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“What the hell happened to you?”
It’s a fair question, but one that Eddie was hoping he could avoid. He should’ve known better. He limps over to the couch, flopping down on it with a sizeable groan.
Steve was clearly doing something in the kitchen, but he’d dropped it as soon as he heard the door open. Now he leans against the wall, hands on his hips, eyeing Eddie expectantly. Eddie just shrugs.
“Nothing.”
It’s bullshit, and Steve, of all people, knows it’s bullshit. “You were limping in here like some kind of fucking pirate, Munson.”
“Did I look cool?” Eddie offers him a cheeky grin, earning an eye roll.
“No, you looked like the kind of guy who gives his poor boyfriend an aneurysm.” Steve is looking him over with all the precision of a surgeon. If Eddie felt better, he’d have a (very helpful) snarky comment to add. But he doesn’t, so he just lets it happen, resting his forearm over his eyes. Steve’s voice is softer when he speaks again. “You hurt your ankle?”
Eddie lifts his arm slightly to look at him. “What, are you a detective now, too?”
Steve just scoffs, but there’s more than just a hint of affection in it. “What the hell did you do? Did Chrissy beat the shit out of you or something?”
He walks over to the couch, sitting on the floor right next to him. Eddie can’t help but chuckle.
“She’s, like, half my size, dude. She couldn’t beat up a butterfly.”
“Then what?” Steve presses, lacing his fingers through Eddie’s. Tenacious bastard…
“I came across a stray demogorgon, and I kicked its ass in your honor.”
He gets a solid smack on the head in response. Steve isn’t going to stop; Eddie, of all people, ought to know that. He sighs as dramatically as possible, mostly just to cover up his own embarrassment. “I…absolutely wiped out in the parking lot of a donut shop.”
Steve snorts, but tries to cover it up with a cough as Eddie shoots daggers at him. “You, uh, wanna run that by me again?”
“Me. Little lady. The place was more pothole than parking lot. She managed to save most of the donuts…and I managed to do the goddamn splits.” He can’t help but laugh at the absurdity of it, casting a fond glance at Steve as he fails to hold back a smile.
Steve ruffles his hair as he stands up. “You’re a hazard, you know that? At least let me wrap it.”
Eddie lets out a disbelieving huff. “Where’d you learn to do that, Boy Scouts?”
“Uh, yeah, actually.” Steve looks almost offended when he returns, throwing a roll of gauze at him. But he’s surprisingly gentle as he wraps Eddie’s ankle, aware of every bruise, every wince. So serious. It’s…sweet, really. He’s never had anyone take care of him like this.
Steve rests his arms on Eddie’s leg when he’s done, looking awfully pleased with himself. “You really should give me a badge for that.”
“Oh, get fucked, Harrington.”
“You know, I would, but you’re probably gonna be out of commission for a while.”
If looks could kill, Steve would be dead several times over. But that only seems to amuse him more.
“Relax, you big klutz. I’ll take care of you.”
Eddie can’t help the way his heart rate spikes at that. Whether from desire or reluctance (or both), he’s not entirely sure. “Stevie, I don’t need you to—“
Steve cuts him off with a kiss, lingering for a nice, long minute before pulling away. “I know you don’t need me to. I want to. You may as well get used to being wanted, alright, Eds?”
Eddie stares at him, combing his fingers through Steve’s hair. He’s totally serious, isn’t he? Eddie’s not sure if he’s the luckiest guy in the world, or if he’s cursed to have something so precious to lose. But either way, he has it. And it feels almost unnaturally good. “…Alright, Steve. Take care of me.”
And Steve does exactly that.