna leave all my shit in the bag and pull stuff out when I need it,” Eddie answers nonchalantly. If he unpacks it he’s just gonna have to pack it all again on Friday, and he isn’t exactly comfortable with going through Robin’s drawers to put stuff away…

Steve gives him a look that Eddie can only describe as withering. “You should unpack, it’s tidier.” He opens his mouth, then closes it again, hands forming fists at his sides for a moment before he relaxes them again. “Sorry. Robin told me not to boss you around. It’s your bag. You don’t have to unpack it.”

“I’ll keep all my mess in Robin’s room, how’s that?” Eddie suggests.

Steve smiles sheepishly. “Thanks.”

“No problem.” Eddie hops off the stool, following Steve as he heads down the hallway to a small cupboard and starts dragging the vacuum cleaner out, then swipes his headphones from the table and gives Eddie a shy look.

“Robin usually vacuums,” he admits, “because of the noise. So I’m gonna wear these, won’t be able to hear you for a bit.”

“Hey, let me do it,” Eddie says, reaching for Steve’s wrist, making him pause before settling the headphones over his ears.

Steve shakes his head. “No, you’re a guest.”

“So? Maybe I want to vacuum.”

Steve frowns. “Do you?”

“Yes. I love vacuuming. It’s one of my favourite things, in fact.”

A beat passes, then Steve’s brow unfurrows. “You’re being sarcastic,” he realizes.

“Yeah,” Eddie laughs, taking pity on him. “But seriously, I don’t mind.”

Steve relents, seemingly relieved, and hands the vacuum over to Eddie, retreating to his room with Frodo to wait for the noise to end.

Eddie…isn’t good at this. At cleaning, at tidying, especially not to Steve’s meticulous standards. But here is, vacuuming the little apartment with as much care as he can, getting into all the corners and even under the couch as far as he can. The place is already extremely tidy in Eddie’s eyes - in fact he wouldn’t have bothered with vacuuming today if this was his own place – but this was Steve’s place, and Mondays were for vacuuming.

He doesn’t go into Steve’s room. The door’s shut, and Eddie figures if Steve wanted him to vacuum in there he would’ve said. That room was Steve’s space, and Eddie isn’t going in without permission.

Steve emerges when Eddie’s packed the vacuum away.

“Thanks.” He gives Eddie a lopsided smile, and Eddie would vacuum every damn house on the street if Steve smiled at him like that every time.

“No problem.”

Steve rocks back on his heels, tips forward again. “Do you work tonight?”

“Yeah. I gotta go in at six, then I finish at midnight. Maybe earlier if it’s quiet, which it probably will be.”

“I can make you dinner,” Steve says, looking towards the kitchen. “You can eat early. Or…or take it with you, if you want.”

“Oh, you don’t have to – ”

“Want to.” And Steve says it so earnestly that Eddie’s powerless to argue any further.

It’s only just after two in the afternoon now, though, and they’re stood in the hallway looking at each other, Steve continuing to rock on the spot a little bit, awkwardness creeping in.

If Eddie was with Gareth or Freak or Jeff, they’d be jamming in the garage, or playing a campaign, or lying on the floor and getting high…

But Steve’s different.

“What do you usually do when you’re not baking?” Eddie asks, once he realizes he’s going to have to be the one to break the silence. “Like, what do you like doing?”

Steve gives a one-sided shrug. “Watch movies. See the kids sometimes. Go to the park.”

They’d already been to the park today, and the kids would be at school, so that left…

“Wanna watch a movie?”

Nodding, Steve leads him back to the lounge, taking a seat cross-legged on the floor in front of the couch while Netflix loads up on the TV.

Eddie drapes himself over the couch behind him, blinking down at Steve a few times.

“You wanna sit on the couch?” he questions.

Steve shakes his head. “Floor’s good sometimes. What do you want to watch?”

“What sort of stuff do you like?”

Steve shrugs, his cheeks turning red. “I dunno.”

A smile crawls across Eddie’s face, and he gently nudges Steve’s shoulder. “Yeah you do. What kinda stuff do you and Robin watch?”

Steve crinkles his nose, turning to face Eddie slightly. “Robin likes…weird movies. They’re long and boring and sometimes they’re not even in English and we have to use the subtitles.”

“Ok, so what do you like?”

Steve goes quiet again, and Eddie bites his lip, forcing back a grin because he can tell Steve’s about to start squirming a bit, the boy’s all flushed and embarrassed and Eddie’s smitten.

“How about I guess, and you can just say yes or no?”

Steve nods once, intensely focused on the remote in his hand.

“…comedy?” Eddie guesses, even though he’s pretty sure it’s definitely not Steve’s favourite genre. He’d seen him struggle with sarcasm a few times, figures some of the jokes just wouldn’t hit home for Steve…and that’s fine, Eddie isn’t a fan of them either.

Steve shakes his head hard.

“Ok…horror?” Please say yes.

Steve holds his hand up, tilting it in a so-so gesture.

Eddie can work with that.

“What about sci fi?”

Steve shakes his head immediately, and Eddie sighs dramatically.

“Steeeeeve, what am I gonna do with you?” Eddie teases, prodding him lightly in the back with his finger again.

Steve grins, turning to slap at Eddie’s hand, but he’s too slow and Eddie’s snatched it back already.

“What about…action?”

Steve nods this time. “Sort of.”

“I knew it.” Eddie flops himself back on the couch in mock let-down. “Big strong guy like you, of course you’d be into that.”

Steve’s blush creeps further down his neck, reaching the two moles dotted on his throat, and Eddie’s heart sings.

“What about…” Eddie pauses for effect, watching as Steve tilts his head towards Eddie, hanging off his every word now. “Huh, what’s left? Shit, please tell me you’re not into like…romance or drama or something?”

Steve swallows, ducking his head, bangs falling over his eyes.

Ding ding ding.

“Stevie…” Eddie coos, “you telling me you like a love story?”

Steve huffs a breath from his nose, turning back to the TV again.

It’s not a denial, though.

“What’s on your continue watching list, huh?” Eddie says sweetly, then he shoots his hand out for the remote where Steve’s cradling it in his lap.

Steve snatches it, gripping it tightly, laughing as Eddie tries to wrestle it from his grip, protesting loudly but his eyes are shining and he’s cackling.

Eddie gives up, relinquishing to the stronger boy. “Alright Stevie, keep your secrets! But just put a movie on, yeah? Anything you want.”

Steve does, selecting some Netflix original movie that Eddie would’ve scrolled on past without a second glance. It’s badly written and the characters are cookie-cut but it’s colourful and easy to follow and sweet, and Steve’s enraptured with it.

Eddie’s only half watching it when Steve leans further back into the edge of the couch, his hair brushing the side of Eddie’s arm.

Eddie’s hand inches closer to Steve’s head. By the time the main couple are finally locking lips, Eddie’s got his hand in that chestnut hair and he’s stroking gently, grazing over Steve’s scalp occasionally.

Every now and then, Eddie sneaks a glance down at Steve’s face, checking that this is ok, that Steve’s not annoyed or upset at the touch.

But every time he looks, he finds it’s quite the opposite.

Steve’s eyes are growing heavier behind his glasses, his face relaxed, a tiny smile tugging at his lips as Eddie’s fingers continue a soothing path over the back of his head.

Chapter Text

Eddie hated having to go to work that night. Hated leaving Steve on his own, hated leaving the warm little apartment and patting Frodo goodbye at the door. Sure, he hated work at the best of times – the bar’s seedy and the pay is shit and the owner’s a prick - but usually there’s nothing waiting for him back at home. Wayne worked a lot of nights as well, and Eddie didn’t really miss their cramped little place when he was working.

But right now, he’s got Steve to miss.

And so his shift drags, Eddie half-heartedly pouring drinks and sliding them over the bar, wiping down tables, collecting up empty glasses. His heart skips a beat whenever his phone vibrates in his back pocket, because he knows who it’ll be.

On his break, Eddie sits down out the back with the dinner he’s zapped in the microwave – the pasta Steve made for him earlier, with the creamy tomato sauce and melted cheese and crunchy bits of bacon – and reads through his messages with a smile.

Steve

1843 – Hope work is going ok.

1903 – Frodo’s sitting by the door still I think he misses you.

There’s a picture of the cat sitting on the little red rug just inside the front door, staring forlornly up at it.

1933 – What time is your break? Hope you get to eat soon.

1949 – I hope you like the pasta. Think I overdid it a bit, sorry.

Eddie takes a bite, cursing the fact that the microwave had made it hotter than Satan’s asshole because it’s fucking good and he wants to shovel it down. Panting out steam, he quickly types a message back to Steve.

2032 – It’s so damn good, thnak you. Sorry I couldn’t reply before cos it was busy and my boss would’ve had me bythe balls

The reply comes in almost immediately, as if Steve had been waiting.

2033 – That’s ok. I’m glad you like it.

The three little dots appear under Steve’s name again, Eddie waiting while Steve types. The dots disappear, reappear, then stop altogether.

Eddie can practically feel the hesitation through the phone.

Steve must’ve deleted whatever message he’d typed out, because nothing comes through. Eddie shrugs and sends off another.

2036 – What are you up to?

2038 – Not much. I spoke to Robs, she got to her parents place and she’s good.

2039 – Cool

Eddie curses himself at his one-word reply because there’s so much more he’d like to say to Steve. His messages to his other friends tended to be long and rambling but right now he’s nervous, he doesn’t want to put his foot in it and say something stupid.

Still, he can do better than cool, so he’s thinking about his next reply when Steve’s message dings in.

2044 – Do you want to go to the museum tomorrow

Eddie smiles again, taking another bite – slower this time, but then in his haste to reply he drops his fork and it clatters on the table splattering sauce everywhere and he has to grab a paper towel to wipe up the mess. It takes him a few minutes to clean up and to rush back to his phone, heart thudding because he’s left Steve on read and he was probably nervous to ask Eddie in the first place…

2046 – They have a new mammal exhibit it looks cool

2047 – We don’t have to, if you don’t want to though. Sorry it’s probably dumb. I can go some other time with the kids.

Eddie slams his stupid fork back into the bowl.

2048 – No I’d love togo

He’s been to the museum once, a long time ago. It wasn’t too long after he’d started living with Wayne – they’d had a weekend of free entry and so Wayne had taken him along, and Eddie had been fascinated by the dinosaur skeletons and the section on space. He wasn’t sure if the mammal exhibit would be all that exciting for him, but fuck it – he could always just look at Steve.

But is this…is this a date Steve’s asking him on? Or is he just asking him as a friend? Eddie spirals over that for a few minutes, before he decides he’ll just have to wait and find out. Somehow.

2051 – Ok cool. It opens at ten.

2052 – Sounds perfect

It’s almost midnight when Eddie gets back to Steve’s place. The outside light is on, illuminating the door for him when Eddie turns the spare key in the lock. The hallway light is still on too, welcoming him in with a warm glow.

Steve must’ve gone to bed a while ago, his bedroom door left slightly ajar for Frodo to come and go as he pleases. The cat trots out of the room now, meowing at Eddie and winding around his feet as Eddie kicks his shoes off. He makes sure to stack them on the rack by the door, next to Robin’s battered red converse and Steve’s blue and white Nikes.

“Hey bud,” Eddie whispers to the cat, stroking his head, smiling as the cat purrs loudly.

Quietly, he makes his way to Robin’s room and flicks on the light.

He smiles.

Steve’s stacked several towels on the bed for him, all neatly folded. A bath towel, a face cloth, even his own hand towel.

As quickly and quietly as he can, Eddie showers, then gets himself ready for bed.

And if he spends nearly half an hour selecting his outfit for the museum tomorrow, well – no one had to know.

*****

Eddie’s woken the next morning by a tentative knock on the bedroom door.

He rolls over groggily, looking at the display on his phone for the time – 0918.

“Eddie?” comes Steve’s voice, quiet and unsure. “I was just checking if you still want to go to the museum? I thought if we get there when it first opens it might not be too busy. But we can go later, if you want to sleep more.”

Eddie would usually love to sleep more, would like to be unconscious until lunch time, but not this week.

This week he wanted every moment with Steve he could get.

“I’ll be up soon!” Eddie croaks, clearing his throat.

“Ok. I made breakfast.”

Footsteps pad away from the door, Steve retreating back towards the kitchen, and Eddie flings himself out of bed with more energy than he’s ever felt at this hour before. He takes a lightning-quick shower before battling with his hair and tying it back from his face, cursing as one hair tie snaps in his rush to get out to Steve.

He pulls on his jeans – they’re black and ripped still but they’re his good black and ripped pair, less faded than his other pair and without that weird stain by the knee and he likes the way they cup his ass – and the cleanest t shirt he can find in his bag. He throws a checked shirt on over top, the soft red and black one with the sleeves that are frayed but artfully frayed, he’d told himself while staring at it last night.

And then he’s emerging into the kitchen, where Steve’s sitting at the bench with a plate of pancakes and berries.

Steve looks up as he approaches, slow-blinking at him several times, pausing halfway through chewing his mouthful. He’s in his usual light-wash jeans and a cosy-looking yellow seater – in short, he’s fucking perfect.

 “Hi,” Eddie says, feeling his cheeks heat under that gaze, all of a sudden self-conscious.

“Hi,” Steve mirrors, then resumes his chewing, tearing his eyes away from Eddie and back to his plate. “There’s pancakes and berries over there, you can help yourself. And there’s syrup. If you want it.”

“Steve, this is…” Eddie eyes the fluffy-looking pancakes, the bright berry compote, and compares it to the bowl of slightly-stale cereal he usually wolfs down at home – that is, if he bothers with breakfast at all. “This is amazing. Thank you.”

Steve looks up briefly, then shrugs. “Just pancakes.”

“No, it’s…it’s really nice. Thank you.”

They eat together in peaceful quiet, Steve’s playlist playing at a low volume in the background. Steve’s looking at something on his phone – an advertisement for the exhibit at the museum, Eddie realizes as he tilts his head to see the screen.

Eddie insists on doing the dishes once they’re finished eating, and puts them through quickly, leaving them to drip-dry on the bench.

Steve tops up Frodo’s bowl with kibble and pats him gently, then starts pulling his shoes on at the door.

“Frodo not coming?” Eddie asks, forcing his eyes not to linger on Steve’s jean-clad ass he bends over to tie his laces.

“No,” Steve says. “I think…think I’ll be ok without him. For today.”

“You’ve been to the museum before, then?” Eddie continues. If Steve’s confident enough to leave Frodo at home, he must know the museum well, right? He must be comfortable there.

“Few times,” Steve answers, fiddling with the keys at the door. “That’s not…that’s not why I’m happy to go without him though.”

Eddie frowns. “Why, then?”

Steve looks at him.

Those honey-brown eyes roam Eddie’s face, lingering, and Eddie goes warm all over.

“Oh,” Eddie murmurs.

Steve gives him a lopsided smile. And then he’s heading for the beemer, leaving Eddie to turn that interaction over in his head for the entire drive to the museum.

In the small queue for tickets, Steve’s excited, and Eddie can’t keep the stupid smile off his face because Steve’s endearing as hell like this. He’s all movement – rocking on his heels, repeatedly shoving his glasses back up his nose, flapping a hand occasionally, craning his head to try and see past the ticket booth and into the exhibits.

“Stevie, we’ll be in there in a few minutes,” Eddie chuckles to him.

“Too slow,” Steve mumbles, frowning at the few people left in front of them. There’s not many, luckily – Steve has his headphones looped around his neck just in case the place gets crowded and he needs to block out some noise, but getting here early in the day had been a good idea.

A short time later, they’re inside. Eddie’s a little overwhelmed at the signs on the wall, trying to pull up a map of the exhibits on his phone because this place is big and he doesn’t know where to start. But Steve tugs at his sleeve, pulling him towards a door on the left, leading him up a flight of stairs and past the Marine Life section until they reached the new exhibit for the mammals.

“Memorized the map before we left home,” Steve explains to Eddie quickly, and then he’s striding into the exhibit, Eddie hurrying to keep up with him.

Steve’s eyes light up at the sight of the Small Mammals section, and he darts over to look at the displays. There’s a variety of rodents, there’s rabbits, there’s raccoons and moles and…squirrels. He reads the information boards with intense interest even though Eddie’s pretty sure he already knows everything written there and more.

Eddie looks around a bit with mild interest, but he’s gotta admit that the cold fake eyes on the taxidermied animals give him the creeps a bit. But Steve…Steve’s just lapping everything up, taking it all in with an eager expression and Eddie’s perfectly content to stay as long as the boy wants to.

“Eddie, did you know a mole’s snout is six times more sensitive to touch than a human hand?” Steve looks over to Eddie, his eyes fucking sparkling.

“I…did not,” Eddie admits. “That’s pretty cool.”

Steve offers up factoid after factoid, and they make their way around the room. Occasionally, Steve’s hand finds Eddie’s sleeve to tow him over to something he’s found particularly interesting, or he squeezes Eddie’s wrist as he reads.

Until, somewhere between the Mammals of the African Plains and the South American Mammals, Steve’s hand slips into Eddie’s.

Eddie’s not even sure Steve notices right away – he keeps reading a blurb about waterbucks, expression unchanging even while Eddie’s heart is pounding in his chest. He briefly thinks the fact Steve had given him about the mole’s snout was bullshit because his hand is practically tingling in Steve’s warm grip.

But Steve doesn’t let go, even as he wanders on to the taxidermied impala, clasped hands swinging between the two of them.

Eventually, when Steve’s satisfied he’s read every information board in the large room, they reach the end of the exhibit. Eddie’s been dreading this ever since Steve took his hand, because surely he’ll realize now, he’ll drop his hand and mumble an apology and Eddie will have to tell him it’s ok, have to pretend that his stomach hasn’t been doing somersaults for the last fifteen minutes.

Steve glances down, and Eddie mentally prepares himself to loosen his grip.

Steve squeezes his hand. Looks back up at Eddie, smiles.

“Is there anything here you want to see?” he asks, and he’s so sincere that Eddie lets go of the breath he’s been holding with a rush.

“Um…the dinosaur stuff?” Eddie says quickly, because he’s not ready to leave, not ready to burst this little bubble that’s formed around them and re-enter the real world.

Steve nods. “Follow me.”

And by the time they’ve wandered around the dinosaur exhibit, by the time Steve’s made Eddie point out his favourite dinosaur and tell him everything about it (Eddie doesn’t remember that much about velociraptors but he tries, and Steve takes it all in with a smile), by the time they’re heading back out to the parking lot, Steve’s hand is still in Eddie’s.

Chapter Text

It’s close to eleven pm when Eddie’s phone buzzes in his pocket, the drawn-out vibration signaling that this was a call and not just a message.

He shoves the armload of glasses he’s carrying to the dishwasher onto the bench and pulls out his phone, frowning down at Steve’s name on the display. The boy had been messaging him earlier in his shift, but Eddie had had to be careful to limit his replies to when his boss was looking the other way.

But Steve wouldn’t ring him at work unless it was important.

Eddie brought the phone up to his ear.

“Stevie?”

“E-Eddie, I…” Steve stutters his name, panic racing through Eddie at the shakiness in Steve’s voice.

“Steve? Are you ok?”

“Yes, well…no. Well I’m fine, but…” Steve’s cut off by a sob hitching in his throat.

Eddie’s boss catches his eye, stares daggers at him.

Eddie glares back at him.

“Take a deep breath, ok?” Eddie murmurs gently down the phone.

“Can’t – I…”

“Yes you can. Just take a minute, ok?”

“Don’t have a minute,” comes Steve’s snapped reply, frustration building.

Eddie closes his eyes for a moment, forces himself to take a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Steve, breathe,” he says, firmly now.

There’s a pause, and Eddie pictures Steve taking a shaky breath, his shoulders trembling, his eyes red-rimmed and swollen.

After a moment, Eddie continues. “Ok, now can you tell me what’s wrong?”

Silence from the other end. Eddie knows Steve’s probably trying to speak, his throat closing up and getting stuck around his words.

“Are you hurt?” Eddie guesses.

There’s a muffled sound from the phone, probably Steve shaking his head, his hair brushing over the speaker.

“Steve, I can’t see you, I need a yes or no.”

“No,” comes the quiet response.

“Ok, that’s good. Has something happened at the house?” Eddie’s making his way to the back of the bar, packing up his bag and shouldering it because fuck it, he’s going home to Steve.

“It’s Frodo,” Steve whispers.

“Frodo?” Eddie repeats, then he’s stepping around his boss, mouthing ‘emergency’ and jabbing his finger at his phone. His boss rolls his eyes, but reluctantly waves him towards the door. “Did he get out of the house?”

“No.”

Ok, well, at least he isn’t missing, Eddie supposes. He unlocks the van, throws his bag in the passenger seat.

“Is there something wrong with him?”

“Yes,” Steve chokes out, “he’s sick.”

“What’s wrong with him, Stevie?” Eddie turns the key in the ignition, balancing his cell on the dash and sticking it on speaker since his Bluetooth broke fucking years ago.

“He didn’t want his dinner and he’s throwing up and he’s really tired and he won’t play,” Steve says in a rush.

Eddie curses as he narrowly misses backing into another car in his haste to leave. “Did you ring a vet? There’s gotta be like an afterhours one around, right?”

“Yes but I couldn’t…couldn’t talk to them, I couldn’t get words out and they hung up on me.” Steve’s breathing increases again, and he’s this close to hyperventilating down the phone now. “He’s throwing up again. I…I was just gonna take him but what if I can’t even talk to them when I get there, and I was worried about driving -”

“It’s alright, I’ll be there soon,” Eddie reassures him, putting his foot down on the accelerator. There’s no way he wants Steve driving in his current state, and if he had a panic attack or completely shut down at the vet clinic…

“N-no, I didn’t mean for you to leave work, I just…”

“I’m already on my way back,” Eddie shushes him. “I’ll take you two to the vet, ok? You get him in his carrier while you’re waiting for me.”

“I’m sorry Eddie, I -”

“Hey, none of that, sweetheart.” The pet name slips out before Eddie even realizes what he’s said. “I’ll stay on the phone, and you get Frodo ready to go, and let me know once he is, ok?”

“Ok. I…I can do that.”

“’Course you can.”

There’s some shuffling from the other end, the sound of a cupboard opening, the metal clang of the carrier door.

“Eddie, are you still there?” comes Steve’s voice, and he sounds so fucking small.

Eddie grips the steering wheel harder. “Yeah Stevie, I’m here.”

“I got the carrier out.”

“That’s good. Is Frodo in?”

“He’s crying out when I try to pick him up.”

Eddie runs a hand over his face. He doesn’t know shit about cats, Frodo’s the first one he’s properly interacted with ever, but he thinks they can’t wait around right now.

“I think you’re just gonna have to get him in there, Steve.”

“I don’t…I don’t want to put him in the cage.”

“Well we’ve gotta take him in the car, so he has to -”

“He’ll be trapped in there though. And he’ll be scared, and he’s in pain, and I can’t…I can’t.” Steve’s voice is resolute, his mind made up, and Eddie frowns, thinks there’s something else there to unpack - but now is not the time.

“Will he sit on your knee in the car?” Eddie asks.

“Yes. He’s too tired to do anything else.”

“Ok. Wrap him up in a blanket or something, keep him warm.” Because warm is good, right? “And meet me out the front in…two minutes. And google the address for the vet, ok?”

“Ok but…don’t hang up?”

“I won’t, baby.”

Eddie’s not even sure why baby slipped from his lips as easily as sweetheart did, but Steve doesn’t seem to notice or just doesn’t mind as he narrates his every move to Eddie, telling him when he’s got the blanket, when he’s wrapped Frodo up in it, when he’s outside and locking the door behind him.

And then Eddie’s slamming to a halt outside, reaching over to throw open the passenger door. Steve runs to him, Frodo bundled up in his arms in the pink blanket from Eddie’s bed.

Frodo is…not looking good, Eddie thinks worriedly, the cat slumped in Steve’s lap, mouth slightly open as he pants for air.

But Steve looks like a wreck, glasses askew and tears streaming down his cheeks and face red and puffy. He’s in his blue pajama pants with a hoody thrown over the top, and Eddie can only imagine how uncomfortable that must be making him – Steve was fussy about which clothes he would wear inside and outside the house, and pajamas were a strict bedroom-only set of clothes.

“Hey, Steve?” Eddie says as he drives towards the address Steve had given him, “he’ll be ok, yeah? The vet’ll make him better, you’ll see.”

Steve doesn’t answer, only holds Frodo carefully and gently kisses the top of his head.

Eddie reaches across, hand finding Steve’s knee under the blanket and squeezing lightly. He keeps it there for the remainder of the tense drive, until they hurtle into the parking lot of the emergency vet.

They burst through the doors, beelining for the reception desk, Eddie stepping in front of Steve, prepared to do the talking for him.

“Hi, my friend’s cat is really sick, he needs a vet.”

“The owner’s name, please?” the lady at reception asks, glancing over her glasses at the three of them.

“Steve. Steve Harrington.” Eddie answers for him.

The lady types away into her computer. Steve sways side-to-side a little, murmuring quietly to Frodo. There’s a small dog yapping in the corner of the waiting room, high-pitched and constant, and the sharp, sickly smell of strong disinfectant wafts from the hallway.

“Cat’s name?”

“Frodo.”

“And how old is Frodo?”

A plastic chair scrapes back loudly, a mother scolding her kids in the corner, trying to balance a miserable-looking little dog on her lap.

“Jesus, does it matter?” Eddie snaps, throwing his hands up. “He’s sick, he needs a vet -”

“Answer the question please, sir,” the lady retorts, her tone bored and Eddie forces himself to rein in his temper.

Another dog has taken an interest in Frodo, straining at the end of its lead, the owner yelling at it and trying to wrestle it back.

Steve whispers something.

“Speak up, please,” the lady asks him.

Steve shuffles closer to Eddie. “He’s six,” he manages hoarsely, a little louder.

She taps at the keyboard for another moment. “And what are his symptoms?”

“He’s vomiting, he’s really tired, he cries when being picked up,” Eddie rattles off.

The lady nods. “And when did this start?”

Eddie looks to Steve again, needing him to answer this one.

But Steve’s looking down at his cat, unblinking, one hand squeezing the blanket tightly, and Eddie recognizes he’s about to shut down – there’s too much fucking noise in this place, too many people, too many sights and smells…

“Stevie, how long’s he been sick?” Eddie asks quietly, taking Steve by the shoulders gently. “Before dinner?”

Steve shakes his head.

“Ok, so after?”

A small nod.

Steve eats dinner at six every night – Eddie knows because he’d sent a picture of his miserable late night microwave dinner to the group chat one night a few weeks back, and Steve had been disgusted at the idea of eating dinner after eight and gone on a short rant about the best time for dinner. Robin had simply told him it looked like vomit on a plate.

“Was he sick before you sent me the picture of the cake?”

Steve had been baking near the start of Eddie’s shift, had sent him a picture of the chocolate cake he’d prepped. And that was around…eight pm, Eddie thinks.

Steve holds up his thumb and index finger, separating them by about half an inch.

Little bit.

“Around eight tonight it started. Or just before.” Eddie says to the lady, who’s watching Steve with an eyebrow raised.

“Right, take a seat please, the vet will see you soon.”

Eddie guides Steve by the elbow to the far corner of the room, shifting the plastic chairs so he can sit in front of Steve facing him, blocking Frodo’s view of the large dog still staring at him with interest.

Luckily, they didn’t have to wait long – although Eddie supposed that might’ve been a bad sign, a testament to just how sick Frodo was, because they were waved through into the examination room before the others who had arrived before them.

As soon as they were inside with the door closed behind them, Eddie felt a tiny bit of tension leak out of Steve at the blissful quiet.

“I’m Doctor Owens,” the vet says, laying a fresh towel out over the exam table and gesturing for Steve to place Frodo down. “Now, can you tell me about Frodo here?”

The man is calm, his voice quiet and kind, but Eddie’s still ready to do the talking, is about to open his mouth when Steve takes a deep breath and surprises him.

“He’s really sick,” Steve says, his voice quiet and shaky but there. “He keeps throwing up, he wouldn’t eat his dinner, his tummy seems sore and he’s been really tired.”

Dr Owens nods along, taking Frodo’s temperature and asking Steve several more questions. He seems to cotton on quickly that yes or no questions are easiest for Steve to answer and words his questions around that, much to Eddie’s relief.

Eddie stands back, hand running absently up and down Steve’s back while the vet works away. Steve gets a little worked up again when Dr Owens tells them he needs to take Frodo out the back for x-rays, but the vet is patient and Eddie reaches down to take Steve’s hand until finally he nods, gently patting Frodo once more before the cat is whisked away out the back.

And then came the waiting.

Dr Owens suspected some sort of internal blockage, and Frodo needed surgery there and then to resolve it.

The lady at the front desk had told them they could go home to wait, that they wouldn’t hear anything for a few hours anyway, but Steve had only paled further and shaken his head at that suggestion.

So Eddie sits with him through the night, watching as people come and go with their pets from the waiting room. Steve doesn’t say a word, just sits with his knee bouncing up and down, eyes fixed on the hallway, where he knows Frodo is behind one of those doors.

Although they don’t speak, Eddie holds his hand. Steve squeezes it every now and then, and Eddie squeezes back, a silent assurance that he’s there. Steve slumps into his chair a little in relief when the yappy dog is finally seen to, and Eddie could swear his ears ring in the wake of the little guy.

Finally, when Eddie’s phone is almost flat and the time’s crawling towards four a.m, Dr Owens calls them into the exam room again.

“How is he?” Steve says immediately, his tone demanding. Eddie rubs a hand over his shoulder.

“The surgery went well,” Dr Owens assures him. “And we removed…this from Frodo’s intestinal tract.” He holds up a little plastic bag, giving it a shake so the object inside falls to the front.

Eddie’s heart stops for a moment.

It’s his hair tie in there, the one he snapped in his haste to tie his hair up before the museum this morning. He’d tossed it onto the bedside table and forgotten about it, had thought nothing further of it…but Frodo must’ve tried to play with it, ended up swallowing it, and this…

This was all his fault.

Eddie feels Steve’s eyes on him. He swallows, the air leaving his lungs because he almost fucking killed Steve’s cat. Accidentally, yes, but still.

“It’s a pretty common culprit in cases of blockages,” Dr Owens continues, like the room isn’t caving down on top of Eddie. “So, might pay to be careful where you put the hair ties in future!”

“When can he come home?” Steve asks, his voice steady, and Eddie glances sidelong at him, can’t bear to let his gaze linger in fear of what he’ll find on Steve’s face.

“We’ll need to keep him in for a few more hours to observe him, we’ll give you a call around midday to come and pick him up.”

“I want to see him.”

“Well, he’s still waking up from his anesthetic, so we don’t usually let people back there when -”

“I want to see him,” Steve repeats stubbornly. “Just for a minute.”

Eddie’s still busy drowning in guilt, but warmth blazes through his veins now too – he’s fucking proud of Steve for speaking his mind.

Dr Owens nods eventually, sensing a losing battle, and waves Steve through the door.

“I’ll um…I’ll wait here,” Eddie croaks.

Steve shoots him a confused look, frowning, but follows Dr Owens out of the room.

Eddie stares at the bag the vet left on the exam table. His palms are sweaty, the collar of his t shirt too fucking tight around his neck, and his ears really are ringing now.

Maybe he can offer to pay for the surgery, he’s got no goddamn money to spare but he has to, he’ll work overtime shifts, he’ll talk to the clinic about paying the bill off in installments…he’s got to make up for this.

Steve returns after a moment, exhaustion riddling his face, and he wordlessly traipses out to Eddie’s van.

As soon as they’re inside with the engine running, Eddie turns to him.

“Steve, I’m so fucking sorry.”

Steve blinks at him a few times. “What?”

“The hair tie, it was mine.”

The boy’s frown deepens. “So?”

Oh god, it hasn’t even clicked for him yet, Eddie was going to have to explain…

“I left it in Robin’s room where Frodo could reach it. I didn’t even realize he’d touch it, but…I’m so sorry, and I’ll pay for the surgery, ok? I…I’ll get money, I don’t care how, and…”

Eddie trails off when Steve takes his hand, when he intertwines their fingers.

“Not your fault,” Steve murmurs.

Eddie looks down at their joined hands, at a loss for words for once.

“You didn’t know it would happen,” Steve continues, his tone soothing. Their usual roles are reversed, Eddie feeling small and vulnerable in the driver’s seat of his van, Steve reassuring him. “You didn’t make Frodo eat it. You didn’t cause it. Was an accident.”

And then, in case that isn’t enough, Steve leans across and kisses Eddie on the cheek.

They’re both tired, both in need of a change of clothes and something to eat and a long sleep, but nonetheless Eddie feels something stir inside him.

“Now can we go home?” Steve asks, offering a tiny smile. “Want to shower.”

Eddie forces himself to unfreeze, jerking the van into drive and putting the demister fan on high.

The feeling of Steve’s lips briefly pressed to his cheek lingers with him the entire way home.

Chapter Text

Eddie emerges from bed around lunchtime feeling slow and groggy, the lack of sleep from the night before weighing him down. But he’d wanted to be awake when the vet rings, when Steve is given the all-clear to go and collect Frodo.

Eddie shuffles into the lounge, rubbing at his eyes. Seve’s sitting cross-legged on the couch.

“Hi,” Eddie greets, slumping down next to him. “You get much sleep?”

Steve shakes his head. Eddie eyes him, takes in the shadows under his eyes, the fact that he’s wearing his usual jeans and a yellow polo, the way his eyes are blinking heavily…

“Did you…sleep at all?” Eddie asks worriedly.

“No.”

“How come?”

“Wrong time for sleeping,” Steve replies, like it’s obvious.

“There’s a wrong time?” Eddie frowns. He knows his own sleep schedule is way out of whack, but Steve has to be exhausted…

Steve nods. “Can’t sleep during the day. Too much…noise, light. And if I could, then I wouldn’t be able to sleep tonight. Would be…all out of sync.”

“And then your routine would be messed up,” Eddie realizes, slowly starting to understand that Steve faced more difficulties in his day-to-day life than he could currently grasp.

“Mmm hmm. You slept, though?”

“Yeah, like a fucking baby.”

Steve smiles at that, then checks the display on his phone. “It’s twelve. They said they’d call at midday.”

“Well, they said around midday,” Eddie points out gently.

“But what does that mean, is that…between twelve and one? Or can it be later than that?” Steve’s digging his nails into his palm repeatedly, and Eddie wants to reach over and prise his fingers apart just so that he doesn’t hurt himself, but he doesn’t want to agitate him further.

“Well…I’m not sure, really,” Eddie admits, “but let’s give them a little longer.”

Steve huffs in frustration. “Why can’t people just be more specific.”

“Let’s give them till twelve thirty, and if they haven’t called then we’ll call them, ok?”

“Twelve fifteen,” Steve argues.

“Alright, twelve fifteen then.”

Just as tense silence stretches the closer they get to twelve fifteen, just as Steve starts to fidget more and more, the receptionist at the vet calls and confirms Frodo is ready to be picked up.

Steve is out the door in moments, Eddie following behind him and taking the keys, offering to drive so that Steve could focus on holding Frodo for the drive back.

And on that drive back, Eddie has to force himself to keep his eyes on the road ahead.

Because Steve is right there, cradling a tired but comfortable-looking Frodo in his lap, with the biggest smile Eddie has seen from him yet plastered across his face.

“You’re ok,” Steve whispers to his cat, “we’re nearly home. And then you can sleep. And have your treats.”

Wednesday is one of Eddie’s nights off work, thank fuck, because despite having slept this morning he was still feeling pretty wrecked. He isn’t sure how Steve is still as functional as he is, how he still looks so damn good despite being that tired.

They set Frodo up in the lounge, placing his bed on the floor by the couch so he didn’t have to jump up, and tucking several blankets into it to make it warmer. Steve carefully brings his food and water bowls over, but Frodo’s more interested in taking a nap currently, oblivious to Steve watching him like a hawk.

“What if he tries to bite the stitches?” Steve asks Eddie anxiously.

“Well, then we’ve gotta put the cone on him, remember?”

“Right. Ok.” Steve’s still out of sorts, Eddie knows – last night had shaken him up, had pulled him out of his strict routines and even further out of his comfort zone. “And they said he should be eating by tonight, he has his dinner at six, so if he doesn’t eat, I need to call them again.”

“That’s right.”

“Ok. Should I try and get him to drink?”

“I think let him sleep for a bit, Stevie.”

Steve bites his lip, still kneeling down next to Frodo and watching him closely. Finally, he rocks back a little and nods. “Ok. Ok…yeah, sleep is good.”

Yes, Eddie thinks to himself. Sleep is great.

“You wanna watch a movie or something?” Eddie suggests, as casually as he can, because he’s got another agenda here – if Eddie can’t get Steve to sleep, he can at least get him to rest.

“On Wednesday’s I clean the bathroom…” Steve says quietly.

“Well, maybe we can do that tomorrow? And I can help you, so we’ll get it done quicker.”

“No, I…I always do it on Wednesdays.”

“If we’re in the lounge though, we can keep an eye on Frodo,” Eddie points out carefully. He’s not trying to upset Steve, and if he really wants to clean then Eddie won’t stop him, but the boy’s swaying on his feet slightly, his eyes heavy and dark from lack of sleep.

Eyes that now dart from Eddie to Frodo.

Eddie sees the moment he makes his decision, the slight slump in his shoulders, the small sigh that escapes him.

Steve nods, and Eddie moves on to phase two.

“Ok, so why don’t you go and put something comfortable on while I pick a movie?” When Steve immediately opens his mouth to argue, Eddie holds up a hand. “I promise no sci fi. Or horror, at least not today.”

Slowly, Steve pads out of the lounge in the direction of his room.

Eddie’s not entirely sure what constitutes comfortable clothes for Steve, but he has at least seen him in softer jeans and plain t shirts before, which was more casual than his current outfit that must have been picked for making the trip to the vet. Outside clothes, Steve had explained to him once.

Eddie browses through the movie options on the TV. There’s some Steve’s clearly marked as favourites, and those are the ones Eddie’s choosing between.

He’s settled on The Breakfast Club, because it’s old but pretty good, when Steve returns to the room.

To Eddie’s surprise, he’s in grey sweatpants and a white t shirt with a small hole in the sleeve.

He’s shifting from foot to foot when Eddie’s eyes roam him, over the t shirt pulled taut across his chest, over the tiny circle of skin above his bicep that the tear revealed.

“Um…I don’t usually…these are clothes that I normally only wear in my room,” Steve says quietly, shyly. “But you said comfortable, so…”

“Perfect, sweetheart,” Eddie murmurs, and Steve squirms at the words, cheeks flushing red and head tipping down.

Eddie wants to wrap his arms around him and envelop him.

“Can we…I need to put a blanket down. On the couch. So I keep these clothes clean,” Steve explains in fits and starts, holding up the pale yellow blanket he’s got in his hand.

To Eddie, the couch looks spotless, but he stands up and gestures to it anyway, guessing that today must be a couch day and not a floor day for Steve. “Sure thing.”

Steve places the blanket carefully over the couch, tucking it in at the back, and then stands there a little awkwardly.

“Um…where do you want to sit?” he asks, flapping a hand towards the couch.

Eddie takes one end, pats the other for Steve to sit down.

“Here,” he says, “and put your feet up on me if you want.” Eddie gestures down at his lap.

Steve’s eyes widen, just briefly. “You don’t mind?”

“Nope. Lay them on me, big boy.”

Steve smiles sheepishly, taking a seat and angling himself towards Eddie, carefully propping his white-socked feet up onto Eddie’s lap. He’s positioned himself so that he can reach down with one hand and pat Frodo, can monitor the cat closely.

Eddie hits play on the movie, and Steve’s eyes light up.

“I love this!”

Eddie chuckles. “I figured, that’s why I picked it.”

At first, Steve’s mouth moves along with the actors’, silently reciting some of the lines as they happen. But slowly, his eyes start to droop, and Eddie notices the way he keeps jerking himself upright, shaking his head a little, fighting off sleep.

“Stevie?” Eddie murmurs softly, “it’s ok, you know? If you fall asleep.”

Steve shakes his head. “I won’t sleep tonight if I do.”

“I think you will.” Eddie rubs a hand over the top of Steve’s foot, settles it on his ankle. “You’re really tired, I don’t think a short nap will make a difference.”

Steve still doesn’t look convinced, so Eddie continues.

“How about just for the rest of the movie? And then I’ll wake you up.”

Steve blinks heavily, lazily. “You promise?”

“Yes.”

“And you’ll watch Frodo?”

“With my life,” Eddie promises dramatically, pulling a tired laugh from Steve.

“Ok…I guess if it’s just a short nap.” Steve twists around, pulling his feet from Eddie’s lap, trying to get comfortable on his half of the couch.

“Come lean against me if you want,” Eddie says quickly, before he can claw the words back.

But Steve must like the sound of that idea, because he’s immediately pressing his back to Eddie’s chest, Eddie splaying his legs open to give him room to lean up against him.

And now, Eddie’s got a lapful of sleepy Steve, and his heart’s beating out of his chest.

The movie’s still playing in the background. Bender’s revealing the abuse he’s suffered from his father as one of Eddie’s arms entwines across Steve’s waist, his other hand coming up to settle in Steve’s hair. He scratches his nails lightly across his scalp, lets that auburn hair run between his fingers, as Steve lets out a soft noise against him.

“Go to sleep, sweetheart,” Eddie whispers to him.

And Steve listens.

*****

Eddie had wanted to let Steve sleep for the remainder of the afternoon, but he’d promised to wake him up, and the credits are now rolling.

Gently, he nudges the boy, rubs his knuckles lightly against his hip.

“Wake up, Stevie.”

Eddie watches as Steve drifts back to consciousness slowly, gently, snuffling awake and blinking up at Eddie, confusion briefly clouding his features before giving way to a soft smile.

“Hi.”

Eddie grins down at him. “Hi.”

There’s a heavy pause before Steve’s rolling off him, apologizing when Eddie grunts at his elbow briefly digging into his ribs, and then Steve’s on his knees beside Frodo’s bed where the cat’s still slumbering away.

“He’s been fine,” Eddie reassures him, “just sleeping.”

Steve pats Frodo carefully, avoiding the shaved and stitched area around his tummy.

“Steve?” Eddie asks, a little timidly.

He hums in acknowledgement, not looking up from his cat.

“I was wondering if…if you need any help with paying for his surgery?” Eddie had seen the invoice they’d handed Steve at the clinic, and it wasn’t a small amount written there. “I know you don’t…I know you don’t blame me for what happened, but I wanted to check because…well. If you need help, I’ll do what I can.”

Steve shakes his head. “No,” he says simply.

“You’re sure?” Eddie frowns slightly. Steve didn’t work outside of the Farmer’s Market, and half his earnings would be going back into buying his ingredients anyway, where was the money coming from? Not that it was really Eddie’s business to ask, but –

“Yes. I’ve got inheritance money.”

Oh.

So Steve had had some rich relative out there then, one that had died and left him a small fortune?

“Oh, well that’s…that’s good, I suppose,” Eddie says, a little awkwardly.

Steve shrugs, then stands. “I’m going to look for something to make for dinner. Is there anything you feel like?”

“No, just…whatever you like, Stevie. Need help?”

Steve shakes his head, and Eddie deflates a little.

Steve grins, tongue between his teeth. “Can come keep me company though.”

Eddie leaps off the couch with an unexpected burst of energy, following Steve out to the kitchen. While Steve’s got his head in the fridge, pondering their options, Eddie hoists himself up to sit on the bench, letting his feet swing idly back and forth.

Steve turns, and fixes him with a death glare.

“Bench is not for asses,” he says firmly.

Eddie shuffles forward, sliding down again and murmuring an apology. Steve grabs the spray bottle he keeps by the sink and wipes down the surface where Eddie had been, and Eddie can’t help but let out a small chuckle.

“We could have soup,” Steve suggests. “It’s vegetable soup. Wayne’s vegetables. I have some in the freezer.”

“Sounds good.”

Truth be told, there’s a lot of vegetables that Eddie doesn’t actually like, but if it’s something Steve has made then he’s sure it’ll be good.

Steve closes the freezer door and turns towards Eddie who is now seated on an actual stool.

“I was thinking…” Steve rocks on his heels, eyes downcast.

Eddie offers him a small smile and waits.

“Was thinking…maybe we could get Wayne over for dinner some time. If he wants to. If…if you think that’s a good idea.” Steve’s mumbling the words to the ground, but Eddie hears him.

“He’d love that! Is that something you’re comfortable with though, Stevie?” Eddie checks, because he knows it would be a lot for Steve to have someone who’s practically a stranger in his apartment, in his space.

After a moment, Steve nods. “Can you give me a list of his favourite meals and desserts? Want to make something he’ll like.”

“Sure.”

Turns out, Steve’s vegetable soup is fucking delicious, and Eddie has to stop himself from licking the bowl like a dog. They manage to coax Frodo into eating a couple of mouthfuls of his own food, and Eddie holds him while Steve carefully syringes pain meds into his mouth. Together, they carry him in his bed into Steve’s room to get him set up for the night.

It’s the first time Eddie’s been in Steve’s bedroom.

It’s small and tidy, the bed made pristinely, and Steve shakes his head sharply at Eddie when he goes to sit there. Eddie nods, leaning against the dresser instead, looking at the photos on the pinboard above the desk in the corner. They’re mostly of Steve and Robin, some with the kids and Frodo, and one tucked into the corner of a much younger, very serious-looking Steve with a blonde woman’s arm curled around his shoulder – his mother?

Steve’s finished getting Frodo situated next to his bed, and he’s eyeing Eddie, fidgeting with a loose thread on the hem of his t shirt.

“It’s…it’s earlier than I usually go to bed,” Steve blurts out.

“Maybe, but you were up all night,” Eddie points out.

Steve nods, but he’s still basically hovering there, socked toes clenching and unclenching as he rocks a little. Eddie knows he’s still trying to recover from the break in his routine last night, the flow-on effects still throwing him off kilter and causing him stress.

“Sorry. To go to bed early and leave you,” Steve says quietly.

“Don’t worry about me, I’m gonna go to bed too, I’m still beat,” Eddie assures him.

Steve nods again. “Ok…ok. Um, goodnight, then.”

“Night, Stevie.”

Chapter Text

“I’m gonna go and visit Wayne while you’re talking to Will,” Eddie says, as he and Steve are walking towards Chrissy’s café the following afternoon. “So that you guys have some privacy, and I need to check up on the old man anyway.”

Steve nods, pausing at the pedestrian crossing that’ll lead them to the park, clearly wanting to stop by his squirrels first.

“You’ll come for a bit first though?” he asks. “Have…coffee, or something?”

“Sure. Will won’t mind?”

“No. He’s shy, but he likes the same stuff you do. The Dungeon game, and stuff.”

They head to the park bench, Steve scanning the grass for his little friends. Sure enough, several squirrels start to bound towards them, pausing a few feet away and sitting up on their back feet to wait.

Steve tosses them a few almonds and watches while they eat.

“I’m not sure what to tell Will. About…about his autism assessment.” Steve’s attention is fixed on the squirrels, but his voice wavers slightly.

Eddie remembers how this seemed to be a difficult subject for Steve the last time it was brought up, and tries to navigate it carefully. “How long ago were you diagnosed?”

“I was ten.”

Eddie nods, bringing a foot up to rest on his opposite knee as he perches on the bench. Steve stays standing, still avoiding eye contact.

“Do you remember much from it?” Eddie queries.

“I was scared,” Steve admits, “my mom had taken me to the doctor a while before it, said there was something wrong with me, even though I felt fine. I knew I was…different. But I thought that was just me. Just who I was. But that wasn’t…good enough for mom. Or dad.”

Eddie clenches his jaw at the tightness in Steve’s voice.

“The doctor got me to come back for an autism assessment later, I remember mom being mad, she thought it must be something physical wrong with me. She wanted me to do the assessment to prove it wasn’t autism, told me I had to be…normal during the appointment. I didn’t really know what she meant, but I tried…the doctor asked me all these questions, half of them didn’t make sense, I got upset, I didn’t…I didn’t understand what was happening, I thought it was some kind of test I could fail and if I did fail then mom…” Steve’s voice hitches a little, and he pauses.

Eddie stands, goes to him. Holds his hand out in a silent request, and Steve takes it.

Once Steve’s regained his composure, he continues. “She was angry. When the doctor confirmed it was autism. She was furious, told me I wasn’t allowed to tell anyone. That I had to act normal. At school, and at home. She and dad would yell at me for fidgeting. When I couldn’t sit still. When I couldn’t talk sometimes, dad would…yeah.”

Anger swirls in Eddie’s gut as Steve talks. He looks at the sweet boy feeding the squirrels, the boy that had held his hand and led him around the museum, the boy that baked sweet treats and blushed at compliments and cried when his cat was sick…

Eddie doesn’t understand how anyone could treat him like that, especially Steve’s own parents.

“I’m sorry,” Eddie murmurs, “that it was like that for you.”

“Wasn’t their fault,” Steve mumbles. “I was supposed to be normal. Was supposed to take over dad’s business. But I couldn’t even speak when dad had his colleagues over for dinner. Couldn’t pass some of my classes at school because the teachers moved too fast. They were…disappointed. My fault.”

“Baby, no.” Eddie lets go of his hand, instead settling on Steve’s shoulder, rubbing over the back of it. “It’s not your fault, none of it. They couldn’t see what was in front of them, what they had.”

“I wasn’t a good son,” Steve whispers, “not for them.”

“They should’ve looked after you,” Eddie tells him firmly. “They should’ve helped you. And so what if you couldn’t take over your dad’s business? Was that really what you wanted to do with your life anyway?”

That gave Steve pause for a moment, before he shook his head.

“No,” Eddie echoes. “Instead, you’re doing what you love, right?”

A tiny smile pulls at Steve’s lips, and he nods.

“Right. Well, fuck them,” Eddie spits out.

“Eddie!” Steve berates him, glancing over at a couple walking not far from them.

“No, honestly, fuck them!” Eddie repeats, louder now. “Fuck your parents, Stevie, you’re far better than them.”

“Don’t…don’t say that,” Steve whispers, grabbing for Eddie’s sleeve and tugging it, forcing Eddie closer to him.

Eddie goes to say it again, to yell it this time, but Steve’s slamming a hand across his mouth, laughing as Eddie goes pliant in his grip and finally removing his hand from his lips.

Suddenly, they’re face-to-face, only inches between them. Steve’s nose is slightly pink in the cool air, his eyelashes long as he blinks slowly at Eddie.

“Stevie…” Eddie breathes, wanting nothing more than to close that final gap between them, but he doesn’t want to startle him, doesn’t want to ruin…whatever it is they have.

In the end, it’s Steve that leans in. That answers the unspoken question hanging between them.

He presses his lips to Eddie’s, just briefly, his mouth soft and warm and fucking perfect.

The sun is warm on Eddie’s neck despite the crisp air, but it’s nothing compared to the heat that flushes through him at Steve’s touch. The boy’s hand is on Eddie’s hip, just holding, fingers curling into the fabric of the hoody Eddie’s wearing, Steve’s hoody.

Steve’s mouth pulls away, just slightly, and he tips his forehead against Eddie’s. He stays, swaying just a little on the spot, Eddie moving with him.

Eddie chuckles softly, unable to contain the joy he’s feeling.

Steve’s eyes flick to Eddie’s, and he pulls back a little, cheeks reddening.

“Sorry,” he says quickly, “was that…was that ok?”

Eddie smiles, slow and languid.

He’s so fucking happy.

“Yeah, Stevie. Yeah, that was…more than ok.”

Steve’s answering smile is brighter than the afternoon sun.

*****

After lingering at the park for as long as they could, Steve and Eddie end up having to rush to Chrissie’s Café to meet Joyce and Will on time. Eddie slurps down a coffee, feeling jittery and like he’s still in a headrush, the ghost of Steve’s lips still on his as he does his best to make polite conversation with the woman and her shy son.

Steve’s the calm one for once, placing a hand on top of Eddie’s under the table, patting it gently and listening as Will tells them about his current project for art class.

When the conversation starts to turn to the inevitable and Will clams up a little at the mention of his upcoming appointment, Eddie takes his leave. Steve nods, tells him he’ll be back at the apartment by dinner time, and he wiggles his fingers a little as Eddie turns back one more time at the door just to look at him.

Eddie really needs to see Wayne.

He’s thrumming with nervous energy during the drive back home, wringing a hand against the steering wheel. He’s happy, no – he’s elated by what happened in the park – but he’s a little anxious all the same. What if he isn’t what Steve needs, what if he’s too lazy, too disconnected from any sort of routine, not ambitious enough, too loud, too…chaotic? Steve is so good, he’s sweet and kind and sensitive and clever, and he deserves only the best.

….could Eddie be that for him?

He’s not entirely sure. But he’s determined to try.

Wayne’ll be awake after his night shift by now. Eddie’s already decided he’s calling in sick for his own shift tonight, because it’s his last night at the apartment and he’s not wasting it slamming drinks on tables for ungrateful patrons and pitiful tips.

He parks the van in its usual spot and takes a moment just to breathe.

Steve’s hoody envelops him, smells like him, and it calms Eddie down just enough to exit the van and slip through the gate, climbing the rickety stairs around the back to the door. Their apartment is tiny and ancient, but what it lacked in…everything else, it made up for with the backyard. Eddie looks over it now – the rows of planter boxes filled with berries, with tomato plants, with cucumbers, carrots, herbs, dwarf fruit trees and more. Grape vines and blackberries climbed up a trellis beside the gate, and larger trees line the back fence – oranges, apples, pears, apricots, peaches, plums…you name it, it was probably there, all lovingly tended by Wayne.

Wayne looks up from the couch when Eddie steps inside, then lightly tosses the magazine he was reading onto the coffee table. “You’re back early. Wasn’t expecting you till tomorrow night.”

“Just thought I’d come visit. You know, check you’re still alive and all,” Eddie quips.

Wayne raises his eyebrows. “Charming.”

Eddie sits in the ancient armchair opposite his uncle. He’d been aiming for calm, for slightly aloof, but his knee’s jittering again and he’s twisting a ring around his finger and Wayne reads him like a goddamn book.

His uncle sighs. “What’s the matter, son?”

“It’s not…it’s not anything wrong, really,” Eddie starts, then shakes his head. “I don’t know what to, um…”

“Somethin’ to do with Steve?” Wayne guesses immediately.

Eddie frowns, because he really didn’t think Wayne would get it that quickly…

Wayne chuckles at Eddie’s expression. “Hit the nail on the head, did I?”

“I’m in love with him,” Eddie blurts. “I think…I think I’m in love with him.”

Eddie’s not even sure where those words came from, really, but he realizes as he says them that it’s true. It’s only been a few weeks, but Steve’s wormed his way into Eddie’s life, into his heart, and settled there like it’s where he’s always meant to have been.

Wayne blinks at him, then wordlessly stands up and makes his way over to the tiny kitchenette, sitting the kettle on the stovetop to boil.

“This kinda conversation calls for coffee,” he says simply. “You want one?”

Eddie opts for decaf, seeing as he’s just had coffee at the café, and doesn’t need any more caffeine adding to the energy zipping through his veins. Wayne makes it quietly, setting the warm Garfield mug into Eddie’s hands and then settling back into the couch.

He motions for Eddie to talk. “Go on, Eds.”

Eddie tells him. About Steve, about the last few days, about Steve’s roster on the fridge, his routines and rituals, about the meals he makes for him and Eddie with so much care, about the museum and his favourite movies, about the kids he’s befriended, about Frodo and their stressful night on Tuesday, about their kiss in the park.

He’s not embarrassed to tell him, not really. There’s not a lot he hasn’t shared with Wayne in his life, ever since Wayne sat him down after walking in on a teenage Eddie watching some…not-so-straight porn on his phone once. They’d had a conversation then, in which Wayne promised Eddie he didn’t care about who he was attracted to, that he wouldn’t judge Eddie about anything he wanted to talk to him about.

When he’s finished, Eddie sits back in his chair and finally takes a sip of his drink.

Wayne’s quiet for a moment before he says, “You know, I’d kinda already guessed how you felt about him from the way you’d talk about him in your texts.”

Eddie quirked his head in acknowledgement – it was true, most of his texts to his uncle these days were about Steve.

“Steve this, Steve that,” Wayne chuckled, “not to mention the way you’d make moony eyes at him at the market till I give up and tell you to just go over there.”

“Don’t say moony eyes, it makes you sound old as fuck,” Eddie cringes, but he’s laughing into his coffee.

“So, when are we getting your boy ‘round for dinner then? That something he’d be ok with?”

“Well, actually…” Eddie sits his mug down on the coffee table. There’s no coasters like there is at Steve and Robin’s place, the table’s littered with old rings from cups, and neither Eddie or Wayne gave a crap. “Steve wanted to have you over for dinner, at his place. He’ll be more comfortable there, where everything’s familiar. Maybe…maybe eventually, he could come here, but I think we should start with that.”

“Fine by me,” Wayne says with a shrug.

“He’s a really good cook, so count yourself lucky,” Eddie tells him. “In fact, he’s into a lot of…domestic stuff. He had me cleaning the bathroom with him earlier today, you believe that? And the other day I vacuumed.”

Wayne shakes his head in disbelief, barking out a laugh. After a moment, he eyes his nephew again, more seriously. “So this…thing you’ve got goin’ on with Steve, it all sounds good, but I’m sensing you’re still worried about something. That true?”

And this, this is the hard part for Eddie. He fiddles with his mug for a moment, turning it idly on the table, then sighs.

“He’s really great, Wayne. Like…he’s smart, he knows all this stuff about animals and science and shit, and he’s kind and he’s…he’s sensitive, and I don’t know that I’m…right for him.”

Wayne tilts his head. “How so?”

“Well…I dunno that I’m…you know. He’s him, and I’m…me.”

Wayne frowns. “Gonna need more than that, son.”

“I don’t think I’m…” Eddie lowers his voice, embarrassed by what he’s about to say. “…good enough for him.”

“Now that’s a damn lie,” Wayne starts immediately, putting his own mug down a little too hard onto the table. “Anyone’d be lucky to have you, Eds.”

Eddie scoffs, avoiding his uncle’s eye.

“No, it’s the truth,” Wayne insists firmly. “You’re a good person, Eds. You’re clever, you’re creative, you make me laugh every damn day – you might drive me insane sometimes, granted, but that don’t matter – you’ve had a tough time of things since you were young, but you never gave up. And maybe I don’t tell you enough, but I love you more than anythin’ else on the planet. So don’t you sit here and tell me you ain’t good enough. I’ve seen the way you look at that boy, and I’ve also seen the way he smiles at you like the sun shines outta your ass or something. He’s lucky to have you, Eds.”

Eddie can’t help the tears that well up just slightly in his eyes. He blames it a little on still being tired, at the waves of emotion he’s been riding since that moment in the park, but he’s not fooling either of them.

Wayne motions him over. Eddie lurches to the couch, slumping down onto the sagging cushion next to his uncle, and leans into his familiar side. Wayne tosses an arm easily across his shoulders, and grabs for the remote.

“Now you got enough time in your schedule for your uncle these days? We can watch a movie before you go back to lover boy, if you like.”

Eddie nods, feeling ten years younger than he is with Wayne’s arm around him.

“Good. I’ve missed ya, Eds.”

“Missed you too, Wayne.”

Chapter Text

Steve’s in the kitchen when Eddie returns to the apartment, already working on dinner, and he greets Eddie with a smile as he steps inside. Frodo meows from his bed, and Eddie gives him a careful pat before turning back to the kitchen.

“Hey, Stevie,” Eddie grins at him, but lingers in the doorway, a little unsure how to proceed – can he kiss Steve in greeting? Hug him? Or are they just…going back to how they were before, before the afternoon in the park, before Steve’s mouth on Eddie’s?

Steve pauses where he’s stirring something in a pan, clearly feeling a similar sort of awkwardness in the air.

In the end, Eddie asks how his time with Will went, just to break the tension.

“It was good,” Steve answers, returning to flicking vegetables around in the pan. “He’s still nervous but I told him how the test works. Or, how it used to work anyway. Don’t know if it’s still the same. How was Wayne?”

Eddie shrugs. “Just the same as ever. He’s looking forward to coming over for dinner. Next Wednesday, maybe? Neither of us work that night.”

Steve nods, padding over to the fridge and writing it onto his calendar. As he walks back towards the oven he stops in front of Eddie, rocking back and forth on his heels a little.

“I don’t…um,” Steve mumbles, then goes quiet again.

Eddie tilts his head. “You ok, sweetheart?”

Steve nods, but doesn’t open his mouth to speak again.

“You want any help with dinner?” Eddie prompts, and Steve nods again, taking him by the sleeve and guiding him over to the oven, placing the spatula in Eddie’s hand, clearly wanting him to keep stirring while he starts mixing a sauce off to one side.

The silence is hanging thick between them now – whatever had made Steve clam up is lingering. Eddie pauses his stirring for a moment to fiddle with Steve’s Bluetooth speaker on the windowsill, making sure he receives an approving nod from Steve before turning it on and letting the music quietly drain the tension from the room.

Steve relaxes a little, swaying slightly in time to Tears for Fears, and he steps close to Eddie again to tip his bowl of sauce into the pan with a hiss of steam.

“Sorry,” he murmurs eventually.

“Hey, don’t be.” Eddie runs his free hand down Steve’s arm, caressing slowly over warm skin, tracing an invisible line between the moles on his wrist.

“Was it…ok? What I did at the park?” Steve asks quietly, shyly.

“Yes,” Eddie says quickly, “shit yes, Stevie, you don’t know how long I’ve been waiting for that.”

Steve’s eyes meet his, dancing in the soft orange of the light overhead. “Why’d you wait?”

“Well I wasn’t sure if…I didn’t want to, you know, frighten you or something. Come on too strong.” Eddie gestures with the spatula, cringing as a small drop of sauce flicks from it onto the bench.

A small huff escapes from Steve. “I’m not a kid.”

“No,” Eddie agrees, squeezing Steve’s hand. “No, baby, you’re not. I didn’t mean it like that. I just…I didn’t know if you wanted that. If you wanted me. In that way.”

“Please don’t treat me like…like a kid.” Steve says firmly, eyes focused somewhere over Eddie’s shoulder. “I like you. Know what I want. I want you.”

“So in that case…” Eddie smiles, small and soft, and reaches over to gently cup Steve’s cheek, to tip his head towards him. “You won’t mind if I do this?” He leans in, slowly, giving Steve every chance to back out.

He doesn’t.

He meets Eddie halfway, mouth on his, letting Eddie move him as he saw fit. Eddie can’t get over how soft Steve’s mouth is, his lips the opposite of Eddie’s chapped and rough ones. Not that Steve seems to mind – a soft noise escapes him and he pushes himself closer to Eddie, mouth opening slightly, large hand splayed across the middle of Eddie’s back.

A splatter of boiling hot sauce lands on Eddie’s arm, causing him to yelp in surprise and pull away. Steve laughs, reaching over to grab the bubbling pan by the handle and expertly swirl the contents around, redistributing the heat again.

“Your fault,” he tells Eddie with a grin, “you stopped stirring.”

“Oh, sorry, I was a little distracted,” Eddie smirks at him, “I was only kissing the most attractive man on the damn planet.”

Steve’s cheeks flush with colour in that way Eddie’s grown to love, and his nose crinkles at the praise. He snatches the spatula from Eddie’s hand and gives the simmering mixture a good stir, before turning the heat down a little.

Intertwining his hand with Eddie’s, he looks up at him through long eyelashes.

“So…where were we?”

Eddie smiles, and kisses him again.

*****

It’s later that evening, and they’re still kissing. On the couch now, with something playing idly on the TV in the background. But Eddie’s full focus is on Steve’s mouth, on the broad chest that’s pressed up against his, on the feel of Steve’s hips under his hands.

Eddie thinks they should never not be kissing, wonders why it took them this long to get to this stage.

Steve pulls away eventually, just enough to lay his head below Eddie’s chin.

“I should bake,” he mumbles, sounding a little mournful. “A lot to do before the weekend.”

“I could help?” Eddie offers.

Steve sighs. “Wanna stay here instead.”

Eddie chuckles into Steve’s hair, adjusting his hold on the boy. “Well, we can do that instead then. And I’ll help you tomorrow, how’s that?”

Steve stiffens for a moment, clearly debating the change in his routine, but relaxes eventually, nodding into Eddie’s chest.

“I don’t want you to leave tomorrow,” Steve whispers.

Eddie’s heart clenches, and he kisses the top of Steve’s head. “But you’ll get Robin back, you’re excited to see her, right?”

Steve nods.

“I know what you mean though, I don’t really want to go home either.”

But visiting Wayne earlier had reminded him of his uncle all alone in that shitty little apartment, and Eddie did feel a little bad about leaving him on his own all this week.

Steve’s face twitches as he chews thoughtfully at the inside of his mouth.

“When Wayne comes for dinner, I want to ask him something. About…if he wants to work with me and Robin. Like…we work together, I mean. With his produce and my baking.”

Eddie ponders that for a moment. “Like a collaboration?”

Steve nods, then shoves his face further into Eddie’s collar. “Is that stupid? Sorry.”

“No, no, sweetheart, I think it’s a great idea.” Eddie cups the back of Steve’s head as the boy squirms a little, and then Steve’s rolling over and looking up at Eddie excitedly.

“I thought…we could rent a bigger plot at the market, well – Robin can, she does all that – and then we can have our stalls side by side, and I can keep using all of Wayne’s produce for the baking, and then people can buy it directly from him too, and maybe we can even have recipes to hand out for people to try, and we could do specials like a free cookie with every carton of berries sold, or something like that.”

Steve’s talking a mile a minute, and clearly he’s been thinking about this for a while now. He’s got one hand entangled in Eddie’s shirt, squeezing it as he talks, glasses slightly askew on his face and Eddie loves him.

“…and we can make signs explaining where all the fruit and stuff comes from for the baking in case we’re too busy to tell everyone. Will’s really good at drawing, so sometimes I get him to help with the signs too.”

“Stevie, this is…this is a really cool idea. I think Wayne’ll love it.”

Steve nods again, enthusiastically, his mussed hair bouncing with the motion. “His produce is the best I’ve ever worked with, it’s so much better than anything at the grocery store or anything I tried to grow, seriously Robin’ll tell you about the time I tried to grow carrots and all I got was really tall greens and carrots about this long.” Steve holds up two fingers about an inch apart, and Eddie laughs, running a hand down Steve’s back and stopping just below the small of it. “He deserves more customers,” Steve finishes, more quietly now.

“You know, we used to get a lot of them. Customers,” Eddie tells him. “I mean, we were never as busy as your stall, but we certainly made enough money to get by. My mom…she’d come to the market with us, when I was a kid. Wayne would bring his produce, and she’d bring flowers from the garden. And mom could charm anyone into buying anything, she…” Eddie pauses, chuckles softly. Steve watches him, eyes wide and round. “…she was really something, my mom.”

Steve brushes a thumb over Eddie’s cheek, collecting a tear Eddie hadn’t even realized had fallen.

“Is she…?” Steve whispers.

Eddie nods. “Yeah. She died. Long time ago now.”

Something passes over Steve’s face, something sad and knowing. “Mine too.”

Eddie links their fingers, bringing their joined hands up in front of his face. “I’m sorry about your mom.”

“Me too. For yours.”

They’re quiet for a moment, Eddie picturing his mom with her long dark hair and white sunhat, laughing as she handed out bunches of flowers, a kaleidoscope of colours cradled in her hands – petals of yellow and orange, red and blue, lilac and pink, wrapped in tissue paper and tied with golden ribbon.

Eddie thinks she would’ve loved Steve.

The boy’s sunshine incarnate, after all.

“I can check in with Wayne first, if you like, run the idea past him. So that you don’t have to do all the talking when he’s here for dinner,” Eddie offers.

“Thank you,” Steve murmurs.

Somewhere along the line, with Steve’s fingertips tracing curiously over the lines of the tattoos on his forearms, Eddie falls asleep. He’s woken eventually by Steve shifting, apologizing softly as he jostles Eddie.

“It’s bedtime,” Steve explains quietly.

Eddie tightens his grip on the boy, snaking his arms around his hips. “A little longer,” Eddie grumbles.

Steve laughs, leaning forward to kiss him chastely. “Ten minutes.”

*****

Eddie likes Robin, he really does. She’s a whirlwind of a human, she’s funny, she’s confident, she’s fiercely protective of Steve, and she’s become a good friend.

But right now, he’s savouring these last few moments with Steve before she returns, because then it’ll be time for Eddie to clear out and relinquish her bedroom back to her.

He could crash on the couch, he supposes. Steve would let him. But the couch is small, and it’s about time Eddie went home and spent at least a bit of time with Wayne. He’ll be with Steve all weekend, anyway.

But still…he’s gonna miss this like crazy.

Watching Steve in his element, baking slice after slice, cakes and pies and crumbles and cookies and so much more. Every now and then, Steve would grab a clean spoon and hold it out for Eddie to taste something – whiskey caramel, a berry compote, chocolate sauce – and Eddie would moan exaggeratedly each time, reveling in the flush it brought to Steve’s cheeks.

Finally, as late afternoon approaches, they’re finished. Eddie helps Steve pack everything away into containers and the fridge, lifting some items from earlier in the week out of the freezer to defrost.

They share a slice of chocolate cake, Queen playing quietly as a backdrop. Eddie can’t pull his eyes away from Steve, blindly stabbing his fork into the cake, apologizing as Steve winces at the metal scraping over the plate.

“You like it?” Steve asks, gesturing with his fork to the rest of the cake.

“It’s fucking good,” Eddie says through a mouthful. “Seriously, how do you make it this good?”

Steve smiles, small and sheepish, and shrugs, returning to his cake.

Eddie swallows his mouthful, places two fingers under Steve’s chin, and pulls him into a kiss. He tastes like chocolate, rich and smooth, and Eddie all but licks it from his mouth until Steve’s laughing and screwing up his nose, shoving Eddie back a little.

There’s a thump from behind them.

Steve’s cheeks redden somehow even further, and Eddie turns to follow his gaze.

Robin’s standing there, her bag dropped on the floor beside her, and she’s staring at them with slight disbelief.

“…think it’s time you caught me up,” she says, her initial shock giving way to a bemused smile as she makes her way towards the table, snatching the plate with the remaining cake from in front of Steve.

Plonking herself into the third chair, she looks at them both expectedly.

She gestures between the two of them with Steve’s fork.

“One of you dinguses better start talking.”

Chapter Text

Eddie makes them all coffee, and Steve talks.

By the sounds of it, Steve had been messaging Robin during the week about Eddie, a fact that made Eddie’s stomach do a stupid flip as he takes a sip from his mug. But he hadn’t told her everything yet, hadn’t told her about their kiss in the park or anything that followed.

Robin listens, not touching her own drink until Steve finally trails off.

“So…you like him,” Robin sums up, jerking her head towards Eddie.

Steve nods.

“You really like him,” Robin repeats.

Steve nods again.

“Ok.” Robin sits with that confession for a moment, then she reaches for Eddie, taking him by the wrist. “Munson, with me.”

When Steve starts to stand to come with them, Robin snaps her fingers at him and points firmly to his chair.

Steve sits back down.

Eddie goes.

He follows Robin to her bedroom, perching nervously on the end of her bed as she quietly closes the door behind her and fixes him with a stern look.

“He’s my best friend,” Robin states, matter-of-fact.

“I know,” Eddie replies, and swallows thickly, because Robin’s intimidating like this.

“He’s my best friend in the world, and more than that, he’s the best person I know. And he’s been hurt before, by people who just want him because of how he looks, or because they think they can control him, they treat him like a child and -”

“I wouldn’t -” Eddie interrupts, but Robin raises a hand, silencing him.

“I know. Let me finish.”

Eddie nods.

“He’s been through a lot of shit. And I think maybe he’d given up on finding someone that was…right for him. But you…” Robin’s face relaxes a little, some of the tension leeching out. “…you make him happy. He talks about you all the time. And you seem to understand him better than most people do. Or you try to, and that’s the main thing.”

“I do really like him, Robs,” Eddie tells her quietly, earnestly.

Robin nods, once. “I believe you. And I think you’re good for him. But I need you to know, that if you ever hurt him…”

Robin holds out one hand, miming squeezing something, and makes a scissoring motion with her other hand.

Eddie crosses his legs, suddenly protective of his junk.

“We clear?” Robin checks.

“Uh huh. Crystal.”

She smiles, but there’s still a hint of something dangerous there.

“Good. More cake?”

Eddie follows her back out to the table, where Steve’s waiting, looking a little nervous.

Eddie gives him a sheepish smile, then settles back into his seat.

He’ll never cross Robin Buckley for as long as he lives.

*****

The weekend passes by in a flash. Eddie was sad to leave Steve and Robin’s place, but it was nice to see Wayne again in the evenings before work, and then he had all weekend at the market with his friends anyway.

As usual, the baking stall sells out on both days. Wayne’s produce sells a little better, now that he’s got Steve and Robin directing people towards his stall, and Eddie knows it’ll only improve once they start officially collaborating.

Eddie had brought that subject up with Wayne, and he’d been more than agreeable. Anything to get them some more sales, he’d said, and he was happy about having a permanent spot next to Steve and Robin since Eddie was “spending all his damn time there.”

Now, Eddie’s standing in front of his closet, frowning into it.

It’s Wednesday, and he and Wayne need to be at Steve’s place soon for dinner.

Eddie’s tossing up between a few options. He has a black button up, but is that too formal? Should he just stick to a t shirt? Either way he’ll have on his black jeans, but the shirt would make the outfit a lot dressier than the t shirt would.

What would Steve be wearing? A polo and jeans? Probably, Eddie figures, but everything would be freshly ironed, the collar crisp, the polo tucked into the jeans that hug his ass just so…

He’s getting distracted.

Eddie stares at the two options laid out on his bed, tilting his head as he considers.

“You ready or what?” Wayne appears in the doorway, shaking his head at his nephew.

Eddie turns to him, then throws up his hands. “You can’t wear that,” he splutters.

“What?” Wayne looks down at himself, at the old flannel he’s donned.

“Your shirt’s got holes in the sleeve!” Eddie flaps a hand at the offending sleeve.

Wayne rolls his eyes, turning to head back to his room to change. “Didn’t know this was Next Top Model,” he mutters as he leaves.

Eddie selects the button up shirt, in the end. If he’s overdressed, well, it doesn’t matter. This is important to him, he wants to impress Steve.

“Ok old man, let’s go!”

*****

Steve’s nervous.

Eddie can tell the moment he answers the door, peering around it, eyes darting to Wayne and then lowering to the floor.

“Hey, Stevie,” Eddie says quickly, stepping forward and squeezing his hand in greeting.

Steve smiles, and steps back to allow him through.

“Hi Steve.” Wayne toes his shoes off at the door, like Eddie had told him to do – he didn’t own a pair that weren’t covered in dirt from gardening, and Steve would not like that getting on his carpet. “Thanks for the invite, appreciate it.”

Steve nods, eyes still downcast, cheeks red.

This is hard for him, Eddie knows. But he also knows that Steve will find his voice soon, he just needs to adjust to having Wayne there.

Wayne, for his part, doesn’t let Steve’s silence bother him. Eddie had explained this to him, had told Wayne that Steve might find talking difficult at first, but to just be patient with him.

Wayne had reminded him that Eddie himself had spent the better part of a year in near-silence after his mom had died – he knew how to deal with someone struggling to talk.

They follow Steve inside. Robin’s sitting on one of the stools by the little kitchen island with Frodo in her lap. She waves at Eddie, then smiles up at Wayne.

“Hi, Mr Munson.”

“Wayne’s fine,” Wayne tells her.

The two of them make conversation while Eddie joins Steve in the kitchen. The room is warm, the delicious smell of the chicken pot pie Steve’s cooking wafting from the oven. Eddie had told him it was one of Wayne’s favourites, harkening back to his southern roots – but it had been a long time since they’d had it, since neither Eddie or Wayne were particularly gifted in the cooking department.

“You look nice,” he whispers to the boy, and Steve smiles again, ducking his head as he starts pulling out plates from a cupboard.

Steve’s in his usual Levi’s but with a buttery-yellow shirt in a silky fabric, and Eddie’s glad for his own button-up now.

Steve nudges his hip against Eddie’s, reaching up to brush a hand over the back of Eddie’s shirt, fingers toying with the fabric briefly he lowers his hand again.

“S’nice,” he whispers to Eddie.

“Thanks, sweetheart. Can I help?”

Steve nods, gesturing to the cutlery drawer.

Wordlessly, Eddie starts gathering knives and forks and carrying them over to the table, setting out the places. Robin’s telling Wayne all about Frodo, the man blinking as she talks rapidly, nodding along as best he can.

Eddie smirks briefly, and returns to the kitchen.

Steve opens the fridge and points to the beers at the back of a shelf, nodding his head towards Wayne in question. Understanding, Eddie grabs one for himself and takes another out to his uncle. With Robin still keeping Wayne entertained – if that was the correct word – Eddie waits in the kitchen with Steve for the pie to finish cooking.

Steve’s got his arms pulled taut across his stomach, and he’s squeezing his shirt, balling the fabric in his fists till his knuckles turn white.

“Baby…” Eddie murmurs, running a hand gently down his back. Steve’s tense under his hand, muscles in his back rigid. “It’s alright. Wayne’s fine, I promise.”

Steve nods, but his eyes are fixed on the oven, unblinking.

“It smells really good,” Eddie continues, peering through the glass oven door. “He’s gonna love it.”

“Might’ve burnt the bottom,” Steve croaks out, so softly that Eddie barely hears him.

“I’m sure it’ll be fine. Is it ready to get out, do you think? We can have a look.”

Steve grabs the oven mitt and lifts the pie out. It looks perfect, the pastry puffed and golden, the filling audibly bubbling away under the crust.

Steve’s just got it set up to cool a little when Wayne enters the kitchen.

“Thought I smelled a chicken pot pie,” he comments easily, “Eddie told you my weakness, huh?”

Steve startles a little at Wayne’s voice, and Eddie prepares to intervene and lead the conversation.

But then Steve clears his throat, presses himself a little closer to Eddie’s side, and finds his voice. “It’s got your vegetables in it, sir.”

“Just Wayne’s fine, son."

Steve falters, hands still buried in the oven mitt as he visibly stumbles over something to say.

Frodo pads quietly into the kitchen, pressing himself up against Steve’s leg. Eddie’s not sure if he’d sensed Steve might need him, or if he was just hoping for some pie.

Perhaps a bit of both.

Wayne cocks his head, not phased by Steve’s nervousness. “That Springsteen I hear, too? Good choice.”

Eddie relaxes slightly.

Thank fuck for his uncle, and his thoughtfulness.

Steve smiles. “His music’s my favourite.”

“Got a favourite album? I know most people’ll say Born in the USA, but I’m partial to a bit of The River myself…”

Eddie watches, letting their conversation wash over him, smiling to himself as Steve slowly relaxes, as his words come easier and easier with every sentence, until he’s chatting away with Wayne first about music, then about the market, about baking, about vegetables.

When Wayne’s giving him an enthusiastic lesson about the best soil types for root vegetables and Steve’s nodding along eagerly, Eddie knows they’re going to be ok.

With the pie portioned up, the conversation starts to die, simply because Wayne and Eddie are too busy eating what might be the best damn meal they’ve ever had.

Wayne eventually settles his fork on the plate to take a breather. “This is…” he chuckles, nods to himself. “This is damn good, Steve.”

“You like it?” Steve asks, that hint of anxiousness back in his voice, that need to please that Eddie had noticed in him often. “It’s a little burnt on the bottom, I think. Sorry.”

Wayne waves his fork. “Nothing burnt about it. It’s as good as Eddie’s mother used to make.”

Eddie pauses mid-chew, briefly meeting Steve’s eye – he hadn’t told him that. He’d said the pie was Wayne’s favourite, and that was true, he’d just…left out the part about his mom, that’s all.

It was still hard to talk about her, sometimes.

“Wait till you see dessert,” Robin pipes up, and the moment passes.

Eventually, with plates scraped clean, Eddie turns the conversation back to the market, to Steve’s earlier suggestions.

“So…Wayne,” Eddie starts, “what did you think about Steve’s idea to collaborate at the market? You’re still happy with it?”

Wayne wipes at his mouth with a napkin and nods. “So long as you’re all fine with it.”

Steve nods enthusiastically.

“I’ll try my darndest not to scare away your customers,” Wayne says with a smile. “But in all seriousness, I’m grateful for the chance. You let me know how you want to run things, and I’ll follow your lead,” he says to Steve.

“So, on that note…” Robin interjects. “Is it time for dessert?”

She shares a grin with Steve, something sly and secret, and Eddie looks between the two of them. He’s in the dark – Steve hadn’t said anything about dessert, despite Eddie having given him a list of Wayne’s favourite ones.

Steve sidles into the kitchen, Eddie listening as he clatters around with something. Robin’s practically vibrating in her chair, and Wayne just looks confused.

“Just wait,” Robin tells them, “he spent ages working on this yesterday.”

Steve emerges with a plate in two hands, a cake stacked several tiers high with white icing atop it.

Wayne blinks several times, watching as Steve sets it down carefully in the middle of the table.

“Hummingbird cake?” he asks breathlessly, and Steve nods, giving him a smile.

Eddie’s eyes find Steve’s. He tries to convey his thanks through that look, pours all the warmth into it he can – hummingbird cake is something Wayne had often talked about from his childhood, but it had been literal decades since he’d had it, since it wasn’t so easy to find in these parts. Eddie had thrown it on the list on a whim, thinking it was a fairly unlikely one for Steve to pick.

“It has your bananas in it,” Steve tells him quietly, “I’ve never made it before so hopefully it’s ok.”

Wayne’s speechless as Steve slices them all a piece. The boy then takes his own seat, poking at the cake a bit nervously, eyes fixed on Wayne.

Eddie reaches under the table and squeezes his knee gently. It’s fine, he tries to tell him.

“Is it…ok?” Steve blurts out as Wayne chews silently.

Wayne doesn’t answer straight away. Instead, he reaches over and lays a hand on Steve’s shoulder, just lightly.

Eddie’s worried for a moment that Steve will recoil from the touch, but he doesn’t.

“Son, you’ve really spoiled me tonight. Thank you,” Wayne says simply, then withdraws his hand and continues to eat.

Satisfied, Steve smiles, and finally digs into his own helping.

Later, with Wayne waiting in Eddie’s van and Robin doing the last of the cleaning up in the kitchen, Eddie lingers by the door with Steve. He kisses him, slow and sweet, pulling away to chuckle as Frodo winds around his feet.

“You’re feeling better, huh,” Eddie says to the cat.

“He misses you being here,” Steve murmurs, one finger hooked around Eddie’s belt loop. “I do, too.”

Eddie leans in. Kisses him again, brings a hand to Steve’s cheek and just cradles.

Chapter Text

Steve, 2134 – What do you think of this?

Eddie looks down as his phone buzzes in his hand, cigarette dangling between his lips. He’s at work on Friday night, savouring the last few minutes of his break.

Steve’s sent several photos through to him. They’re of the signs for the baking and produce stalls, advertising both. Will’s handiwork is obvious on them – a carefully drawn cake on one side, a bowl of fruit on the other, bright and eye-catching and impressive enough to make Eddie raise his eyebrows.

Eddie, 2136 – Looks really good Stevie. Little Byers has talent too.

Steve, 2137 – You think Wayne will like it?

Eddie, 2138 – Definitely

Steve, 2140 – Ok cool. I’ve been choosing some recipes that we could print out and have on the table too, easy ones that use Wayne’s produce that people can take if they want to.

Eddie, 2142 – Sounds perfct. Sorry sweetheart I gotta get back to work but I’ll see you tomorrow ok? And don’t be too nervous, I promise it’ll be fine

Steve, 2143 – I’ll try. Hope the rest of your shift is ok.

Eddie flicks him a heart emoji and stubs out his cigarette, dragging his feet as he heads back inside the bar. He really hopes Steve doesn’t worry too much about their first day working with Wayne tomorrow – he’s acquainted with Wayne now, after all, and not too much will be different, but Eddie knows Steve’s mind works a little differently. It’s a change to his routine, to how he and Robin have done things up until now, and he knows that in itself will be enough to put Steve on edge.

He just hopes like hell the weekend goes as smoothly as possible.

*****

By midday on Saturday, Wayne’s already sold more produce than he would in a whole weekend, by Eddie’s estimate.

They’ve got both stalls set up on a single larger plot, making it easy for people to move between both. Some of Steve’s regular customers stop to talk to Wayne, and take advantage of the free cookie with every carton of berries sold.

Eddie watches his uncle throughout the morning, and thinks he hasn’t seen him this happy for a long time. He’s eagerly helping people find the ripest pieces of fruit in the basket, chatting with them about recipes and growing seasons and weather and a myriad of fruit-related topics that Eddie mostly tunes out. But Wayne’s smile never leaves his face, and that’s all that matters to Eddie.

Robin and Steve are flat-out, Robin taking orders and processing payments and Steve bagging everything up and unloading more baking from the cooler whenever they needed to replace empty containers, which was often.

Eddie moves between both stalls, helping wherever he was needed. But he’d drift back to Steve’s side often, hand running over the small of his back, providing comfort where he could.

Steve is…doing ok, Eddie thinks. He’s quiet, but that’s not unexpected. He’d left Frodo behind at the house, not wanting to bring him along to the market while he still had his stitches in, and Eddie had no doubt he was feeling his absence. But he’s getting through the orders, pointing out the flyers on the table with the recipes to people, smiling briefly at Eddie every now and then.

At lunchtime, they take a breather.

Steve sits cross-legged on the grass, leaning up against the beemer, and immediately puts his headphones on. Eddie taps him on the knee lightly, giving him a questioning look. Steve gives him a quick thumbs up, and his smile is small but genuine.

He just needs a break. Eddie understands, and sits down beside him, Robin taking his other side, her knobbly knee pressed up against Steve’s.

Wayne drags over a plastic chair and sinks into it with a sigh. “If I sit down there with you lot, I’ll never get back up,” he says, flapping a hand at them, and starts to unwrap his sandwich.

“You’re welcome to grab something off the table,” Robin tells him. “Anything you like.”

“Well that’s a hell of an offer, I won’t say no.”

Steve’s setting out all his lunchbox items neatly. Wordlessly, he presses a muesli bar from it into Eddie’s hand.

“Oh, that’s ok, I’ve got stuff,” Eddie tells him, but Steve pushes it at him more firmly.

“Packed extra for you,” he mumbles, and deposits it in Eddie’s hand.

“How’re your sales going, Wayne?” Robin asks, biting into an apple that was definitely one of Wayne’s – not that anyone minded.

“Really good, I’d say,” Wayne replies, “I’ll have to bring extra tomorrow at this rate.”

Steve’s fiddling with the lid of his yogurt container, getting frustrated as he tries to twist it off. Eddie reaches over, taps his wrist gently, and holds out an open hand in question. Steve hands him the pottle, lips twitching up in a half smile. Eddie successfully opens it after a few tries and gives it back to him, receiving a grin and a soft brush of fingers across his hand in thanks.

When Eddie looks back up, he catches Wayne’s eye. His uncle had watched the whole exchange with a soft smile, and Eddie’s cheeks flush a little before he starts to unwrap the muesli bar Steve had given him.

Not long after lunch, there’s a brief moment of commotion when someone sends a baseball flying straight into the middle of the market, narrowly missing several heads before it rolls to a stop not far from Steve and Wayne’s stalls. A tall blonde guy storms over, scoffing when another stall-holder berates him and shoving bystanders out of the way to collect his ball.

He pauses for a moment, eyes on Steve and Robin, before tossing them a glare and stalking off.

“The baseball diamond’s meant to be closed while we’re here,” Robin comments dryly. “He’s an idiot.”

“That’s Max’s brother,” Steve tells Eddie quietly, eyes downcast, and Eddie doesn’t miss the slight tremble in his voice. But then they’re busy again, serving another wave of customers, and the interaction quickly slips from Eddie’s mind.

The afternoon passes without further incident. Joyce and Claudia stop by the stall with Will, El and Dustin, and Claudia lingers just a little too long at Wayne’s stall, fawning over Wayne’s produce until the man flashed Eddie a desperate look that had him chuckling and strolling over to help him deal with the unexpected attention from the lady.

While Robin and Wayne finish cleaning up just before the market closes, Eddie takes Steve by the hand and guides him towards Dmitri’s nut stall.

“I can do the talking if you like,” Eddie whispers to him, “but I thought we could get you some more almonds.”

Steve nods, tucking himself half behind Eddie as they approach.

Dmitri grins when he catches sight of Eddie. He’s packing away some boxes, handing them to his son who’s carting them to a nearby car.

“Eddie! Haven’t seen you for a while,” Dmitri exclaims, “I’ve been meaning to come and see you at your new stall, but it is always so busy.”

“Yeah, it sure is,” Eddie agrees, rubbing the back of his neck. “This is Steve, it’s his stall actually, his and his friend’s. I just help out.” He squeezes Steve’s hand, and the other boy squeezes back.

“Ah, this is the famous Steve!” Dmitri puts another box down, brushing his hands off. “This whole place is talking about you and your baking. You know, I’ve sold more peanuts than ever before, because I’ve had people wanting to try and make your peanut brownies.”

Steve smiles sheepishly.

“What can I do for you?” Dmitri asks, and gestures at the selection of nuts laid out on the table. There’s almonds, walnuts, a nearly empty box of peanuts in their shells, macademias, hazelnuts, pecans, cashews, and some Eddie didn’t even recognize, along with packets of salted and roasted varieties.

“Almonds, please,” Steve asks quietly.

“Of course. How many would you like?”

Steve falls silent again, so Eddie takes over.

“Just a small bag, please. They’re for the squirrels.”

Dmitri’s son, Mikhail, tilts his head. “You can feed them nuts?”

Steve nods. His index finger draws a figure-of-eight pattern on Eddie’s knuckle.

“Cool. I didn’t know that. Dad, can we feed them?” The kid looks up at Dmitri hopefully.

“Maybe after we finish loading up the car,” Dmitri tells him.

Steve looks between the two of them. “You can come with us, if you like. We’re going to feed to them now.”

Eddie blooms with warmth. He shouldn’t have been surprised, not really – Steve was good with kids, and often seemed more comfortable around them than adults, after all.

Dmitri sends them off with a bag of almonds, Mikhail following along behind Eddie and Steve as they head to their spot by the maple tree.

“Here.” Steve hands an almond over to the young boy. “Throw it towards the bottom of that tree, and we’ll see if any come down to get it.”

Mikhail does, face lighting up when a squirrel immediately scuttles down and grabs it. Steve smiles and passes him another.

Eddie sits down on the park bench, spreading his bandana out next to him in case Steve wanted to sit too.

He watches as Steve chatters away to Mikhail about squirrels, seemingly sharing everything he knows. The boy listens intently, nodding along and throwing almonds until Steve tells him that’s enough, that they can’t overfeed them. Mikhail heads back towards his father’s stall after that, giving them a wave as he leaves.

Steve sits on his prepared seat, reaching for Eddie’s hand again.

“Thanks for today,” he tells Eddie softly.

“No need to thank me, it was your idea.” Eddie lifts Steve’s hand to his mouth, kisses it, then lowers it to his lap.

Steve nods. “But you set it up with Wayne. You helped. I wouldn’t have…wouldn’t have been able to do it without you.”

“Sure, you could’ve.”

Steve looks at him, blinks slowly several times - almost like Frodo does in that loving way that cats have - and says, “Wouldn’t have wanted to, though. Not without you.”

Eddie smiles at that. “So, day one went well, you think?”

Steve nods. “Yeah. I’ve been trying to think of more we could do too. Like maybe I could make preserves or sauces or something with Wayne’s stuff.”

“That’s a good idea. You’re selling so well that I’m sure it’ll be popular.”

“You think?”

“Yeah. Didn’t you hear, you’re famous now.” Eddie nudges him and Steve squirms, cheeks red, teeth white as he grins.

“Not famous,” he mumbles.

“Well, here you are. Everyone wants a piece of Steve, it seems.”

“They want my baking,” Steve corrects him.

“Mmm,” Eddie murmurs, “only I get to do this, though.” He leans over, presses his mouth to Steve’s, the trees sheltering them from any onlookers, creating their own little private haven amongst the maples.

Steve exhales, warm air puffing across Eddie’s nose, and kisses him back.

“Yeah,” Steve hums into his mouth, “only you.”

Eddie tugs him a little closer, wrapping an arm around Steve’s waist and squeezing him. They watch the squirrels for as long as they can get away with without Robin coming to find them. Steve’s eyes follow them as they move, watching them scratch around in the undergrowth, yawn and stretch out in the patches of sunlight trickling through the trees, dart up and down the trunks.

Mostly, Eddie just watches Steve.

A couple walks past at one point, a lady stopping to compliment Steve on the banana cake slice she’d bought from him last week and asking if he’d ever make whole cakes to order. Steve smiles and shrugs, going shy under the praise, and Eddie thanks the lady for him and tells her it’s something they could think about.

Finally, after Robin messages them in the group chat ordering them to get their asses back to the car already, Eddie and Steve leave their spot at the park bench.

They’re passing Dmitri’s stall when Steve slows, watching the man folding up the last of his tables, Mikhail packing their signs away into the car.

Eddie leans in close, squeezing Steve’s hand to get his attention. “What you thinking about, sweetheart?”

Steve tilts his head, eyes still fixed on the stall.

“Nuts.”

Chapter Text

“So why don’t they just get one of the eagles to fly the ring to -”

“Shush!” Eddie reaches up and covers Steve’s mouth with his hand, the boy spluttering under it and pushing him playfully away.

“But why?” Steve repeats, frowning at the TV.

“Tolkien had his reasons, ok, and it would…it would spoil the entire story.”

Steve’s frown deepens. “I’m gonna ask Dustin next time I see him.”

“…I’m sure he’ll love that,” Eddie snickers.

It’s Saturday night, and Eddie’s staying over at Steve and Robin’s on the couch, just for the night. Just to test it out, to see if he can slot seamlessly into Steve’s routine again without throwing him off too much.

Robin’s out on a date, one she’d spent way too long agonizing over her outfit for, parading several options in the lounge until Steve and Eddie finally got her to settle on something.

Steve and Eddie are curled up on the couch partway through a Lord of the Rings marathon, Steve having finally conceded to watching them. While he watched, he traced two fingers in a repetitive pattern over the Anduril tattoo on Eddie’s forearm, his touch light and soothing.

“I like him,” Steve announces during one of Faramir’s scenes.

Eddie nods in agreement. “Is he your favourite?”

Steve shakes his head, and Eddie swears he catches a faint blush on his cheeks.

“Oh?” Eddie squeezes his sides, Steve squirming under his grip, digging an elbow into Eddie’s ribs as his blush deepens. “Who’s your favourite, then?”

Steve mumbles something inaudible.

“What was that, sweetheart?”

“The ranger guy,” he says, voice small.

Eddie’s grin is wide. “Aragorn?”

“Uh huh.”

“Yeah, he’s cool. It’s ok, I think we’ve all got a bit of a crush on the guy.”

“I don’t have a crush! What do you think I am, twelve?”

Eddie chuckles, pulling Steve closer to him, to lean him back against his chest. “Aw, it’s ok, Stevie.”

“Shut up,” Steve mumbles, but he’s smiling, and Eddie’s so fucking in love with him it hurts.

Eddie almost tells him.

Almost says it, there and then, those three little words teetering on the edge of his tongue…

But then the front door’s opening, Robin stomping inside and kicking her shoes off in the hallway and joining them in the lounge.

“How’d it go?” Steve asks her carefully.

Eddie eyes Robin, takes in her slightly smudged make up, the sag of her shoulders, the way she scoops Frodo up off the armchair and plonks herself down heavily with the cat in her lap.

She gives Steve a look, and he winces.

“That bad?”

Robin sighs. “Well…it was ok at first. She was nice, and I thought everything was going well even if I was doing most of the talking, but then she sort of…backtracked, and said she wasn’t really looking for anything serious and maybe we’d be better as just friends.”

“…ouch,” Eddie contributes.

Robin nods. “And so I thought, ok, well, maybe at least I’ll have made a friend then, but she wasn’t really interested in the things I was talking about and I did that thing, you know that thing that I always do where it’s like…I should stop talking, but I get nervous and the words keep spilling out like my brain is moving faster than my mouth or…or maybe it’s the other way around, and I dig this hole for myself and I want to stop but I can’t…and I’m doing it right now, aren’t I?”

“Yes,” Steve tells her, honest as ever.

Robin groans, letting her head thunk back into the chair. “Ugh, I’m hopeless.”

“You’re not,” Steve tells her, “you just…need to find the right person.”

Subtly, Steve squeezes Eddie’s hand.

“But where are they?” Robin rubs her hand over her face, briefing clenching a fist in her hair before lowering it more gently to settle on Frodo.

“You’ll find them, Buckley,” Eddie says, doing his best to sound encouraging.

“Well, it’d be great if the universe could hurry up and bring us together. Like it did for you two dinguses.”

“…you could try actually talking to Nancy?” Steve squeaks out, immediately ducking behind Eddie as if in anticipation of retaliation.

Sure enough, Robin hurls a cushion half-heartedly in his direction, and Steve bats it away with a laugh.

*****

The following day, back at the market, Eddie’s throwing a cautious glance over his shoulder towards the public toilets at the other side of the park. Steve had gone to use it about fifteen minutes ago, and hadn’t returned to the stall yet.

Eddie’s worried.

He knows Steve isn’t a child, knows he’s perfectly capable of walking to the toilet and back by himself, but what if something happened?

“Just go over there,” Wayne tells him eventually, a little exasperated. “That’s the second time you’ve handed someone the wrong change, I know you’re worried, so go and check.”

That permission is all Eddie needs to start making his way over, as casually as he can manage, to the toilet block tucked away behind the groundskeeper’s shed.

Immediately, he hears voices coming from behind it.

Steve’s, and another. Eddie picks up the pace.

“Stay away from my sister, you hear me, freak? You a fucking kiddy fiddler, or something?”  

“I’m not a -” Steve’s shaky voice, followed by the sound of a fist colliding with something.

Eddie’s heart hammers, and he rounds the corner of the toilet block.

Rage overtakes him.

Steve’s on the ground, the blonde boy from yesterday standing over him, one fist curled in Steve’s collar. There’s blood on Steve’s face, dripping from his nose, his glasses smashed on the ground nearby, and he’s shaking all over.

“Get the fuck away from him,” Eddie spits, shoving himself between the two of them, pushing at the larger guy’s chest.

The blonde boy’s face twists in a snarl, and he kicks at Steve’s legs. “You know this guy’s a fucking pervert? You know he hangs out with little kids at the park, gives out candy and shit? I’ve seen him.”

Steve’s crying, tears mingling with the blood on his face, creating watery red streaks.

“I told you to get the fuck away from him,” Eddie repeats, his voice low now, dangerous.

The other boy must sense something, must see the resolve on Eddie’s face, because his fist loosens a little where it’s gripping onto Steve’s shirt, but he doesn’t let go completely.

A small noise escapes Steve.

Eddie’s gonna kill this guy, he’s gonna fucking kill him, and he’s steeling himself for a fight when suddenly there’s another man joining them.

“I’m calling the police, so I suggest you let go of him.” It’s Dmitri, cellphone up to his ear.

When Steve’s attacker doesn’t immediately back down, Dmitri steps up beside Eddie, the larger man an intimidating force.

The blonde boy lets go. Takes a few steps back, spits at the ground next to Steve, and leaves.

Dmitri’s busy talking into the phone, giving the operator the address for the park, and Eddie drops to his knees in front of Steve, both hands lightly cupping his face and assessing the damage there.

“It’s ok, Stevie, I’ve got you, you’re alright,” he’s murmuring, even though it’s very much not alright, even though Steve’s breath is hitching in his chest as he cries, even though there’s already a bruise forming across the side of his jaw.

“Don’t want police,” Steve’s whining, fists clenched in Eddie’s shirt, tugging hard. “Don’t want them, I don’t want them.”

There’s tears and snot on his face, and Eddie wipes at it with his sleeve, uncaring about the mess.

“That guy assaulted you, we gotta tell the police, I want that asshole locked up,” Eddie growls out, but Steve’s distress only heightens, and he’s shoving at Eddie now.

“They’re already on the way,” Dmitri says, looking a little apologetic, “she said there was someone nearby and that they wouldn’t be long.”

Steve whines again, one hand wrapped around Eddie’s wrist and squeezing hard enough to hurt now.

“Hey, it’s ok, you’re ok,” Eddie tries to soothe him, but Steve pushes away from him, shaking his head.

“What the hell happened here?”

Wayne’s arrived now, Robin beside him, the two of them having obviously come to see what was taking them so long.

“Steve got assaulted, that asshole from yesterday, the one with the baseball,” Eddie ground out.

“Billy?” Robin gasps, squatting next to Eddie, rubbing a hand across Steve’s shoulder. “Where is he?”

“He left, went towards the parking lot. The police are coming.”

“No, no, no, no,” Steve splutters, pulling away from both Eddie and Robin now.

“Shhhh, just take a breath,” Robin says gently, trying to guide him back down to a sitting position, but Steve’s trembling and folding his arms across his stomach now, rocking on the spot.

“I think you two should give him some space,” Wayne suggests.

“Wayne, just…just let us look after him, ok?” Eddie replies, a little snappily, because Wayne doesn’t know Steve, not like Eddie and Robin do, and right now he needs Steve close, needs to hold and soothe and protect.

“You’re crowding him.” Wayne’s voice is firmer now. “Back off a bit.”

Eddie looks down at Steve. At the boy pressing himself further into the concrete wall of the toilet block, leaning away from him and Robin, desperately sucking in air as his fists clench and unclench.

Eddie swallows. Gets a handle on his anger for a moment, and loosens his grip on Steve.

“He’s right,” he tells Robin, placing a hand on her arm, encouraging her to move back. “Let him breathe for a minute.”

Eddie and Robin peel away from Steve, just a little bit. Robin’s nails are making little half-moon indents in Eddie’s arm, but he ignores it, focused on Steve. The boy’s eyes are wide and unblinking as he rocks back and forth, but he seems to breathe a little easier without Eddie and Robin clutching him.

A police siren wails as the patrol car approaches, and Eddie curses under his breath. Steve stiffens up, drawing his knees to his chest, fingers scrabbling at the hard ground until the noise eventually stops.

Dmitri leads the cop over, Eddie’s heart sinking a little at the sight of the large, gruff-looking man approaching. He’d been hoping for maybe a female cop, or at least someone that looked a little…gentler than this man.

But to Eddie’s surprise, the cop stops a short distance from Steve, holding his hand up for silence when Eddie and Robin immediately start to dive into an explanation.

“Hey Steve,” the cop says, squatting down in front of him. He takes his hat off, holding it in both hands as his eyes run over the boy. “What’s happened here, then?”

Eddie frowns. They know each other?

“It’s Hopper,” Robin whispers to him, “Joyce’s husband.”

Steve doesn’t answer, just sniffs and continues to rock, hand swiping across his face, smearing blood and tears.

“Can we get an ambulance as well?” Eddie asks, fighting back the need to go to Steve, to hold him close again.

Hopper tilts his head, experienced eyes roving Steve’s face. “Do you need an ambulance, Steve?” he asks quietly.

Steve shakes his head.

“But -” Eddie starts, because what if Steve’s really hurt, what if he’s got a head injury, or –

“Steve’s said no,” Hopper tells him calmly, “and it doesn’t look too bad. We’ll reassess once we’ve got him cleaned up a bit, ok?”

Eddie bites his tongue and nods.

There’s a group of onlookers starting to gather – members of the public arriving to use the toilets, hanging around to watch the scene unfold.

Eddie glares at them.

“Steve, how about we take you home?” Hopper asks him gently. “We can talk in private there.”

“You need to be going after the guy that did this, his name’s Billy, I can describe him,” Eddie tells him urgently.

“Billy Hargrove?” Hopper guesses, raising an eyebrow.

Robin nods.

“Well, we know who he is, then. We’ll catch up with him later. Right now, I think we should get Steve somewhere more comfortable, and get him cleaned up.”

Eddie’s about to argue when he looks at Steve again.

The fight leaves him.

Tears are still streaming down Steve’s cheeks, and he looks so small sitting there.

Hopper’s right. The sooner they get Steve somewhere more familiar, more comfortable, the better.

“Steve, can we take you home?” Hopper asks him.

A small nod from Steve.

“Think you can walk to the patrol car? It’s not too far, it’s just -”

“No,” Steve snaps, shaking his head fervently. “Not your car.”

Hopper flicks a questioning look at Robin and Eddie, but his calm demeanor doesn’t change. “Ok, no problem. Can someone else give you a ride, and I’ll meet you there? I don’t want you driving right now.”

“I’ll take you, Stevie,” Eddie offers.

Steve nods, and starts to push himself up, wincing.

Eddie lunges forward, ready to help, to grab him and pull him to his feet, but he stops. Forces himself to take a leaf out of Hopper’s book instead, because Steve is overwhelmed and distressed and Eddie’s not sure how best to help him right now.

So, he asks.

“Do you want help, Steve?”

Steve pauses for a moment, then shakes his head.

Eddie fights to keep his feet still. He can see Robin out of the corner of his eye, her hands hovering a short distance from Steve, clearing battling her own urge to just help him.

Shakily, Steve gets to his feet. Hopper’s waving away the crowd that had gathered and grabbing some quick contact details for Dmitri as a witness. As Steve starts to limp back towards Eddie’s van, with Robin and Wayne in tow, Hopper takes Eddie’s elbow, guiding him to the side.

“Are you his boyfriend? Joyce mentioned it seemed like Steve was seeing someone, I’m guessing that’s you?”

They hadn’t really put a name on their relationship yet, but Eddie supposes that was the closest word for it.

Taking his silence as confirmation, Hopper continues. “I know you’re angry,” he tells him quietly, “but it’s not what Steve needs right now, ok?”

Eddie swallows thickly, his own tears starting to gather now that the adrenaline of the moment was flooding out of him.

“Just keep calm on the drive home, don’t pressure him to talk. We’ll take a statement eventually, but it’ll be in Steve’s own time, got it?”

Eddie nods, jaw clenched, and Hopper lets him go.

Eddie drives with Steve in the passenger seat staring out the window, sniffing occasionally. Robin’s in the backseat, not willing to be any further from Steve. They’ve left Wayne to clean up the stalls, and they’ll come back for Steve’s beemer some other time.

For now, Eddie reaches a tentative hand across to Steve, leaving it palm up on the edge of the seat, giving Steve the chance to either ignore it or take it.

After a brief moment, Steve takes it.

Chapter Text

Steve’s sitting on the couch, a glass of water untouched in front of him, Frodo on his lap. He’s still shaking, still not talking, but he allows Eddie to dab at the blood on his face with a clean cloth. Robin’s seated beside him, not touching him, just staying close. Bruce Springsteen plays quietly in the kitchen, breaking through the tense atmosphere.

Hopper’s asked him several times about the assault at the park, but Steve’s ignored his questions each time. Instead, Hopper’s now steering the conversation away from it entirely, and Eddie guesses he’s just trying to get Steve to say anything.

“What’s your cat’s name?” Hopper asks, nodding his head towards Frodo.

“Frodo.” Steve’s voice is barely audible, but Hopper smiles.

“We’re getting a dog soon, did Joyce tell you? We thought it might be good for Will. Maybe you can come see him when we get him.”

Steve nods, eyes focused somewhere behind Hopper.

“Will seems happier about his appointments now, after you had that talk with him. Was meaning to thank you for that.”

Steve shrugs.

Eddie places a gentle finger under his chin, tilting Steve’s head slightly so he can inspect the cut on his top lip. It’s not deep, but it would be difficult to heal in a spot that moved so much. Carefully, he wipes at it with a cotton pad soaked in antiseptic, murmuring an apology when Steve winces at the sting.

“Robin, can you grab me something frozen for this bruise?” Eddie asks her, frowning at the blue discolouration on Steve’s jaw.

Grateful for something to do, Robin hops up, returning quickly with an icepack wrapped in a tea towel. Eddie places it in Steve’s hand and guides it to his face, pressing it there gently.

“Do you feel dizzy at all?” Eddie asks him.

Steve shakes his head.

“What about, like…sick, or like you’re seeing double, or anything like that?” Eddie racks his brain for any knowledge he has of concussions, trying to think of the symptoms.

Steve gestures weakly to his face and flaps a hand.

Eddie’s gotten good at understanding Steve’s silent communication, but he can’t quite interpret that one.

“He stood on my glasses,” Steve mumbles, “so I can’t see that well anyway.”

“I’ll find your spare ones. Can I go in your room?” Robin asks him, and Steve nods.

Hopper sees the lead in, and takes it. “He stand on your glasses before or after he hit you, Steve?”

“After,” Steve answers, gently stroking Frodo’s head with his free hand. His nails are black with dirt and torn from scrabbling at the ground, and Eddie makes a mental note to take care of them next. “After the first time.”

Hopper’s note pad is out in his lap now, pen in hand. “So he hit you, then he took your glasses and stood on them, then he hit you again?”

Steve shakes his head, making a small sound of frustration.

“Could you tell me what happened then, Steve?” Hopper asks.

He’s still calm, and Eddie flashes him a grateful look. His prior experience with cops has never been the best, but Hopper’s…different.

“What’re you writing?” Steve’s voice is a little slurred where his lip is swelling.

“Whatever you tell me.”

Steve falls silent again, still patting Frodo. His face is clean now, at least, Eddie having mopped up the dried blood from around his nose and chin. Hopper waits, the picture of patience, until finally Steve talks again.

“I was coming back from the toilet,” Steve says, barely above a whisper, eyes on his cat. “And Billy was there. He saw me, pulled me around the back of the toilets. He said…he called me a perv, said Max – that’s his sister – keeps talking about me, and that I had to stay away from her. And then…then he hit me. And I fell, and my glasses came off, and he stood on them, and then he hit me again. And kicked me.”

“Where did he kick you?” Eddie interrupts, concern gripping him.

“Stomach,” Steve croaks.

“Ok, let me see.” Eddie reaches for the hem of Steve’s t shirt, planning to lift it up and check him for injuries, but Steve shies away from his hand, clutching Frodo tightly.

“Maybe we’ll have a look afterwards,” Hopper decides, and Steve relaxes a little.

Eddie retracts his hand, hating that he kept upsetting Steve but desperate to help.

“And then Eddie arrived,” Steve continues, “and he got in between me and Billy. Helped me,” he says softly.

“He was saying all kinds of nasty shit about Steve,” Eddie adds, voice laden with anger, “saying he hands out candy to kids in the park, called him a kiddy fiddler, the fucking asshole.”

“It’s not candy,” Steve tells Hopper solemnly, “it’s almonds. For the squirrels. I give them to the kids so they can feed them. Billy’s arrived at the park a few times to pick Max up. He’s called me names before, but he’s never…did you know nuts are better for squirrels than a lot of the other things people feed them? They can’t eat too many, though, only a couple each a day. And they have to be the unsalted ones, because -”

“Ok, I get it,” Hopper cuts in gently, holding up a hand, and Steve snaps his mouth shut. “And what happened next?”

“Dmitri arrived, and he called the police, and Billy left,” Eddie finishes for Steve.

Hopper completes a sentence in his notebook and flips it shut. “I’ll swing by the Hargrove’s after this, see if I can pick Billy up there. If not, we’ll find him – there’s easily sufficient to arrest him for assault.”

Steve stiffens. “I don’t…I don’t want to cause trouble for Max. He’ll take it out on her, I don’t want to -”

“It’s alright, kid,” Hopper assures him, “I’ll make sure he can’t bother Max, alright? Now, will you let me have a look at where you were kicked?”

Steve shakes his head firmly.

Hopper glances to Eddie, then back to Steve. “What about him, can he look?”

There’s tears starting to gather in Steve’s eyes, but he nods slowly.

Hopper heads into the kitchen, intercepting Robin returning with the spare glasses and giving the two of them some privacy.

Eddie…doesn’t really know what he’s meant to be looking for - he’s not exactly a medical professional - but he figures he’ll just do his best.

“Let’s put Frodo next to you instead, ok?” Eddie scoops the cat up gently from Steve’s lap, depositing him on the couch beside Steve. “Can I lift your shirt up?”

Steve nods, the ice pack moving with his head.

Eddie’s fingers brush against warm skin as he carefully lifts the hem of Steve’s t shirt, easing it up slightly. Tears prick at the corner of his eyes – this is not how he imagined the first time doing this would be like, but it couldn’t be helped.

Steve’s lean and strong but his stomach is soft, dotted with moles that, under different circumstances, Eddie would be kissing. But the skin just beside his bellybutton has a slightly blue hue to it where the toe of Billy’s shoe must have landed, bruising starting to blossom. It’s not too bad, Eddie decides, but he still swallows back rage at the sight of it – even one bruise on Steve is too many.

Gently, he lowers Steve’s t shirt again, and brushes it out so it’s smooth.

“Let’s give your jaw a break from the ice, and put it on your tummy instead,” Eddie suggests quietly, taking the ice pack from Steve’s hand and settling it over his stomach. “Does it hurt much?”

Steve shrugs.

“Baby, please talk to me,” Eddie whispers, his voice trembling. “I know it’s hard, but I gotta know, in case you need you to go to the hospital.”

Steve shakes his head. “Don’t need to go.”

“You’re sure?”

Steve nods again, and then he’s slumping into Eddie, crumpling to his side. “I’m sorry,” Steve whines, tears coming again.

“Hey, no, don’t be sorry,” Eddie tells him, adjusting himself so Steve can curl into him. Eddie snakes an arm around his waist, avoiding his tender stomach, and exhales heavily into Steve’s hair, grateful to be able to touch him again. “You did nothing wrong, you hear me?”

“Scared you,” Steve whispers, “you were mad.”

“Not at you, baby. Never at you.”

“We should go back. Help Wayne clean up.”

“Wayne’s fine, sweetheart. I’m sure he’s nearly done, anyway.”

“People’ll be disappointed. That we closed up early.”

“Well, they can buy stuff next weekend.”

Steve wriggles in Eddie’s arms, distressed again. “There was…there was a lady coming to get a cake after her run, I’d put it aside for her, she wouldn’t have got it, we have to -”

“Shhhh,” Eddie soothes him, running a hand over his back. “Did you take her phone number? I’ll text her.”

“Robin has it.”

“Alright, we’ll take care of that. You just try and relax, ok? And keep that ice on.”

Hopper re-enters the room with Robin, the latter placing Steve’s spare glasses down on the coffee table in front of him.

“I’m going to ring Dmitri, get his statement, and then I’ll go and make some enquiries after Hargrove. If you need anything else, you call me, ok?” Hopper tells them. “If you can’t reach me at the station, call Joyce.”

Eddie thanks him. Hopper pauses on his way out, looking at Steve curled up with Eddie.

“And Steve?” he adds. “For the record, I’m happy Will met you. You’ve made more of a difference to him than you know, and I’m sure his friends feel the same way, including Max.”

*****

The rest of the afternoon and evening is…tense.

Steve’s out of sorts, drifting from the lounge to his room and back again, sitting briefly somewhere without any purpose before getting up and shifting, hands flapping occasionally. He’d showered and changed his clothes, and Robin had put his shirt in to soak with some stain remover working away at the bloodied section of the collar.

Try as Eddie might, he couldn’t get the boy to relax. He put The Breakfast Club on again, but Steve stared past the TV, hands clenching and unclenching rhythmically. Frodo stuck to his side like glue, and Steve would pat him every now and then, but even that didn’t seem to be helping.

Finally, as dinner time approached, Eddie asked if there was anything Steve felt like to eat.

Steve shook his head.

“I could make…grilled cheese?” Eddie offers. His meal repertoire was admittedly quite small, certainly nothing compared to what Steve could make, but he was still capable of smashing some basic food items together and coming out with something. “Or um…there might still be some soup in the freezer, I could defrost some?”

Another shake of Steve’s head.

Eddie sighs. “Sweetheart, you should probably eat something.”

Steve never skips dinner. He always eats at six pm, he enjoys dinner, it’s like a fixed point for him.

“I’m gonna make something for me and Robin, ok? And I’ll make extra for you, so it’s there if you want it.”

Eddie makes grilled cheese sandwiches for the three of them. He and Robin eat unenthusiastically, constantly glancing back towards Steve still sitting on the couch, ignoring the food on the plate in front of him. Robin tries to talk occasionally, tries to break the tension, but it’s not very successful.

It’s like the light’s gone out of the room.

Steve takes himself to bed eventually. Eddie’s washing up in the kitchen, and Steve briefly pauses behind him, reaches around and squeezes Eddie’s wrist once, just gently, and then he quietly pads to his bedroom and closes the door.

“Should I go check on him?” Eddie asks Robin a little while later, when he’s remade his makeshift bed on the couch. He’d called in sick to work again – at this rate, he’d lose his job soon, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. There were more jobs out there, but there was only one Steve.

“No,” Robin tells him, handing him another blanket. “He needs a bit of time to himself, I think.”

Eddie’s concern must show on his face, because Robin pats his shoulder and gives him a small smile. “He’ll be more himself in the morning. Sometimes he just needs to…hide away for a bit. We just need to be here when he’s ready.”

Eddie lies awake for a long time.

The house is dark. Frodo’s with Steve, so Eddie doesn’t even have the purring cat to keep him company. He tosses and turns on the small couch, fighting his every instinct to go to Steve, to look behind his closed door and take him in his arms and hold.

It’s past midnight when he hears Steve’s bedroom door open, the sound of socked feet on carpet, steps quick and urgent on their way to the bathroom.

The unmistakable sound of retching, slightly muffled by the bathroom door, reaches Eddie.

He’s on his feet immediately, heading down the hallway to the bathroom.

“Steve?” he taps on the door. “You ok? Can I…can I come in?”

He gets a miserable noise in response, a quiet moan, and Eddie’s pushing the door open.

Steve’s on his knees in front of the toilet, hair hanging limp across his pale face.

“Sweetheart…” Eddie murmurs, squatting down beside him. He places a gentle hand on Steve’s back, rubbing over his t shirt. “Is it your head?” he asks worriedly. “Do you have a concussion?”

Steve shakes his head, spits into the bowl of the toilet, his nose crinkled up in disgust. “No. Happens sometimes. When I’m…stressed.”

Eddie continues running his hand up and down Steve’s back, the two of them sitting in silence for a few moments before Steve leans back, signaling he’s done. Eddie wets a face cloth and wipes around Steve’s mouth, then guides him to the sink to wash his hands.

The two of them linger outside Steve’s bedroom door.

Robin’s door opens, and she pokes her head around, blinking tiredly.

“Steve? Everything ok?”

Steve nods. “Yeah. You can go back to sleep.”

“You’re sure?”

“Mmm hmm.”

“Wake me if you need me.”

Robin eyes Eddie for a moment. Then, satisfied that her best friend is in good hands, she retreats back to her room again.

Steve’s looking down at the carpet, his fingers brushing against Eddie’s. In the dim light emanating from Steve’s room, Eddie can see the bruise on his jaw has darkened and spread, and his lip has bled a little more in the night.

“Steve? You want to go back to bed?”

He nods. “But…” he trails off, looking back towards his room, then back to Eddie. In a small voice, he adds, “will you come?”

“If that’s what you want, sweetheart.”

Eddie’s heart is hammering. Steve hovers there, one hand on Eddie, the other on the doorhandle. Finally, he opens the door and leads Eddie slowly into his room.

“There’s some things I…I want to…” Steve flaps a hand, brings it to his mussed hair, pushes it back. “I want to tell you some things. Is that…ok?”

Eddie nods, and Steve closes the door behind them.

Chapter Text

Eddie pauses by the end of Steve’s bed. He’s not entirely sure where to sit, knows that Steve is particular about his bed and who touches it, that he only gets under the sheets when he’s got clean clothes or pajamas on.

“I can just sit on the floor if you like,” he offers, because he honestly doesn’t care, he just wants Steve to be comfortable with him in his space.

Steve eyes him for a moment, fingers twisting in the fabric of his white t shirt. Wordlessly, he goes to his drawers and pulls out a blanket, unfolding it and laying over the covers on his bed. He pats it gently, indicating for Eddie to sit down.

Steve sits, too. He strokes Frodo, the cat curled up by his pillows. The light is off, but there’s a healthy glow from the full moon outside.

For a moment, they’re quiet. Steve traces the edge of the blanket, looking down at his hands.

“How’re you feeling?” Eddie asks quietly.

Steve shrugs.

Eddie nods, and waits.

Steve had said he wanted to talk, but Eddie knows he may have changed his mind. Or, he might just be taking a while to gather his thoughts, to form the words he’s wanting to say. Eddie doesn’t mind – he’s learnt a lot about patience these past few weeks.

When Steve does finally talk, his voice is quiet, shaky.

“Do you think…do you think it’s weird? That I’m…friends with a bunch of kids?”

Eddie closes his eyes for a moment.

If he ever gets his hands on Billy Hargrove, he’s going to fucking kill him.

“No, sweetheart,” Eddie promises. “You’re good with kids. You seem comfortable around them, and they love you.”

“But is that…” Steve continues to fiddle with the blanket, twisting it between two fingers. “Is that…bad?”

“Steve…” Eddie runs a hand across his broad back, tracing gentle patterns there. “Please don’t listen to what Billy said. The guy’s an asshole, and he doesn’t know what he’s talking about. You’re not handing out candy to random kids, you’re feeding the squirrels with kids that you know, that you’ve babysat, whose parents love you and are obviously happy for them to be around you.”

“But…most people, they…they have friends their own age, and they don’t hang around a bunch of kids in their spare time.”

“You do have friends your age,” Eddie insists, “Me, Robin, Chrissy…”

Steve’s head snaps up slightly at that. “Is that what we are? Friends?”

Eddie flinches. “Well…we’re more than that, I suppose, but I’m still your friend. What do you want us to be, Stevie?”

“I…” Steve’s fingers dance across the top of Eddie’s hand. “I like…this. What we are. I don’t want to just be friends.”

And hell, that’s been obvious for weeks, they’d crossed that line a while back, but Eddie still feels warm all over.

“You like me, huh? Got a big old crush on me, Stevie?” his tone is light, teasing almost, and he nudges Steve gently, grinning when the boy crinkles his nose and flushes red in the moonlight.

Steve nods, smiling shyly.

Eddie flips his hand up, and cradles Steve’s in his. “Back at you, sweetheart.”

Silence falls over the room again, but it’s more comfortable now, Steve trailing his index finger across Eddie’s palm.

“Steve?” Eddie says eventually, and the boy looks up again. “Did you still want to tell me something? It’s ok if you don’t, just…whatever it is, it’s ok, yeah? You can tell me anything.”

Steve’s face clouds, and Eddie squeezes his hand. He can see Steve’s cheek moving, thinks he’s probably gnawing on the inside of it, so he reaches across and gently tilts Steve’s face towards him.

The bruise on his jaw shines in the yellow glow. Eddie wishes he could take it away, would happily wear it himself rather than see it marring Steve’s face for a moment longer.

“My mom died in a car crash,” Steve whispers. His brown eyes are locked on Eddie’s now, and he doesn’t look away when he talks. “I was a kid. Dad was driving. It was late. We’d been out for dinner with some of the people from dad’s work. It was loud, some of them were drunk. I didn’t like it. I didn’t have my headphones back then, I wasn’t allowed them, and there was…there was too much going on, dad was angry because I wouldn’t talk to any of his friends, and because I wouldn’t sit still…”

Eddie’s thumb strokes over Steve’s hand as he talks, the boy not breaking stride now that his words were tumbling out.

“I just wanted to get home. I was crying, I think, and dad hated that. I think I was…making noises, because he kept telling me to shut up. Him and mom were arguing. Dad wanted to stop at the office on his way home, said he’d left something there, but that meant longer in the car and longer till we got home, and mum was angry at him because she wanted to get home so I’d shut up. And I…I starting screaming. I couldn’t stop. I was crying, and kicking dad’s seat, and they were yelling at each other and they wouldn’t stop.”

Steve’s breathing picks up, and Eddie winds his free arm around his waist, soothing him as best he can. With the moon watching on, Steve continues.

“It was my fault,” Steve stammers. “The crash, it…dad turned around to yell at me. He took a hand off the wheel, he was trying to slap me. And he jerked the steering wheel, went straight into a barrier.”

Eddie’s heart clenches in his chest. Steve blinks, a tear rolling down his cheek.

“The car flipped. And I was stuck there, upside down, I couldn’t…I couldn’t get out, and mom and dad weren’t answering when I tried to yell for them. There were all these sirens, and people yelling, and shining torches, and flashing lights, and people were trying…they were trying to talk to me, but I just wanted them all to be quiet…” Steve’s voice hitches.

“Oh, sweetheart,” Eddie murmurs, shuffling closer to him.

“It took them hours to get me out. Had to wait for the equipment to cut the car. And it was so loud. And mom and dad still weren’t answering me. And then they got me out, and my head was hurting, and I just wanted to go home, there were too many lights, I think I was screaming again, and the cops…they held me down. Think they were worried I’d run. But it hurt, and I just wanted to see mom, but they wouldn’t let me. They took me to the hospital. Must’ve…sedated me, or something. And when I woke up, they told me…about mom.”

“I’m sorry,” Eddie whispers, “I’m so fucking sorry.”

“Dad changed after that. Never liked me much anyway, but after that it was like…like I didn’t exist. He ignored me, starting going away on longer and longer trips for work. It was sort of nice at first. The house was quiet. I could watch the TV shows I wanted to, play my music in the kitchen, but…after a while I got lonely. And hungry, because I didn’t know how to cook. I had to…learn. And it took me a long time. But that’s how I learnt to bake as well. And I’d spend all this time making food. I’d freeze stuff. So that when dad came home he’d have nice things to eat. And then maybe he’d stay. And maybe he’d…talk to me again.”

Eddie’s crying now. For the boy next to him, for the younger version of him, treated cruelly and misunderstood and left alone to navigate a world that was already difficult enough for him.

“But he didn’t eat, really. Mostly he just drank. And so I started taking food to the neighbours. To school, sometimes, and I’d give it away. And people liked it. It…made them happy. So I kept doing it. Got better and better at it. And then dad told me I had to get a job. Said he wouldn’t keep funding me to just sit around the house. He knew the manager of this mall, got me a job at an ice cream place. Where I met Robin. But I didn’t have time to bake so much then. But Robin…she didn’t like my dad. How he treated me.

Eventually, she convinced me to rent a place with her. Dad had been away for work for over a week when I moved out. I haven’t…seen him since. He transferred me my inheritance money from mom on my next birthday. And then nothing. Which I suppose isn’t a bad thing. I don’t really want to talk to him, and he probably never wants to see me again, not after…everything.”

“Steve,” Eddie breathes, turning to face him. Steve blinks back at him, eyes wide, honest. “You know none of what happened was your fault, right? The accident, your mom…it’s not on you.”

Steve frowns. “Well, it was my fault the car crashed. I distracted dad.”

“No, he looked away from the road. He was going to hit you which is…not fucking ok. Your dad crashed the car. Not you.”

“But -”

“No,” Eddie repeats, firmly. “It wasn’t your fault. It wasn’t.”

Steve swallows. Breaks eye contact, looks towards the window, thumb tracing a figure-of-eight on Eddie’s knuckle.

“Anyway, that’s why I don’t like sirens. Or cops. I wanted…wanted you to know. So you don’t just think I’m…weird.”

“I don’t think you’re weird, sweetheart,” Eddie murmurs.

Steve sniffs, wipes a hand across his face, gathering tears. He looks back to Eddie, the ghost of a smile on his face.

“I mean, I am kinda weird.”

Eddie relaxes, huffing out a small laugh. “Fine, sure, maybe you are a little weird. For the record, so am I.”

Steve’s brow furrows. “No, you’re not.”

“I am!” Eddie jostles him, smacks a kiss to the side of Steve’s head, revels when Steve laughs softly. “I’m the biggest fucking weirdo in town! You didn’t know? Your boyfriend’s a weirdo, Stevie!”

Steve glances up at him. “Say that again.”

“What, that I’m a weirdo? I’m a -”

“No,” Steve chuckles, tear tracks starting to dry on his cheeks. “…the other thing.”

Oh.

“…boyfriend?”

Steve nods.

“Is that ok?”

“Yeah. I want…I want that. I want you.”

Eddie brings his hand up to his mouth, kisses the back of it. “You’ve got me, sweetheart.”

Steve smiles. Eddie leans in, intending to kiss him, to brush the remaining tears from his cheeks, but Steve pulls away.

“No, I just threw up, you can’t kiss me,” Steve protests, flapping a hand at Eddie.

Eddie shrugs, because he didn’t really care right now, but if it upset Steve then he wouldn’t.

“I’ll go…I’ll go brush my teeth, ok?” Steve hops up, then lingers in the doorway, looking at the bed. “Do you…um. Do you want to stay? In my bed, I mean. Tonight.”

Yes.

Eddie’s almost vibrating out of his skin with how much he wants that, but only if Steve’s comfortable.

“You’re sure?” Eddie checks, and Steve nods. “Ok, well…do you want me to get changed, or anything?” Because if Steve hadn’t wanted him sitting directly on the bed, surely he wouldn’t want him under the sheets in these clothes, contaminated as they were in Steve’s eyes.

Steve flaps his hands again, makes his way to his drawers, pulls out a clean pair of sweatpants and a soft t shirt. He hands them to Eddie, a little shyly.

“Can you…”

Eddie takes them. “Sure.”

He changes right there, in full view of Steve. It’s not like he’s getting naked, he’s got underwear on, but standing there shirtless, hopping into Steve’s sweatpants and tugging the drawstring tight, he feels…exposed. Perhaps it’s the way Steve’s watching him, his gaze intense, not looking away when someone else might’ve.

It’s not until he’s finished that Steve finally glances away, cheeks fiery red.

“Happy?” Eddie asks with a grin, and Steve nods.

“I’ll go…I’ll go brush my teeth. Now.” Steve all but scampers from the room, and Eddie lies back on the bed.

It’s more comfortable than his own, and far better than the couch, not that that mattered – if Steve wanted to sleep on the damn floor, then Eddie would happily join him there. But it was well made, crisp sheets tucked in tightly, and Eddie wriggles gently under them, trying not to untuck the sides too much. Frodo shifts, adjusting himself around Eddie and settling in the crook his legs make.

When Steve returns, he pauses in the doorway, eyes on Eddie.

“Steve?” Eddie asks tentatively. “This still ok? I can leave, if you want.”

Steve shakes his head, shifting from foot to foot. “No, it’s just…you’re, um. You’re on my side.”

“Oh, sorry.” Eddie shuffles to the other side of the bed, then pats the free space next to him.

Steve joins him. Carefully at first, slowly, clearly a little thrown off by having someone in his bed with him, in the space that’s entirely his. But he settles in the sheets, then rolls over to face Eddie.

Gold skin glows in the moonlight, and Eddie aches to reach over and touch.

After a moment, Steve breaks into a smile.

“Hi,” he whispers.

Eddie bites his lip to contain his grin. “Hi, Stevie.”

And then Steve’s leaning in, pressing his mouth to Eddie’s, and he tastes like peppermint toothpaste and salt from where tears dried on his upper lip. Eddie slings an arm across his waist, brushes his thumb soothingly across bruised skin, and pours every ounce of love he’s got into that kiss.

Chapter Text

Morning comes, and Eddie wakes slowly to the intoxicating feeling of Steve’s warm skin pressed against his.

Carefully, he turns his head, smiling stupidly at the boy asleep on his chest. Steve’s hair is mussed, his mouth slightly open, eyelashes fluttering a little in his sleep. The bruise on his jaw has blossomed into a dark blue, and Eddie winces in sympathy, feels another wave of hatred towards Billy fucking Hargrove.

But it’s hard for any negative feelings to stick around when he’s got Steve curled into him like this.

Eventually, Steve blinks awake, stretching, the morning sun making his honey eyes shine.

“Hi,” Eddie smiles.

“Hi, Eds,” Steve murmurs, voice hoarse with sleep as he mirrors their words from last night.

“Sleep ok?”

“Mmm.”

“How’re you feeling? Your face, and your stomach?”

“Not so bad.”

“Good.”

Eddie leans in and kisses him, because he can. Morning breath be damned – Eddie kisses him until Steve has to pull back just to breathe.

“What do you want to do today?” Eddie asks, afterwards.

“Monday’s for groceries.” Steve’s finger traces over Eddie’s upper arm as he talks. “And lunch at Chrissy’s.” His brow furrows. “But I don’t know if I can go out. Like…like this.”

“Because of your bruises?”

“Yeah.”

“No, that asshole doesn’t get to do that,” Eddie seethes, and takes Steve’s hand in his.

“Do what?”

“Make you feel like you need to stay in the house, make you afraid to be seen.” He kisses Steve’s hand. “If groceries and lunch out is what you want you to do, then that’s what we’re doing.”

They’re up just in time to wave Robin off for her shift at the library, and she takes a moment to inspect Steve’s face and tell him to get some arnica cream from the store for the bruise. If she’s surprised to have seen Eddie walk out of Steve’s bedroom, she doesn’t say so.

Steve eats his breakfast slowly, still a little quieter than usual, but Eddie’s content at the fact that he’s at least eating something. Eddie vacuums for him, since it’s Monday and Monday’s are for vacuuming, and Steve sits in the lounge with his headphones on, watching Eddie with a soft expression.

After that, they meander their way to Chrissy’s, hand in hand. Eddie’s borrowed another top from Steve, thinks he never really wants to wear his own anymore because they don’t smell like Steve. Yet.

Chrissy greets them as enthusiastically as ever at the café, but her face immediately falls at the sight of Steve’s injured face. He ducks his head shyly, mumbling out a ‘hello’ and hovering half-behind Eddie at the counter.

“Steve! What happened?” Chrissy exclaims.

Steve shifts from foot-to-foot, eyes landing on the menu on the wall even though he probably knows it by heart. “Just um…some guy at the market yesterday.”

“Someone…did this to you?” Chrissy gasps, lowering the mug of coffee she’s halfway through pouring and approaching them.

Steve nods.

“Who was it?” Chrissy reaches across and pats Steve’s hand where it’s resting on the counter.

Steve falls silent, and Eddie steps in, because he’s not allowing Steve’s attacker to remain unnamed. He’ll tell the whole damn city, if Steve will let him.

“Billy Hargrove,” Eddie says, the name acid in his mouth.

Chrissy’s eyes dart between the two of them. “Max’s brother?”

“Yeah.”

“Do the police know?”

Eddie nods. “They’re looking for him.”

“I’m so sorry, Steve,” Chrissy tells him softly. She makes his usual caramel latte and toasted sandwich, puts Eddie’s chocolate muffin in a bag then slips in two cookies as well, refusing to take Steve’s money for them. “No, they’re on me,” she insists.

Pausing as he turns to leave, Eddie catches sight of a little sign on the counter.

Help wanted, part-time or full-time available.

Steve follows his gaze to the sign, nudges him gently.

“Hmm?” Eddie hums thoughtfully.

Steve gestures to the sign, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah,” Eddie answers his wordless question, “I’m just…thinking.”

“You want a job, Eddie?” Chrissy asks brightly. “We really need some staff, we had two quit last week.”

Eddie thinks for a moment longer. He doesn’t enjoy his current job – his boss is a dick, the pay’s miserable, and he doesn’t like it taking up his whole evenings. But, there was the question of –

“Is it weekend work?” he asks Chrissy, because there’s no way he wants to give up his time spent at the market.

“Sometimes,” Chrissy replies, “but I’m sure we could work something out if you’re not available then. There’s plenty of hours available during the week as well.”

Next to him, Steve’s smiling.

Eddie nods. “Yeah, um…maybe. Can I think about it for a day or so?”

Chrissy grins. “Sure can. Let me know when you’ve made your mind up.”

With that, Eddie and Steve leave the café, heading towards Steve’s favourite park. They take their seats at the bench, Steve automatically reaching into his pocket and tossing almonds to the waiting squirrels.

They eat quietly, Steve chewing a little gingerly with his sore jaw. Several walkers pass them, one lady throwing a strange look at Steve, her gaze lingering on his bruised face. Eddie makes a point of staring back at her until she looks away, embarrassed, and carries on.

Just as he’s finishing his coffee, Steve’s phone rings. He fishes it out of his pocket, frowning down at the display before answering.

“Hello?...Oh, hi Chief.” He’s quiet for a moment, listening to whatever Hopper’s telling him. “Ok. Did you…did you see Max? And…and she was ok?”

Eddie swallows the last of his muffin and takes Steve’s empty cup from his trembling hand, worried he’s going to drop it.

“Ok. Thanks.”

Steve ends the call and takes a shaky breath.

“It was Hopper,” he tells Eddie. “He arrested Billy, they’ve got him down at the station now.”

Eddie nods, thrilled at the news. “Good. It’s where that asshole belongs.”

“He said Max was upset. But…for me, not because of Billy being taken away.” Steve sounds almost…confused by his own words, and Eddie’s about to reassure him when Steve’s phone dings with an incoming message.

He looks down at it again, quiet for a moment.

“It’s Max,” he says.

“What’d she say?”

Steve tilts his phone so that Eddie can see.

Max, 1236 – i’m sorry about Billy. Hopper said he hurt you

Steve types out a reply.

Steve, 1238 – It’s ok. Shouldn’t you be at school?

Max, 1239 – im sick

After a moment, another message comes through.

Max, 1243 – your a better brother than hes ever been

That brings a soft smile to Steve’s face. He sends a reply off to Max, puts his phone away, and sniffs.

“You ok?” Eddie murmurs.

Steve nods. Tosses his last almond to a squirrel, watches it eat.

“This is good, ok? Billy deserves what he’s getting, and Max is ok.”

Steve doesn’t reply to that. His eyes follow the squirrels as they scamper through the grass.

“You want to work at Chrissy’s?” he asks Eddie, blatantly steering the conversation away from Billy.

Eddie doesn’t mind. “Yeah. I mean, I’ve never worked in a café, never worked anywhere that’s like…nice, but I’ve worked in plenty of bars, so I should figure it out pretty quick. And if I don’t have to work weekends, well that’s perfect, right? And Chrissy’s nice.”

“Lucas and Erica’s mom works there too,” Steve tells him. “You met them at Dustin’s birthday.”

“I remember. Erica yelled at me when I accidentally popped that My Little Pony balloon. She’s kinda scary,” Eddie chuckles, remembering the death-glare the girl had given him when Eddie had sheepishly held up the deflated remains of the pink balloon.

Steve snorts out a laugh. “Should’ve seen the look on Dustin’s face when she turned up with those balloons. She made the boys inflate every single one.”

With lunch finished, they make their way to the grocery store. Steve lingers outside for a moment, dragging his feet and wringing his hands, clearly nervous to go inside where people might stare at him, where Joyce would definitely say something.

“Steve?” Eddie prompts. “You want to save this for another day?”

Steve frowns and shakes his head. “No. It’s Monday. Monday’s for groceries.”

With that, he strides inside, keeping his head down. Eddie holds the basket for him as Steve wordlessly fills it. He’s methodical, following a strict route up and down the aisles, ticking off a mental checklist of items as they go and loading up Eddie’s basket with them. Despite the store being quiet, his headphones are on today, and Eddie frequently brushes a comforting hand over his back.

Finally, they’re ready to head to the checkout. Eddie taps Steve on the arm, and the boy lifts one side of his headphones so he can hear him.

“Want me to pay, and you can wait outside?” Eddie offers, giving Steve a chance to avoid the attention he’s going to get from Joyce at the counter.

Steve shakes his head. “Want her to know I’m ok. That Billy…that he didn’t win.”

Eddie squeezes his hand, proud.

Joyce gives them a sad smile at the counter. She’s obviously heard the basics of what happened from Hopper, but it doesn’t stop her from gasping at the sight of Steve’s injured face when he turns his head.

“Oh, sweetheart,” she sighs. “I’m so sorry about what happened.”

Steve hums, and starts placing his items carefully up on the checkout belt.

“Do you have…” Steve frowns, furrows his brow. “Arnica cream? Robin said it was good for bruises.”

“It wasn’t on the shelf? By the first aid stuff?” Joyce asks.

Steve shakes his head.

“We must be out. But the pharmacy will have it, over on Green Street.”

Steve nods, a little shakily. “I’ve never been there though.”

Joyce pauses partway through scanning a bag of flour, then a look of understanding passes over her face. “So, you know where the Chinese restaurant is? We went there for Will’s birthday last year?”

Steve thinks for a moment, then nods again.

“It’s just opposite that. And it’ll be open until five today. So, you go in, and you’re gonna head to your right, go past the painkillers, past the bandages, and arnica cream should be right around there.”

Eddie can practically see Steve forming the mental map in his mind, making the unfamiliar place just a little easier to navigate.

They bag up the groceries, accept an invitation from Joyce to go around for dinner when Steve’s up to it, and head towards the Green Street Pharmacy.

Steve’s headphones are firmly back on when they go inside, and he beelines to the right-hand wall, just as Joyce had instructed him. He grabs the arnica cream, shifts from foot-to-foot as they wait in the line, two fingers fiddling with the hem of Eddie’s shirt. The man at the checkout raises his eyebrows at Steve, and glances between him and Eddie, clearing his throat. Steve slides his headphones down to loop around his neck.

“Sir,” the man says gently to Steve, then throws a pointed look at Eddie – Eddie in his torn jeans, his hair half-falling out of his ponytail, pack of cigarettes poking out of his pocket. “Are you ok?”

Steve nods.

The man’s frown deepens, and he leans across the counter, holding a hand up when Eddie tries to speak.

“Are you sure? Would you like to speak in private? I can get you help, if you need it.”

Steve stares at the counter, rocking on the spot, becoming agitated.

“Ok, I see how this looks,” Eddie cuts in, “but it isn’t -”

“I wasn’t talking to you, sir,” the man interrupts, then turns back to Steve. “If you’re a victim of domestic violence, you don’t have to stay quiet. We can help.”

“He’s my boyfriend,” Steve mumbles, eyes drifting to the colourful signs around the checkout, advertising vaccinations and hearing tests and sleep aids. “He doesn’t hurt me.”

“He got assaulted yesterday, by an asshole who’s now sitting in a cell,” Eddie grits out. He understands that this man is just concerned, that he’s probably seen plenty of battered women and maybe a few men in here before, but even the suggestion that he’d put his hands on Steve like that is making him sick to his stomach.

“Is that true?” the man asks Steve.

Steve nods. He curls his hand into Eddie’s, leaning in closer to him.

“It’s alright,” Eddie murmurs to him.

The gentle display must’ve been enough to convince the man, because he hands over the receipt and the cream with an apology.

“It’s fine,” Eddie says, but it’s laced with annoyance.

As they walk out, he wraps an arm around Steve’s waist, holds him gently, tucked up close, still broiling over the insinuation that he could ever hurt this boy.

“Eddie,” Steve says softly, when they’re halfway back to the apartment.

It’s the first time either of them had spoken since leaving the pharmacy, Eddie clenching his jaw the whole way, patting over Steve’s back and side – he wasn’t sure whether he was trying to comfort Steve, or himself, or both, but he couldn’t help it.

“Mmm?”

“It’s ok,” Steve tells him. He looks up at him, eyes warm and earnest.

“I hate that…that people think of me like that. Like I’d be capable of hurting you.”

“I know you’d never. So do our friends. No one else matters.”

Eddie clutches his hand tighter, swallows thickly, and nods. Realistically, Steve’s right, but it still wears away at Eddie’s heart.

Back at the apartment, Frodo greets them at the door, and Eddie bends down to pat him before setting the bag of groceries on the bench. Steve follows him, then places a hand on the bench on either side of Eddie, effectively pinning him there.

Steve cups Eddie’s cheek. His breath is warm against Eddie’s face, his strong thighs pressed up against his, his cheeks flushed from the cool air outside.

He’s so beautiful that Eddie can barely breathe.

“I’m so glad I met you,” Steve whispers, and then he’s kissing him, slow and sweet. Steve’s mouth moves from his lips, brushes over his cheeks, the end of his nose, before he lets his head tip forward to lean against Eddie’s neck, lips warm on the top of his collarbone. “Best thing that happened to me,” he mumbles. “Don’t care what anyone else thinks.”

“Stevie…” Eddie breathes, brings a hand to the back of his head, lets his fingers sink deep into soft locks. “I love you.”

Steve’s grip on Eddie only tightens.

Chapter Text

“I’m thinking about finding a bigger place,” Steve blurts out over dinner the following night.

Eddie quit his job a few hours ago. Phoned his boss, told him he wasn’t coming back, and then marched down to Chrissy’s with an encouraging Steve in tow, and accepted a job there. He’d be working every weekday from 8am till 2pm. The early starts would take a little getting used to, but at least it meant his afternoons would be free to spend with Steve, and his weekends too. Plus, Steve could easily walk down and visit him at work whenever he wanted.

Eddie pauses with his fork part way to his mouth, glances over at a wide-eyed Robin.

“You’re…what?” Robin says slowly.

Steve picks at his food, looking down at his plate. “Well, I thought…thought I’d find somewhere with another room. So that…” he sneaks a look up at Eddie, looks down again. “Eddie could…move in. If he wants to. But you don’t have to. It’s just…never mind. Sorry.”

Eddie blinks a few times. He’d love to move in, he just hadn’t been expecting Steve to ask him so soon, or to blurt that out over dinner with Robin.

“Steve…” Robin sits her fork down, leans across the table towards him a little. “You know, if you want Eddie here, I can always…find my own place. It’s ok, I’ll understand -”

“No,” Steve says sharply, shaking his head. “Want you both to live with me. Which is why we need something bigger. I can afford it. I was…talking to Chrissy. While you were doing paperwork.” Steve gestures briefly to Eddie. “She’s interested in selling some of my baking in the café. And I have the inheritance money. So…don’t worry. About the cost.”

“Well, we’d help,” Eddie insists, “I mean…I can, help with the rent or something?”

Steve pauses, fixing Eddie with a serious gaze now. “Don’t want to rent again. I want to buy.”

“Are you sure?” Robin asks. “I know you like this place, and you’re settled here.”

Steve’s chewing his lower lip, but he nods. “Been thinking about it for a while. You can…you can have space for your books. And I need a bigger kitchen. And we could…have a backyard. Maybe Wayne could help us plant some things. And Frodo can have room to play. And Eddie, you could have your own room, or…” His cheeks burn red. “…or we could…share, and we’d have a spare room. For if any of the kids need to stay over. Or Wayne.”

“Steve…if that’s want you want to do, then I’m all in, sweetheart,” Eddie practically purrs. He knows Wayne will miss having him around, but they barely see each other at home as it is, with Wayne working nights and Eddie spending most of his time with Steve.

“Really?” Steve’s face lights up.

“Hell yes, sign me up.” Eddie grins.

Steve turns to Robin next.

“I can get a big bookcase?” she asks, ideas clearly starting to take hold.

Steve nods.

“And…and can we have, like…a little sunny area, with a window seat, where I can read and gaze longingly out the window and wait for the love of my life to stumble upon me?”

Steve snorts and shrugs. “Sure. If you think that’ll work.”

Robin smacks his shoulder lightly, then smiles again. “I’m in. If you’re sure.”

“Yes. It needs to be close by. To the park, and to Chrissy’s. I don’t want to go somewhere different. So it might take a while. But we can start looking at listings.”

“Oh my god, we can go to open homes,” Robin claps her hands. “I’ve always wanted to do that. Wander around them, pretend I can afford even a single room, ask questions like…like is the whiteware new? When was the carpet laid? What’re the neighbours like?”

Steve smiles as Robin continues to talk excitedly. He shares a look with Eddie across the table, soft and sweet, and Eddie brings his fork back to his mouth, taking a bite of the pasta Steve had made them.

Eddie’s excited. He’s fucking thrilled, isn’t sure when or why the universe decided to drop so many good things in his lap, but he’s so grateful.

Frodo hops up on the table, dangerously close to Steve’s plate, and makes a swipe at his fork. Laughing, Steve scoops him up and plonks him back onto the floor.

“You’ve had your dinner, you can’t eat pasta buddy,” Steve’s murmuring to him.

Eddie loves him so fucking much.

He thinks just maybe, Steve loves him too - he just isn’t ready to get those words out yet.

That’s ok.

Eddie can wait.

*****

The week goes by quickly.

Eddie starts at Chrissy’s café. The work is far more pleasant than he’s used to – sure, he’s still dealing with dishes and the general public, but at least no one’s drunk, no one’s smelly and slobbering into a glass or yelling at him when he has to deny them more alcohol. He gets the occasional disapproving look from the older customers, but he doesn’t care – he only packs on the charm, talks to them sickly sweet, feels a sick sort of glee when it throws them off even more.

Chrissy’s lovely, as expected. She shows him the ropes and introduces him to the rest of the staff (Lucas and Erica’s mom immediately takes him under her wing, and Eddie sees the kids when they come in after school sometimes). Steve comes in every day now, sits at the nearest table to the counter watching Eddie work with a fond, almost dopey look on his face until it’s time for Eddie’s break, and then they take their food to the park and eat together.

On Friday after school, Max skateboards to the park. She’d messaged Steve, asked if she could see him. Steve had been hesitant at first, worried that she’d be upset with him over Billy, but Eddie had gently talked him around.

The bruise on Steve’s face is fading, but turning a sickly shade of splotchy yellow. Steve hates it, had shyly requested earlier that morning for Robin to cover it up with some concealer before meeting Max.

Now, Eddie and Steve are at the park bench, Max sitting between them.

She’s quiet. She’d taken a few almonds from Steve, tossed them to the squirrels, mumbled a few answers when he’d asked her about school, about the other kids.

Finally, she turns to face Steve, but her eyes are downcast still.

“I’m sorry,” she says quietly.

Steve shakes his head. “Not your fault.”

“It is.” Max swipes a hand across her face, angrily brushing away tears. “I was there when Hopper arrested Billy. He said it was for assaulting you. Billy was yelling, he was saying you deserved it, that you were hanging around kids in the park, that you were hanging around me, that I was always talking about you, that you were a…” Max whispers the next word, like it’s dirty, which Eddie supposes it is. “…pervert.”

Steve flinches.

“I told Hopper it wasn’t true. That you look after us sometimes. That my mom knows and doesn’t mind. I told him you teach us about squirrels, and you fix Dustin’s bike because the stupid chain always falls off, and that you let me come and watch movies with you and Robin when Billy was meant to be looking after me that time but got drunk and passed out instead.”

Steve nods, staying quiet, letting the girl talk.

“But…it was my fault. Because I talk about you a lot. And Billy…well. I’m why he thought those things. I’m why you got hurt. Sorry.”

“Not your fault,” Steve repeats, more firmly. “But I can see how…how Billy might’ve…thought those things. Gotten the wrong idea.”

“Don’t make excuses for him, Steve,” Eddie cuts in, because he’s not having that.

“No, I just…it’s ok, if you’re angry at me,” Steve tells Max solemnly. “For causing Billy to be taken away.”

Max scoffs. “I don’t miss him, if that’s what you mean. It’s nice at home without him. It’s…peaceful.”

The hint of a smile crosses Steve’s face. “Good. But…when he’s back, if he causes issues, you’ll tell me, right?”

Max hesitates for a moment, then finally nods. She goes to speak, then stops again, but it’s obvious there’s something else she wants to say. Steve waits, tossing another almond.

Eventually, Eddie prompts her. “What is it?”

She shakes her head. “It’s…embarrassing,” she mumbles.

Steve frowns. “What is?”

“Lucasaskedmetothemovies,” she blurts out, all at once. “But…just me and him. Not the others.”

Eddie hides a grin. Steve nods.

“Well, that’s…nice,” he manages, looking between Eddie and Max, not quite picking up on the nervousness rolling off the girl in waves.

“It’s weird!” Max hisses. “Like, why just me? Is it…is it a date?”

“Do you want it to be?” Eddie asks carefully.

Max crinkles her nose, but can’t hide the blush on her freckled cheeks. “No!” she exclaims. “Boys are…gross.”

“Hey!” Steve complains, but he’s smiling.

“Well I mean you’re not, I mean, like…you’re fine, but…” Max shifts in the seat, flapping a hand towards Steve, flustered now.

Eddie’s grin widens. He’s not the only one with a whopping crush on Steve, it seems.

“But what if he thinks it’s a date, what do I do?” Max is quieter now, avoiding eye contact.

“Well, it doesn’t have to be,” Eddie tells her. “You can just…go as friends, if that’s what you want.”

Max squirms in her chair again.

“…is that what you want?” Steve asks, frowning.

“I don’t know!” Max says exasperatedly. “How do I even know it is a date? What do you two do on…dates?”

“Well, mine and Steve’s first date was at the museum,” Eddie starts, but Steve tilts his head and cuts in.

“Was it? Was that…was that a date?”

Eddie turns to him, blinks a few times. “…wasn’t it?”

Steve shrugs, the picture of innocence. “I thought we were just going to the museum to see the mammal exhibit.”

Eddie tips his head back and laughs. “You know how much thought I put into my outfit?”

“Well, you looked nice,” Steve tells him.

“Well if you didn’t even know, how am I supposed to work it out?” Max throws her hands up and huffs.

“You could…ask?” Steve suggests, but Max gives him a withering look.

“Why don’t you just go along as friends, and see how it goes? I think you’ll figure it out pretty quick,” Eddie says. “Like…if he offers to buy your ticket, or pay for your popcorn, or he carries your things, or he seems nervous? It’s probably meant to be a date. But I mean, the fact that he’s only asked you makes it seem pretty likely that it is.”

Max nods slowly, taking in Eddie’s words. “Ok. And…if I don’t like it? And I don’t want to…um…date him?”

“Then you tell him that you like just being his friend, and would prefer if the others came along next time too. He’ll get the message.”

Max relaxes a little. “Ok. Thanks.”

“And if it goes terribly, then you can message, and I’ll come and pick you up,” Steve offers.

Max’s eyes turn watery again, but she sniffs, and turns away before any tears can fall. “I meant it, you know,” she mumbles. “You’re way better than Billy.”

*****

It’s Saturday, and the combined baking and produce stall has a line so long it’s had to wrap back around itself. The sun’s out, but it’s not too hot, and the weather’s drawn an even bigger crowd than usual.

Eddie, Steve, Robin and Wayne are churning through orders as quickly as they can. Steve’s quiet and focused, managing his stress levels well despite the amount of people they’re dealing with. Frodo’s at his usual spot atop the cooler, stretched out on his back in the sun. Dmitri had popped by earlier to see what all the fuss was about, and promised to come back after closing to speak to Steve – after all, they had a business proposal to discuss.

Eddie sets the “back soon” sign out on the table just before their lunch break, and they process the remaining orders through until the queue has died down.

But, just as they’re about to unpack their lunch, a ginger-haired girl barrels up to the table, short of breath.

“I’m so sorry, I see you’re just going on a break, but I ran here from work, everyone’s talking about this place and I really wanted to try the brownies, but I can come back tomorrow if -” her words are spilling out at a million miles an hour, and she’s so flustered that Eddie feels bad for her, is about to take her order despite being on a break when he’s shoved to the side none-too-gently by Robin.

“Hi!” she says, her eyes shining. “I’m Robin. What would you like? A brownie? Steve does make the best brownies, we’ve got…peanut brownies, we’ve got double chocolate, we’ve got raspberry…we’ve got some cream in the cooler too, if you like…STEVE! Pass the cream?”

The ginger girl is smiling, wide eyes fixed on Robin, and Eddie turns away, throwing a knowing grin towards Steve.

“A peanut brownie, please,” the girl says, leaning across the table towards Robin. “And I’m Vickie.”

Chapter Text

It’s Steve’s twentieth birthday tomorrow.

Eddie’s at Wayne’s place, under the guise of seeing him on his day off – but truthfully, he’s hunched over the tiny kitchen bench, glaring down at some instructions on his phone, the tip of his tongue poking just slightly out of his mouth.

Surely it can’t be this complicated to bake a cake, right?

The recipe says to cream the butter and sugar together – but what the fuck does that mean? Eddie had googled it, learnt that he needed to soften the butter, but ended up melting it completely in the microwave and they didn’t have any more to waste.

…it shouldn’t matter, right? Butter was butter, despite the consistency.

Eddie knows Steve would give him a withering look for that thought.

He beats the butter and sugar together until it forms a gritty sort of paste, and stares down at it suspiciously. He’s watched Steve bake enough times to sort of know what looks right and what doesn’t, and this…isn’t looking great.

The front door opens, Wayne toeing his boots off at the door and stepping inside.

“How’s the cake-making going?” he queries.

Eddie groans in response.

Wayne’s mouth quirks. “That bad, huh?”

“Maybe I just should’ve bought one,” Eddie grumbles. But cakes are expensive, and he wants to put in the effort of making one himself.

“Nonsense. Can’t be that bad, give us a look.” Wayne approaches, looking over Eddie’s shoulder at the bowl. “Huh,” he manages.

Eddie frowns at him. “Very encouraging, thanks.”

Chuckling, his uncle pats him on the shoulder. “It’ll be fine. Just don’t burn it.”

“Have we got any raspberries? I wanted to make, like…a coulis to have with it.”

Wayne smirks. “Oh, a coulis, huh? When’d you get so fancy?”

“Lay off, old man,” Eddie retorts. “Steve makes it sometimes. He taught me once.”

“I’ll go see what I can find for ya.”

Eddie continues working away, finally getting something at least resembling a cake into the oven. He watches it cook, chewing his lip, hoping against hope that it’ll be at least somewhat decent. And maybe this is a stupid idea, making a cake for the guy that’s literally a master at making cakes, but Eddie wants to do something special. He’s got him a gift, of course – it’s wrapped up and sitting by the door – but he’s determined to do this, too.

In the end, he doesn’t burn the cake. It’s a little sunken in the middle when he lifts it out, but it smells good at least. He snaps a picture, sends it off to Robin with a few question marks.

Robin, 1708 – Well…..it’s definitely a cake.

Eddie, 1709 – wow thnks

Robin, 1711 – Just shove some icing on it, it’ll be fine.

Eddie, 1713 – it needs to be perfectthough

Robin, 1714 – Steve will love it, seriously. He’s so gone for you it’s a little gross.

Eddie, 1716 – you can talk, you’ve spoken about nothing but Vickie for the last two weeks

Robin, 1717 – Because she’s perfect! She’s so smart, and she’s funny, and she doesn’t mind when I ramble about things because she does it too, and she likes the same books as me, and she said yes to a second date even after I’d gotten so nervous on the first one and spilt that drink all over her…

Robin, 1718 – I’m doing it again, aren’t I?

Eddie – 1719 – yeah

Eddie, 1720 – but it’s ok, it’s kinda cute. I’m happy for you

Robin, 1721 – Thanks.

Robin, 1723 – Just checking, you at least didn’t mix up the salt and sugar, right? :p

Eddie, 1724 – nope, pretty sure I managed that at least

Robin, 1726 – Well done.

Eddie puts his phone away. Wayne helps him with the coulis, stirring the mixture of berries, sugar and water in a saucepan until it’s a thick, vibrant red consistency. They tackle the icing next, Eddie smoothing it over the cooled cake and decorating it with sprinkles. He draws a frosting cat in one corner, thinks it turns out pretty damn good and convincingly Frodo-like.

“You got any more open homes coming up?” Wayne questions, once they’re finished with the cake.

“Another on Sunday afternoon, so I was going to ask if you don’t mind packing up the stalls with me so Robin and Steve can go?”

Wayne waves a hand at him. “Sure can.”

While Eddie likes going along to view the houses, Steve and Robin were far more enthusiastic about it than him. Robin always had a million questions for the real estate agent, and she loved to dart ahead of them and look around every room. Eddie, well – he’d be happy with four walls and Steve, which was why he’d offered to stay behind at the market on Sunday.

They’d been to two open homes so far. The first house was on a street that was just too busy, Steve immediately agitated by the traffic and people noise. The second was better and had a large kitchen that Steve loved, but it was just a little too far from their current area, and Steve didn’t want to be too far away from his park, from Chrissy’s, from the kids.

This third one seemed promising, but Eddie didn’t want to get his hopes up too much just yet – they’d only been looking for a couple of weeks, after all.

Eddie has dinner with Wayne that night – they get take-out and down a few beers, and it’s nice. Eddie knows his uncle has missed this, has missed Eddie just taking up space and livening up his house, but Eddie’s ready. Ready to step out from under Wayne’s wing and move in with Steve. They’d already asked Wayne to help them landscape and plant in the backyard once they’re settled in to a new place, which he’d happily agreed to.

Later, Eddie returns to Steve and Robin’s place. He’s sharing Steve’s room now – ever since his first night in Steve’s bed, it was like something had moved between the two of them, and it was unspoken now that that was also Eddie’s space, that Steve wanted him there.

Besides, Eddie wants to wake up with Steve the next morning, wants to be the first to wish him a happy birthday, wants to kiss him soft and slow and sweet.

He’d messaged Robin when he’d arrived outside the house, and she’d successfully distracted Steve for long enough for Eddie to sneak inside and hide the cake at the back of a cupboard.

“It’s working fine, Robin,” Steve’s voice drifts out from her room as Eddie leaves the kitchen.

“Is it? Are you sure, because I swear it was stuck a second ago,” Robin replies.

Eddie finds them standing in Robin’s doorway, Steve frowning down at Robin’s doorknob and twisting it slowly.

“Really?” Steve asks skeptically.

“Mmm hmm,” Robin nods, then catches sight of Eddie. “Huh, well, seems fine now, never mind! Thanks for checking!” She waves Steve away a little too enthusiastically, and he shakes his head, confused, and turns to see Eddie.

His face relaxes into a smile.

“Hi,” he says softly.

“Hi,” Eddie mirrors, as was now their habit.

The three of them spend the evening in front of a movie – one of Steve’s choosing, since it’s his birthday tomorrow. It’s a romance, another gooey-sweet Netflix original, but Eddie doesn’t care, just sits with Steve’s head in his lap and strokes his hair. Robin’s far less critical of it than she usually would be – argues it’s because she’s finally found the one in Vickie, and now she understands the appeal.

It’s later that night, once Steve and Eddie are in bed, that Steve rolls towards Eddie and asks what he usually does to celebrate his birthday. Eddie tells him about the pizza nights with Wayne, about how he’d go and drink with his band in Gareth’s garage – he always kept his birthdays low-key, he explained, because he often felt sad on the day.

“Why?” Steve asks, fingers playing with the hem of Eddie’s t shirt.

“I miss my mom more on that day,” Eddie says quietly. He traces a hand over Steve’s bicep, connecting imaginary lines between the moles dotting his skin. “My dad, he never put much effort in, sometimes he was even in jail for my birthday, but mom…she’d go all out.” Eddie smiles at the memory. “She’d make a cake, decorate it with these little edible flowers, and she’d blow up balloons and put streamers up around the house and cook my favourite meal. She bought me a book every year and we’d always read the first couple of chapters together in the evening.”

Steve hums, kisses Eddie’s shoulder. “She sounds amazing.”

“She was.”

Steve’s gaze finds Eddie’s, his eyes wide and imploring. “What happened to her?” he whispers. “You don’t…you don’t have to tell me, if you don’t want to, but -”

“It’s ok,” Eddie hushes him. “She had a stroke. A massive one, out of nowhere. I came out of my room for breakfast, and she was…” Eddie sucks in a deep breath, lets it out slow. “She was on the kitchen floor. I rang an ambulance, but by the time they arrived she was already gone.”

“I’m sorry.” Steve squeezes his hand.

“I was angry for a long time,” Eddie tells him, voice shaking just a little. “Because she was so healthy, she was young, why her, you know? I barely spoke to anyone for nearly a year. Not my teachers, not my friends. Not even Wayne, when he adopted me. I just sort of…shut myself away. Wayne would buy me books, he’d ask me to come outside and help him in the garden, he’d offer to take me to see a movie, but it was like…like I couldn’t do anything except sit in my room and be angry.”

“I get it,” Steve assures him gently, and Eddie believes him. “What, um…what got you out of that state?”

Eddie swallows, curls his fingers around Steve’s. “I was coming back from school one day, and I walked up the path to the house, and I saw the planter boxes around the back. Full of all these flowers that had withered and died. Mom’s flowers, she’d planted them for Wayne, and he’d tried to keep them alive but he’s hopeless with flowers. And I must’ve walked past them every day coming back from school but it was like…like this day, I actually noticed them? And I went and found Wayne, and I asked him if we could replant something there. He was so damn happy that I’d said more than a few words to him that he immediately took us down to the garden store, bought us the easiest-care flowering plants he could find, and we planted them.”

“Did you keep them alive?” Steve asks, with a tiny smile.

Eddie laughs softly. “For a while. Wayne did his best, and we’d be out there every day after school watering or fertilizing or trimming. And then I started helping Wayne with the rest of his garden. We’d play music and stay out late during the summer and it was…nice. I felt like I could breathe again.”

Steve smiles, brushes his lips over the back of Eddie’s hand.

Eddie loves him.

“The flowers did die eventually. I think I overwatered them.” Eddie huffs out a small laugh. “Too much love, you know?”

Steve shakes his head. “You were just doing your best. I’m sure your mom appreciated it.”

“If there is an afterlife, she was probably watching down from there and laughing,” Eddie chuckles. “But I like to think she did, too.”

Steve leans in and kisses him softly, wipes away the tears that Eddie hadn’t even realized had spilled down his cheeks.

When Steve pulls away, he doesn’t go far – their faces only a few inches apart, moonlight dancing in his eyes, hair mussed and soft.

“I love you,” Steve whispers.

Eddie stares at him for a moment, at the boy he loves to death, and then grabs a handful of his t shirt and tugs him back to his mouth.

Deep inside him, something warm settles, and Eddie’s tears dry on his cheeks.

Chapter Text

By the time Eddie wakes in the morning, Steve’s already looking at him, a small smile at his lips.

Eddie rolls over, kisses him. He knows by now that his boy always wakes with the sun, hopes he hasn’t kept him waiting too long. Chrissy had allowed him a later start at work this morning, so he had a little time before he needed to get ready.

“Happy birthday,” Eddie murmurs into his mouth. “Want your present now, or later?”

“Is it more of this?” Steve asks, and presses himself closer to Eddie, mouth back on his.

“If you like,” Eddie chuckles, and splays his hand over Steve’s warm back under his t shirt. “I do have an actual present too, though.”

Steve hums, kisses him once more, then pulls back. “Now?”

Eddie grins, and releases Steve to retrieve the wrapped gift from his bag. For a moment, he pauses, looking down at the parcel, turning it in his hands.

“…Eds?” Steve prompts softly.

“Yeah, um…well, it’s not much, I wanted to get you something more but I don’t have a lot of money, and Wayne actually did a lot of the work but -”

“Eddie,” Steve interrupts, reaching for it. “I love it already, ok?”

 Eddie lets him take it, smiles softly, and sits beside him. He watches, still a little anxious, fiddling with the edge of the blanket for something to do while Steve meticulously peels back the wrapping paper.

Carefully, Steve pulls out a soft leather-bound book. He runs his fingers over his name, engraved in the middle of the cover, then opens it.

“It’s for recipes,” Eddie tells him quickly, as Steve thumbs through the blank pages. “I know you know most of yours by heart, but I thought you might like to write some down, or if you find new ones that you like you could…add them. And if you go to the second half of the book…” Eddie helps him turn towards the latter pages.

There’s several guides there for planting fruits and vegetables – when to plant, growing guides, which species interact well or poorly with each other – and Eddie’s added his own notes, neatly scribbled on the first few pages while Wayne offered him tips and advice.

“So that we can plant at the new house,” Eddie explains.

Steve’s quiet for a moment, eyes scanning the pages. Eddie glances sidelong at him, drumming the fingers of one hand against the bed.

“…do you like it?” he blurts eventually, unable to sit in the silence any longer.

A smile spreads slowly over Steve’s face. “I love it.”

“You do? I know it’s not much, but -”

Steve interrupts him by tugging Eddie to his mouth, swallowing the rest of his sentence.

“Thank you,” he murmurs, “I’m gonna write some recipes in here later.”

They start the day slowly. Steve makes pancakes with Eddie helping – Eddie offers to make them entirely himself, but Steve jokes that he wants something edible for his birthday breakfast, then smiles to take the sting out of it. Robin’s awakened by the smell of the batter cooking, and she pulls Steve into a hug, kisses his cheek and then slides a gift across the counter for him.

It’s a set of ceramic measuring spoons, each with a sunflower design on the handle, and Eddie’s gotta admit they’re cute as fuck. There’s a small box of Steve’s favourite chocolates in there too, the expensive ones from the little store Eddie walks past on his way to Chrissy’s.

But the cherry on top of it all is the apron that Steve unwraps last - it’s a pale yellow with a sunflower print to match the spoons.

Steve loves it. He thanks Robin and puts it on, asking Eddie to tie the strap behind his back.

And Eddie…yeah, Eddie’s gonna thank Robin for this too.

He’s struggling to keep his hands to himself, because Steve’s grinning and his hair is still sleep-mussed and he’s got a spatula in hand and a fucking sunflower apron around his middle.

But for Robin’s sake, he wrestles his hands back to his sides once he’s shakily fastened the strap.

Later, Steve joins Eddie for lunch as he always does. Chrissy shouts him his food, throws in a jelly-filled donut as well, and waves them off to the park.

Steve chats away as he eats. About open homes, about the recent listings he’d seen online, about Max who’d messaged and told him Lucas had asked her out again. He tosses almonds as he talks, pauses as he watches the squirrels collect them, then resumes again.

Eddie stares at him. He tries not to, but here under the midday sun, in his pastel-yellow polo and a hint of jelly on his upper lip, Steve’s stunning.

Eddie’s so in love it hurts.

“…and Dmitri texted, he’s booked the space next to us for his stall this weekend,” Steve’s saying, pausing to chew a bite of his donut. “I’m trying to think of more recipes I can use his nuts in. And then I thought maybe I could make almond flour, so we can have more alternatives for gluten-free people. Did you know that you can just substitute normal flour for almond flour in most recipes? Well, not things like bread, but most baking is fine. But I need to talk to him about that, because it would use a lot of almonds…”

Eddie nods along, fights the urge to just kiss the powdered sugar from Steve’s lips.

“…and the open home this weekend, did you know that Vickie’s mom is the real estate agent for it? Robin panicked when I told her, because she hasn’t actually met her yet but she wants to make a good impression anyway, so now she’s panicking over what to wear and she’s worried that she’ll talk too much.”

Eddie snorts out a laugh.

“So she’s decided to try and limit herself to asking just three questions, and she said if there’s more then I’m going to have to ask them, which is a bad idea because we all know what I’m like at talking to strangers.” Steve smiles, eyes crinkling at the edges.

It’s the first time Eddie’s heard Steve making light of his difficulty with communicating. He can’t help but think back to when they first met – when Steve could barely get a sentence out, when he was all darting eyes and burning cheeks and wringing hands.

The contrast to how Steve behaves around him now is enormous.

Eddie’s just happy that Steve feels safe enough with him to relax.

“Want the last bit?” Steve holds out the remaining piece of donut to him.

Eddie takes it in his mouth directly from Steve’s hand, tongue swiping quickly over the end of his fingers, tastes salt and sugar before Steve’s laughing and pulling his hand back.

“S’gross,” Steve complains, but he’s smiling and his cheeks are flushed.

Eddie only laughs and chews his donut.

After work, he presents Steve with the cake.

It’s…not the best, not compared to what Steve can make, but it’s certainly edible, especially with the coulis and a few spoonfuls of ice cream. Eddie’s nervous but Steve eats every last bit of his slice, kisses Eddie over the table while Robin fake-gags beside him. She laughs when Eddie flips her the bird and then cuts herself another small slice.

The kids come by after school and devour what’s left of the cake, and Eddie hears no complaints about the quality from them. They’d pooled together some money and bought movie vouchers for Steve (two vouchers, so that he can take Eddie or Robin with him) and a bag of treats for Frodo. El and Max immediately open the bag and start handing them out to the cat, encouraging him to sit up on his hind legs for them, until finally Steve confiscates the bag, grumbling that too many treats will make him fat.

Much later, Eddie kisses Steve as he falls asleep, only stopping when his eyes flutter closed and his face goes lax, and then he whispers that he loves him, he loves him, murmurs it for the stars and the night sky and for Steve’s sleeping heart.

*****

It’s Sunday afternoon.

Steve and Robin are at the open home, Eddie, Wayne and Dmitri packing up the stalls when Eddie’s phone rings. He hands an empty box to Dmitri and answers the call.

“Eddie!” It’s Steve, his voice loaded with excitement.

“Hey, Stevie,” Eddie smiles. “Open home go ok?”

“You have to come here now! It’s amazing, seriously it’s everything we wanted, you should see the backyard, and Robin’s basically already chosen a room, and it comes with the biggest oven I’ve ever seen, and…and I want you to see it.”

Steve’s words spill out rapidly, and Eddie’s gotta concentrate to take it all in. He promises he’ll be there shortly, and ends the call. His apology is waved off by Wayne and Dmitri, who are nearly finished with the packing up anyway, and then he’s in his van and on his way.

The street is quiet and tree-lined, and it’s only a few short blocks away from their current rental. As Eddie parks behind Steve’s beemer, he sees a squirrel run up the trunk of a tree right beside the for-sale sign, and he smiles.

Yeah, this is probably the one.

The house is warm and inviting. Eddie walks eagerly up the front steps, slides his shoes off and sits them next to a plant pot, and heads inside, brushing a hand along the duck-egg blue wall as he goes.

Steve runs to meet him in the hallway. His eyes are shining, hands flapping as he reaches for Eddie and tugs him into the lounge, where Robin’s sitting with the agent – Vickie’s mom.

“Look!” Steve exclaims, gesturing at the kitchen and leading Eddie over to inspect the oven.

And yeah, it’s…an oven, it’s certainly big, but Eddie doesn’t know shit about ovens – Steve’s saying something about the burners and demonstrating one of the switches and Eddie nods along and grins. Steve’s happy, and that’s more than enough for him.

They head back into the lounge – it’s cozy, with a fireplace in the corner, and Eddie can practically already see them having movie nights in here, with Steve sitting on the carpet next to the fire, Frodo on his lap, and Eddie sprawled out behind him.

Steve takes him by the hand out the ranch slider, across the little back porch, and out onto the grass. The backyard is large, and there’s already a semi-established vegetable garden along one fence, and a large orange tree in the back corner. Wayne wouldn’t have too much work to do, after all.

“Isn’t it perfect?” Steve says, a little breathless.

Eddie nods, eyebrows raised. “I mean…yeah, I think it is.”

“It’s not even over our budget, Lisa said – that’s Vickie’s mom – that she can get us a good price. And all the kitchen appliances come with it, and they’re basically brand new.”

Eddie squeezes his hand. “I can definitely see us here.”

Steve’s eyes light up even further. “You can?”

“Yes.”

Steve grins.

Eddie thinks there’s nothing he wouldn’t do to make this boy smile like that all the time.

“I’m going to put an offer in. There’s a few more things I need to check, but…I think it’s perfect.”

Steve’s practically vibrating on the spot, his hands moving as he talks and occasionally tugging at the hem of his t shirt. Eddie slings an arm over his shoulders and presses a kiss to the side of his head.

“Should we go back in and rescue Robin?” he whispers, huffing a laugh into Steve’s soft hair.

Steve chuckles and nods. They can see Robin through the window gesturing wildly as she talks to Vickie’s mom, the agent blinking and looking a little wide-eyed in the wake of Robin’s…word-vomit, as she calls it.

“…anyway, so I ended up working at the library, and I love it there although sometimes I do struggle a little with the emphasis on being quiet because sometimes I just – oh, hey guys!” Robin manages to snap her mouth shut as they re-enter the room, giving them a grateful look.

Lisa turns to them, looking a little…relieved. “What did you think of the backyard?” she asks Eddie.

“Yeah, looks great,” Eddie tells her genuinely.

She smiles, glancing between the three of them. “So…what are you thinking? Not that you need to make a decision immediately, but there has been a lot of interest in this property.”

Steve looks to Robin, then to Eddie, and nods.

He turns back to Lisa, and with only a small tremble in his voice, says,

“I’d like to buy it.”

Chapter Text

Moving day is…stressful.

Steve is quiet, moving between bags and boxes without a lot of purpose, opening one and then shuffling to the next without taking anything out, pausing to clench his fists at his sides. Frodo trails behind him, visibly torn between inspecting the boxes and sticking close to his charge.

Eddie knew this would be hard; any break in Steve’s routine was. But there was nothing else to be done – Wayne, Joyce, Vickie, Claudia, and Dustin had all turned up to help. Wayne’s pickup and Eddie’s van had transported the larger furniture, and Joyce and Claudias’ the smaller boxes – and now came the immense task of unpacking and rearranging.

Robin and Vickie are setting up Robin’s room, Claudia and Joyce putting away plates and cutlery in the kitchen. Dustin’s more interested in some of Eddie’s boxes, sitting cross-legged looking through DnD manuals and painted figurines Eddie had packed up from Wayne’s. Eddie’s uncle is in the garage, going through boxes of who-knows-what.

Eddie approaches Steve carefully. Places a gentle hand on his back, knows Steve can’t hear him with his headphones on. Steve jumps a little under his touch, turns and gives him a shaky smile, slipping his headphones down to rest around his neck.

“You ok?” Eddie murmurs.

Steve nods, then shrugs. Shakes his head.

Eddie hums, rubs his hand up and down Steve’s back. “What can I do?”

Steve pauses, eyes darting around the room, unable to focus on any particular thing for long. He doesn’t answer.

That’s ok – Eddie had figured Steve would struggle with words today.

“Is there anything you want to unpack first?” Eddie motions to the boxes lining the hallway.

Steve looks at the boxes, wrings his hands, shrugs again. Frodo curls around his feet.

Eddie tilts his head and thinks for a moment. Steve takes his hand, plays with the rings on his fingers absently.

“How about we get your bedroom set up first?” Eddie suggests. “That way, you’ve got somewhere to chill until the rest of the house is sorted.”

Steve looks up, smiles, but then frowns a little and mumbles something under his breath.

Eddie steps closer. “What was that, sweetheart?”

“Our room,” Steve whispers.

Eddie smiles, squeezes Steve’s hand in his. “Right. Our room. Come on then, grab a box.”

Steve’s happier with a task to focus on, with the bedroom door shut, the noise from the rest of the house reduced. Their bedroom is larger than Steve’s old one. It’s got a bay window that overlooks the backyard, sun streaming through it. Robin’s bedroom is at the front of the house, looking out to the street, and it’s got her coveted window seat and space for a bookcase just like she’d wanted.

Eddie puts his books away on a shelf by the wardrobe. He wipes dust off them as he goes – dust from Wayne’s house, from Eddie’s old bedroom that now sat empty and bare. Suddenly, he’s blinking back tears, but quickly wipes them away frustratedly. He’s happy, he’s officially moving in with Steve, he’s got a job he enjoys and new friends, and he’s got Steve.

Silently, Steve’s arms loop around his waist from behind.

Eddie reaches down, clutches a strong forearm.

“Sorry,” he mumbles, “I’m fine. Dunno why I’m…yeah,” Eddie chuckles, flapping a hand.

Steve holds him tighter, and presses a kiss to the back of his neck.

Eddie traces his fingers over the spines of his books. “It’s dumb,” he says eventually, “I’ve been living with you for a while now, but…my stuff was still at Wayne’s, and I’ve lived with him for so long, and now this feels…” Eddie pauses, brushes a thumb over Steve’s wrist. “Like something’s…ended? But it’s ok, because I’m starting something new, too. With you. And I’m so happy for that, I am, I just…I’m kinda sad too?”

Steve gently turns Eddie to face him. Eddie looks down, tears still spilling, until Steve cups his cheeks and wipes them away.

“It’s ok,” he whispers. “Can feel…whatever you need to. It’s ok.”

Eddie nods, smiles through his tears. “I love you.”

“Love you too.” Steve looks at him for a long moment, gaze so soft that Eddie almost squirms under it. “Can go back and stay with Wayne when you want. He’d like that.”

Eddie grins. “You mean you’d like having the bed to yourself now and then.”

Steve shakes his head, eyebrows knitting together, but he’s laughing. “Sure,” he says with a shrug.

Eddie laughs with him, tugs him close, hugs him amongst the boxes and bags, the contents of their lives strewn bare before them.

*****

Their first night in the new house feels a little strange. All of them are giddy, Steve still a little off-kilter but more settled now as they sit in front of the TV. Not everything is unpacked – there’s plenty more to do yet, but the basics are there. Steve had pre-cooked several meals to keep in the freezer, so they didn’t have to worry about cooking straight away. Claudia and Joyce had done a run to the grocery store for them already – Joyce knew Steve’s preferred brands by now, after all – and stocked up the pantry and fridge with whatever they were lacking.

Steve’s on the floor. Frodo’s on his lap, purring over the sound of the TV playing quietly in the background. Robin’s in the armchair half-draped over Vickie who’s staying the night, and Eddie’s sprawled on the couch behind Steve, one hand idly brushing through his thick hair.

None of them have to work tomorrow. Eddie and Robin took the day off, and Vickie had switched to an evening shift to have the day free.

Eddie’s got plans. A double date, one that the three of them are in on but not Steve – he knows they’re doing something, knows the timing and what to wear, because Eddie knows it would only stress him to not know at least that. Sure, there’s still stuff to unpack, still plenty to be done around the house, but they’ve got time for all that later.

But he trusts Eddie now. Is comfortable enough to go along with whatever Eddie’s got planned, in the knowledge that he’d never pick something that Steve wouldn’t enjoy.

As Steve relaxes back into his hand, Eddie smiles. His eyes start to drift shut, the busy day catching up on him now.

Surrounded by the people he loves, Eddie falls into an easy sleep.

*****

The zoo’s quiet at this time. It’s mid-morning on a weekday, after all, and Eddie had known this would be the best time to bring Steve.

Steve’s eyes are shining. As soon as they’d pulled up in Eddie’s van, Robin and Vickie spilling out hand-in-hand, his face had lit up with excitement.

“If you get sick of it, or you want to go home anytime, or you want to just take a break and sit somewhere -” Eddie starts to insist, but Steve shakes his head and brushes a stray bang back from Eddie’s face.

“Then I’ll tell you,” Steve promises. “But thank you, I love it here.”

They split up after a short time – Vickie wants to feed the farm animals, and Steve’s glued to the meerkat exhibit. Eddie sits on a wooden bench nearby while Steve leans over the railing, studying the little creatures closely. Every now and then, he points something out to Eddie, recites a meerkat fact from the recesses of his brain. Eddie’s not sure how he stores all that knowledge – Eddie can’t even remember what he had for lunch sometimes – but it’s one of the many things he loves about Steve.

“Hi, are you here for the feeding?” There’s a kind-looking girl in a staff uniform approaching, smiling at Steve.

He jumps a little, eyes darting between Eddie and the girl and then turning downcast. He curls in on himself a little, manages a shrug, shyness taking over.

Eddie goes to him. Gives the girl a quick smile, which she returns.

“Hey, do you want to?” Eddie asks him quietly.

Steve sniffs, hands twisting on the railing. “Don’t have to,” he mumbles, “don’t want you to be bored. Can go look at something else.”

“I’m not bored,” Eddie tells him. “It would be kinda cool to feed them. I’ll go in with you, and there’s no one else here anyway, so it’ll just be us.”

Eddie vaguely remembers seeing a timetable when they got tickets, various feeding times scribbled in chalk next to certain exhibits.

“Can we?” Steve asks softly.

Eddie smiles. “’Course. Come on.” He takes his hand, introduces them to the girl.

It only takes a few minutes for Steve to warm up to the zookeeper. Pretty soon, they’re trading meerkat facts back and forth, and Eddie’s content just to watch as they hand out dried insects to the little creatures. Steve grins when his fingers brush against soft fur, and he crouches amongst them while Eddie snaps pictures on his phone, sends them off to Robin and Vickie and Wayne.

A few hours later, Eddie’s been towed around to almost every exhibit, watching the animals while Steve reads the information boards. They meet Robin and Vickie again for lunch, ducks quacking for a share of their food.

“And then we fed the giraffes, and one of them just tugged the whole stick from Robin’s hand,” Vickie’s telling them.

“Ew, and it’s tongue was like…all over my wrist,” Robin gags through her bite of sandwich.

Steve snickers, taking a pickle out of his burger and flicking it onto Eddie’s plate wordlessly.

“Robin also got chased by a goose,” Vickie continues, “I nearly had to get a staff member.”

“It was so aggressive!” Robin exclaims. “Seriously, it had such an issue with me.”

Vickie’s laughing, almost in tears as she retells the story. “She was screaming and running in circles, until I managed to distract it with some food.”

Robin pouts. “Well, you’re just lucky it wasn’t after you.”

Vickie slings an arm around her waist and kisses her cheek until Robin dissolves into giggles as well.

Eddie glances at Steve. Sees him smiling at his best friend, and then he nudges Eddie’s foot with his under the table.

Yeah, Eddie thinks. Vickie might just be the one for Robin. She’d slotted into their lives seamlessly, and been patient while Steve had slowly gotten to know her and began to relax in her company. And Robin was smitten.

“We should come back here sometime,” Steve decides. “Bring the kids, they’d love it.”

“Sure we can.” Eddie hands him a tissue from the table when he notices Steve frowning at some sauce on his fingers, smiles dopily at him when he wipes it off. Steve leans over, pecks him on the lips in thanks.

“Also, there was a sign up somewhere about sponsoring an animal, maybe we could do that?”

“Maybe we could ask for Robin’s goose,” Eddie suggests, waggling his eyebrows at her across the table.

Vickie snorts into her drink, and Robin tosses a fry at him. Eddie grabs it off the table, stuffs it in his mouth, laughs at the way Steve crinkles his nose a little at the action.

A short time later, they’re returning to the car, Eddie hand-in-hand with Steve, and heading for home.

*****

“Why are these so heavy,” Eddie huffs, dropping a bag of potting mix down beside Wayne.

“Quit moaning,” Wayne waves a hand at him. “Hand me that trowel, will you?”

Eddie does as he’s told, then brushes soil from his hands, flicks hair off his sweaty neck. Looking up, he catches sight of Steve through the kitchen window, mixing bowl in hand and eyebrows knitted in concentration. Eddie blinks several times, eyes locked on the way Steve’s forearm flexes as he stirs, until Wayne taps him on the leg.

“Gonna help me, or just stare at your boy all afternoon?” Wayne grumbles, but then he’s smirking.

Eddie rolls his eyes and kneels down beside his uncle. “What do you want me to do?”

“Empty that potting mix in here, then we’ll put the seeds in.”

They work in silence for a few minutes, and then Eddie grabs the bag of seeds.

“What are these then? Carrots or something?” He frowns down at the packet.

Wayne clears his throat, rocks back on his heels. “Nope. Those are going over there,” he gestures towards the other side of the backyard. “These are, ah…”

“…wildflowers,” Eddie finishes for him, reading from the packet.

Wayne looks at him for a moment, then nods, turning back to the planter box. “Figured you might want to give it a go again. Have a part of your mom here in your new place.”

Eddie pauses, squeezing the packet tight.

Wayne continues. “That way, you can look straight out from the kitchen, and in a little while there’ll be flowers blooming right here. ‘Course, if you don’t want to, that’s fine. Maybe it was a stupid idea -”

“No,” Eddie interrupts. “No, I…I want to.”

Wayne nods, resumes making a little channel in the soil for the seeds.

“Think we can keep them alive this time?” Eddie chuckles lightly. He scrubs a hand across his face, probably leaves dirt on his cheek but he doesn’t mind.

“Well,” Wayne tilts his head. “I think we can give it a good shot.”

Eddie doesn’t notice Steve watching him from the kitchen window, a small smile on his lips. He’s busy poking seeds into the dirt, tongue poking out just slightly from between his lips as he concentrates.

This time, Eddie thinks.

This time, they’ll grow.

Chapter Text

Steve tosses an almond. Watches the squirrels scurry for it, throws a few more so there’s no squabbling between them. Frodo observes with quiet interest, sitting next to Steve’s feet and blinking sleepily.

He’s in the park, by the bench seat. His and Eddie’s spot. But he doesn’t sit, not yet – he’ll wait for Eddie. Wait for him to lay his bandana over the seat as he always does, wait for him to grin and hold his hands out in a flourish as he gestures for Steve to sit.

Eddie’s off grabbing something at another stall – a surprise, he’d told Steve. Had said him to meet him by the squirrels, and so here Steve is.

Opposite the maple tree, the one where several months ago Steve had curled up in the dirt and sobbed until Frodo’s paw found his leg, until Eddie wrapped an arm around his middle and Robin clung to his side, he waits.

It’s a Sunday afternoon. The market’s wrapping up, the baking stall long since sold out, Wayne and Dmitri having done another roaring trade beside them. The two of them were fast friends now, and Wayne doted on Mikhail just as he had a younger Eddie.

Eddie’ll be back at work at Chrissy’s tomorrow, and they’re planning on trialing some of Steve’s baking there for the first time.

Steve’s a little nervous about that. He knows his baking’s good, knows it does well at the market, but to have his food at an actual café? There’s butterflies tumbling around his stomach at the prospect of it. But Joyce and Claudia had promised to come along for lunch, and Chrissy had been nothing but encouraging. And Eddie would be there, too, so Steve knows it’ll be ok in the end.

The dream, one day, is a bakery all of his own. Robin and Eddie serving the public, maybe Vickie if she was interested, and Steve could spend his time out the back. Crafting new sweet treats, making old favourites, wiggling his hips in time to Bruce Springsteen, Frodo set up nearby and supervising. His friends would pop out the back often, checking in, Robin whispering and giggling to him about some customer, Eddie kissing his cheek then darting back out to the counter.

One day, it’ll happen. He’s confident about that. A short time ago, he’d never thought it possible – the idea of running his own business on that scale was too big, too daunting to someone who found himself wanting to hide away from the world more often than not.

Recent months had coaxed him out of his shell – not completely; nothing ever would – but enough that he was more confident, more sure of himself and his abilities. Robin and Eddie had done that – and Joyce, and Wayne, and Claudia, and Chrissy, Dustin and Max and the other kids, Hopper and Dmitri…Steve was surrounded now by a whole community of people he trusted, the family he’d never had.

He lets another almond slip from his fingers. Smiles as the smallest squirrel snatches it up and flees back to a tree trunk. Sunlight filters through the leaves from overhead, stirred by a cool breeze that tousles Steve’s hair. He gazes up, watching fluffy clouds through a gap in the trees. It’s peaceful here, away from the bustle of the market, and the traffic going by on the main road nearby. Here, he always finds it easier to breathe.

There’s a crunch of leaves behind him, a shuffle of shoes scuffing over the dirt path.

He doesn’t have to turn to know it’s Eddie – the other boy’s never very quiet, except when it really counts.

“Hey, Stevie!” Eddie calls.

Steve smiles. His fingers go still where they’d been playing with the bag of almonds.

“Hi, Eds.”

Frodo meows his own greeting.

Steve turns, faces Eddie. Tilts his head a little, because Eddie looks…nervous. Sometimes, Steve found it difficult to read people, to understand the emotions that played across faces – but Eddie he could read like a book, Eddie who is all expression and wild gestures and wide grins. It’s something Steve loves about him – one of the many things – Eddie doesn’t hide how he feels. Even when he wants to it still ends up written all over his expressive face.

“You ok?”  Steve asks him.

Eddie nods, smiles sheepishly, rubs the back of his neck.

Steve thinks he’s beautiful.

“Yeah, I um…well. You wanna sit down?” Eddie pulls the bandana from his back pocket, lays it out on the seat.

Ritual complete, Steve sits, looking expectantly at Eddie. Frodo hops up between them, looks at Eddie with a curiosity to match Steve’s.

Eddie’s knee is bouncing up and down. He’s got a small bag in his hands, twisting the handle in his fingers.

“What’s that?” Steve asks.

“Well, it’s…it’s something for you,” Eddie stutters, “I got it made. From that little jewelry stall by old Driscoll’s stand.”

Steve nods. He knows it.

“This…well, hopefully this isn’t weird, this isn’t, like…some proposal, or something, not that I wouldn’t want that one day, just…maybe not right now, but -”

“Eddie,” Steve interrupts, patting his hand. Eddie flashes him a nervous smile, then trains his gaze down to his lap, face red. “Can I see it?” Steve asks shyly.

Eddie nods quickly. “Yeah, course. Um…here.”

Steve takes it. He lets the bag crinkle in his hands for a moment, fingertips taking in the feel of the coarse paper. And then he’s opening it, pulling out the little black box inside.

Eddie’s eyes are glued to him, knee still jittering away. Steve reaches across, lays a hand on it.

Slowly, he opens the box.

“I can return it if you don’t like it,” Eddie starts immediately. “It’s just, you’re always fiddling with mine, and I thought maybe you’d like one of your own, but if it’s like…if you don’t like the design, or the metal feels funny on your finger, then I can take it back. I just…wanted to get you something. To show that I’m, like…serious about all this. About you and me. Never been more serious about anything in my life, in fact.”

Steve studies the ring in the box. It’s a simple silver band with a floral design etched into the center, interconnected petals and leaves winding their way around the ring.

It’s perfect.

“I thought, it’s kinda like the flowers in our backyard that you like, the ones me and Wayne planted, and the leaves sort of made me think of the park and I know you love the park, so -”

Steve leans over and kisses him, cutting off Eddie’s nervous ramble.

When he pulls away, Eddie’s face is flushed, long eyelashes shadowing dark eyes as he blinks slowly.

“You like it, then?” he murmurs, hint of a grin tugging at his lips.

Steve nods. Slips the ring onto his index finger, gives it a few experimental twists around his finger, just like how he plays with Eddie’s rings.

“I love it,” Steve says softly.

“It’s ok if you only wear it sometimes,” Eddie adds quickly. “I know you don’t always like certain things touching your skin, so…I won’t be offended or anything if you don’t wear it much. Or at all. Or you could put it on a chain and wear it around your neck, if you like. Whatever you want to do.”

Steve swallows thickly. He turns to Eddie again, takes in his large eyes and tattooed arms and chapped lips. Wishes Eddie saw himself like Steve sees him – confident and brave and stunning. In time, he’ll learn. In the meantime, Steve will show him.

“It’s perfect,” he promises. “Think I’ll wear it all the time. Thank you.” He leans over, kisses him again, smiles at the sharp intake of breath Eddie takes because he always does it when Steve kisses him, even after all this time.

Frodo plays with the paper bag, tries to make his way inside but can’t fit, settles for sitting on top of it instead.

Steve lays his head on Eddie’s shoulder, scatters the rest of his almonds for the squirrels, listens to the trees creak in the breeze and Eddie’s slow breathing beside him.

He smiles, hand gripping Eddie’s thigh.

Eddie chuckles, looks down at him.

“What’s got you smiling so much?”

Steve’s smile widens. “Nothing,” he murmurs, burrowing further into Eddie’s shoulder.

Eddie grins, lets Steve squirm against him. “Nothing, huh?”

“Mmm hmm. Just…really love you, is all.”

Eddie stills, and Steve hears him exhale shakily. It’s nothing new, what Steve said – they tell each other nearly daily now, but Steve never gets bored of Eddie’s reaction to it.

“Love you too, Stevie,” he breathes, wrapping an arm around his waist.

The sun breaks through the trees, the squirrels scuttle through the grass, and Steve thinks he’s never felt so happy in all his life.