Chapter Text
If long-suffering propriety is what they want from me
They don't know how you've haunted me so stunningly
» [I Love You (It’s Ruining My Life)] «
0:00 〇-────── 4:14
⇄ ◃◃ ⅠⅠ ▹▹ ↻
✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦
Eddie spends a lot of time thinking in the weeks after the world almost ends.
He has ample time, reason, and motive to do so, especially since one of his hands is cuffed to the hospital bed. He literally can’t go anywhere to distract himself or engage in lively conversation with others. Every day, he quite literally is forced to be alone with his thoughts.
Even if he could manage to free one hand, the medication the doctors have him on — stuff he suspects Reefer Rick would charge a small fortune for — is potent enough to sedate a horse. He’d only be able to stumble two or three steps before face-planting, and that’s assuming the injuries to his legs don’t give out first. So, he has to get creative and find ways to survive the monotony of his stark white prison.
Can you really blame him for fixating on none other than Steve Harrington?
Eddie can — he blames himself, that is. There are countless better things he could be thinking about besides Steve Harrington. He’s stuck in a hospital bed after demons nearly devoured their world for dinner, for crying out loud. A trauma like that comes with a long list of far more pressing issues to consider and work through.
For starters, he should be figuring out how he’s going to leave Hawkins General. Sure, the kids managed to defeat Vecna mostly on their own, but they’re nowhere near ready to break a wanted man out of a hospital right now. Max is still recovering. El is still shaken. All the other key players in their little operation are either panicking over their own well-being or trying to sort through their post-apocalyptic lives. Eddie should be smart and have a backup plan in place just in case.
Then there’s the whole ‘survival’ aspect to consider. According to the doctors, one more solid blow to his ankle could leave him unable to walk again. Although he’s made a decent recovery, they’ve recommended rehab. Rehab is costly, and there are also follow-up appointments to consider. He needs to brainstorm, plan, and budget to manage all this without eating into his already meager savings.
And yet, his thoughts keep drifting back to Steve.
Steve, with his annoyingly perfect hair and his ridiculously impressive survival skills. Steve, who swooped in like a knight in shining armor when they were trapped in the Upside Down, saving him from certain doom. He picked Eddie up in a bridal carry, whisking him away from the bats as if he were lifting a mere house cat, barely breaking a sweat. The sheer impact of it took Eddie’s breath away, and not just because of his massive loss of blood.
Sometimes, when he’s bored or when Steve isn’t by his side to keep him company, Eddie rewinds that scene in his mind, reliving its surreal nature.
It always begins with Steve rushing over, his blood-matted hair standing defiant against the wind and his voice sounding far-too-worried for Eddie’s comfort. He slides over to the chaos that is Eddie’s body, too kind to comment on the horror before him, though he looks rightly horrified. Eddie watches as Steve hovers his hands over each wound, inspecting them and contemplating how to handle each as if he’s playing some twisted version of Operation.
His eyes are glistening.
Eddie remembers this fact clearly; he knows he didn't fabricate such an important detail. Those eyes reflect back at him through the chaos, and they're the only thing he can see as Steve makes solemn promises not to leave him down there, calling out for Robin and Nancy to prepare the portal in the trailer so they can escape together.
In Eddie’s mind, he can still feel those same hands — hands that now feed him soup and water in the hospital — digging under his back to lift him into Steve’s embrace. His grip is so sure and firm. They’re also impossibly warm. That warmth is something else Eddie can’t shake off. He still feels it, like an imprint on his skin, how much of a furnace Steve was against his side. In that moment, Eddie clung to it like a moth to a flame, and he still does in his thoughts to the best of his ability.
The next thing that comes to him from that night is Steve’s voice, barking orders at the girls, at Dustin, whose voice fades in and out of memory, and at Lucas once they’re back on solid ground. His voice sounds strained, pained, and stressed to the max. Yet, whenever he addresses Eddie, it’s infused with tenderness. Reassurances. Care. It’s enough to make a man believe that yeah, he will survive the demonic apocalypse around him.
From there, everything fades like Dustin’s voice. He catches brief glimpses and flashes of what’s happening around him before ultimately slipping into a twilight-like state of nothingness. The next time he regains enough consciousness to truly notice his surroundings — to feel, see, and hear without agony — he finds himself in his stark white room, now with the added bonus of Steve asleep and snoring beside him.
What can Eddie really say upon waking up to that? How is he supposed to avoid daydreaming about that guy after such a display from someone who had once been a complete stranger? An enemy? How can Eddie stop when this so-called enemy keeps coming back, making it a point to update him on the little flock of friends he’s collected?
“The city’s opened up again. Visitors have to be checked by the Suits, but some people are coming back. I think my parents might return in a few weeks. Doubt it, though.”
“Max is awake now, but her vision isn’t perfect like before. Lucas is gonna’ see if she can get really cool glasses. El wants her to get a guide dog. I think she might ask Hop for one for herself, but like one of those emotional support ones. We’ll see who wins that battle.”
“Dustin’s working on getting Suzie to come back to Hawkins now that it’s safe so she can meet you. Says you’re his ‘hero.’ Little wannabe, I was the one that saved his ass. He should be parading me around. Kiss-up.”
Eddie cherishes each update like soup for the soul. He’s grown quite fond of them and even finds himself looking forward to Steve waltzing in to deliver them like the morning paper. They make him feel normal again, as if he’s just some guy. They also make him feel cared for. They’re thoughtful. He can count on one hand — one finger almost — the number of people who have shown him that level of care on such a consistent basis. How can he help but dwell on Steve when the guy is joining such an elite and exclusive club in his otherwise insignificant life?
It unfolds shortly after Eddie gets out of the hospital and has regained the ability to move freely, with all his legal issues finally resolved. Steve is there with him, and they're smoking together in the forest. High as kites, they chat and joke around without a care in the world, just two kids enjoying a smoke and each other's company. The world around them is awash in cool tones, coupled with a gentle breeze that sends shivers down their spines and rustles the leaves above. It’s a soft scene.
Steve’s expression is soft.
Eddie commits it to memory as they sit together, watching each other in tranquil idleness. It’s nice. It’s sweet. It’s everything Eddie could ever wish for from a hangout with Steve. Steve gazes at him ike he’s thinking the same about Eddie. Then, with a voice as light as a feather as fireflies twinkle around them, Steve asks Eddie to hum him a song.
Unable to deny any request from him, Eddie jumps right into his latest musical discovery.
It’s some tune by a Glasgow band he stumbled upon in a small indie record shop with Gareth. He’s a bit rusty and fumbles the melody in spots, but Steve drinks in every moment. He listens to Eddie sing as if he were leading a choir of angels, only pausing to set aside his blunt so he can focus entirely on Eddie. His gaze is both nerve-wracking and beautiful, making Eddie feel more terrified than ever to deliver his improvised performance. There are moments when he considers stopping, thinking it might spare him the panic that Steve is seeming to incite with his attention.
But, just when those thoughts threaten to overwhelm him, Steve steps in with an impromptu performance of his own. He glances at Eddie’s lips, sets his jaw, and then leans in for a kiss that is so sudden and passionate it makes Eddie see stars.
They lose themselves in each other for a while on the grass, without worrying about definitions, implications, or what comes next. It’s just kissing, laughter, and joy shared between two souls who truly deserve it. As their kisses begin to slow and the darkness settles around them, Steve cradles Eddie’s cheek in his hand and vows he never wants to lose Eddie again. Eddie leans into Steve’s touch and promises he won’t have to. They draw closer, their eyes locking, and then Steve closes the gap between them, engaging Eddie in a messy, passionate top-lip kiss that feels intoxicating all on its own, like something out of a romantic film.
And then, Eddie wakes up.
Eddie hates waking up.
Waking up means facing reality and all the things Steve helps him escape from. It also comes with a glaring neon sign that yells, “Hey, loser! Your friend is probably straight and would never do this with you! He only saved you once because he’s a decent guy! Get a life! Stop fantasizing!”
The truth is, Eddie sees and hears that message loud and clear.
He’s spent a lot of time with Steve lately. He’s listened as Steve talked about his life, his likes and dislikes, and learned about his boundaries, preferences, and the parents who would sooner launch him into outer space than accept that they have a non-straight son. Sure, Steve has never explicitly stated he’s completely straight, but Eddie isn’t naive. He knows that even a closeted Steve would be too scared of what others might think to act on any feelings. He also knows that Steve is still lovelorn after the whole Nancy thing and would probably prefer to chase the thrill of companionship with another gentle, doe-eyed creature like her.
Steve once told him as much. Pointing at the stitches on Eddie’s cheek, he had chuckled softly and suggested they go out on the town once they healed to test their charm now that they looked all ‘rugged.’
The thought had made Eddie laugh.
He still has a laugh about it now, though it’s not out of bashfulness like Steve had guessed that day. He still chuckles at it now, but it’s not out of the bashfulness Steve had assumed that day. It’s a laugh tinged with futility — the painful realization that he can never actually take Steve up on that offer because he is the one who wants his newfound attention, and he wants to look rugged together with Steve, but Steve doesn’t want that. Steve is looking for that with some pretty girl. Eddie can never compete with that.
So, he laughs. He shoves his face full of hospital food, shakes his head at himself for believing in his silly dreams of what could be, and hides his feelings behind loud, raucous laughter.
He’s still laughing about it when he hears Steve knock on his hospital room door for his daily check-in.
As always, Steve looks impossibly handsome. He’s wearing tight jeans — a light-wash pair missing a button on the back pocket — paired perfectly with a black belt and a bright red polo. His hair has grown longer since their time in the Upside Down, brushing the nape of his neck and swooping enticingly across his forehead in delicate strands. He looks straight-up dashing.
In his hands, Steve carries a pair of milkshakes. They’re from the diner about a block away from Hawkins General, a little place Eddie introduced him to one night when his sweet tooth kicked in and he became positively insatiable in bed. Steve had gotten them cookies and cream shakes that night. He ended up with cookies stuck in his teeth that made some of them look blacked out. They had laughed about it for ages, growing closer and finding comfort in each other's company. Eddie swore he was going to pop his stitches, he laughed so hard. Steve swore he needed to get them milkshakes more often. The rest was history.
Eddie reaches out with grabby hands for his drink, unwilling to start any discussions now. Steve, amused, hands it over before taking his seat and opening his own straw while Eddie quickly devours his shake. Eddie was right; it is chocolate, and it is heavenly.
“So, what’s so funny?”
“Hmm? Oh, the laughter? You heard that?” Eddie asks around his straw, swallowing a loud gulp. He shrugs. “That was nothing. Just thought up another way to prank those good-for-nothing vultures they’re calling nurses these days.”
Steve huffs and shakes his head in disappointment, like a mother scolding a child. Eddie finds it amusing and smirks as he takes another sip.
“C’mon man, they’re just trying to do their job. You’re going to piss them off and end up with crappy food or something.”
“Food’s already crappy,” Eddie informs him, cradling his cup. “War criminals, every single one of them. And while we’re on the topic of ‘pointing out their sins,’ do you have any idea how big the needles those ladies are allowed to wield get? They might as well be swords, Harrington! Swords! Just the other day, there was one they put near my ankle that just-”
All thoughts of needles and nurses vanish as Eddie catches sight of Steve in the midst of his own foul crime. With a straw between his lips, head tilted back slightly, and eyes shut, he’s sipping his drink like it’s the best thing he’s ever tasted. The borderline pornographic noises he’s making are enough to make Eddie’s heart race and definitely appear on the monitor, to his borderline panic.
It’s diabolical. It’s cruel. It makes Eddie feel like he could take on any size needle the nurses want to throw at him. Maybe even a scalpel. Or a gun.
Eddie physically shakes himself out of whatever just came over him and buries his face in his milkshake. The beeping monitor beside him continues its steady betraying beating, and for a fleeting moment, he almost wishes he had a needle, scalpel, or gun for entirely different reasons.
Steve chuckles softly to himself.
“Alright, well. If it’s nurses you’re tryina’ avoid, you’re in luck.”
“Huh?”
His eyes twinkle. Eddie swears to God or Vecna or whatever weird entity runs the universe now, they freakin’ twinkle.
“Word on the street, aaand sort of why I’m here today, is that…well…they’re busting ya’ out of here soon…ish. Probably.”
Eddie’s lips drop from his straw.
His eyes blow wide.
He barely registers the sound of Steve snorting with laughter as his free hand slaps the bed railing and a garbled noise escapes him mid-sip.
“Don’t play with me, man. Don’t you play with me,” he stresses, growing louder with each word. “I need you to be so honest with me right now. Tell me I heard you right, Harrington.”
Grinning, Steve nudges Eddie’s knee with his shake. “You heard me. Hopper’s working on some paperwork or something, and…that’ll do it.”
If Eddie’s eyes could get any wider, they just did.
“Wa-wa-wa-wait, WAIT. Hopper? As in Chief Hopper? The guy who was dead for a while but isn’t anymore and is now super involved with the Byers family — that Hopper? He’s the one trying to free me?”
Steve snorts, clearly reveling in the moment. “Surprise ya?”
“Surprise?” Eddie wheezes out a laugh, tossing his head back onto the pillow. “Dude, that man has hunted the asses of me and my entire family for sport for years. ‘Surprise’ doesn’t quite cut it. What the hell does he have over the Hawkins P.D. to pull something like that off?”
“More like, what does he have over the U.S. government?”
Eddie gapes at him.
“What? He went to Russia, man. I don’t know.”
Sure. Sure!
“Anyway,” Steve says, shifting in his seat, “once he’s got all that set, you’re outta’ here. The docs are even for it, by the way. Apparently, you’ve been good to go for the last week or so, aside from all the meds and whatnot.”
“Oh god, don’t tell me that.”
Steve pats Eddie’s knee. His hand feels warm even from beneath Eddie’s blanket.
“Don’t worry, man. It’s almost over.”
“Damn. I can't believe it's finally happening. You gonna’ be lost without having to sit at my bedside all the time, Steve?” Eddie glances up at him over his straw and bats his eyelashes for extra effect. “Maybe miss me and all the good times we've had together in my humble abode?”
Steve looks away with a grin, sending Eddie’s heart soaring. “You wish.”
He does.
He very, very much does.
“Nah, it’ll be nice not having to drive back and forth all the time. Gas isn’t cheap since everything went down, and the Suits give me the third degree every time I show up. Plus,” Steve adds, that twinkle returning to his eye, “with you free, I’ll finally get Dustin off my back. You know he’s been hounding me to play D&D?”
“Gasp. Shock. The horror!”
“Hilarious.”
Eddie grins.
“Well, don’t worry your pretty little head, Harrington. I’ll make sure the kid still has time for you after I get him back under my wing. And I’ll visit, too — wouldn’t want you to go too long without seeing your favorite patient.”
“You say that like it’s a blessing.”
“Well, we all know my presence is a gift, Stevie,” Eddie teases.
He knows he’s pushing it with Stevie. The first time he let it slip, he half-expected a punch or for Steve to swap his meds with poison. But, none of that had been the case. Steve had just rolled with it, teasing him right back in such an incredibly Steve way.
This time is no different. Steve just shoves Eddie’s knee and gives him an eye roll so fond it makes Eddie wonder what else he could get away with. But that’s a thought for another day, one where he’s not strapped to a hospital bed and unable to make a quick exit.
Steve gets up, sending his chair squeaking against the tile.
“Good,” he replies with a wink. “Serves you right.”
Milkshake in hand, Eddie’s just glad he can count on seeing him again outside of them soon enough.
