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The world had gone back to normal.
Technically.
But Steve still dragged as many of the party as he could out to the high school track once a week, insisting that running-for-your-life cardio training shouldn't stop just because the world didn't end.
"This is totally unnecessary," Eddie groaned, arms crossed tightly over his chest while Steve, Dustin, and Will went through a series of leg stretches around him. "I'm in great shape."
Steve raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. "You smoked two cigarettes just walking from the van."
"And I keep telling you, Mountain Dew isn't a replacement for water," Will chimed in softly.
"I'm lean," Eddie countered, glaring at all of them while gesturing down his body like Vanna White. "Lithe. Catlike."
"Right," Dustin snorted. "Cause cats are known for tripping over their own feet."
"Can it, twerp."
"Okay then, Eddie. If you're so in shape—prove it," Steve said, already bouncing on the balls of his feet.
"Sounds like you just want an eye-full of this sweet ass in motion."
Steve shrugged a shoulder, "Maybe I do."
Eddie blinked. Was Steve actually flirting with him right now? Or was his commitment to fitness just that intense?
Only one way to find out.
"Alright," Eddie said, trying to play it cool as he shucked his jacket, tossing it on the bleachers. "Whatever floats your boat, Harrington."
Steve smirked, like he knew he'd won, and gave Eddie a not-so-subtle once over. "You have no idea what floats my boat, Munson."
Oh shit.
Beside them, Dustin leaned into Will, whispering, "What do boats have to do with running?"
"No idea," Will whispered back.
By the halfway mark of the first lap, Eddie was convinced he was dying, every breath accompanied by a horrible wheezing sound, pouring sweat like a whore in church.
Meanwhile, Steve—the bastard—barely looked winded.
"I thought you were catlike?"
"I am," Eddie panted. "Cats don't jog. They pounce!"
"Okay then—" Steve winked. "prove it."
Eddie grinned, wicked and breathless. "Anytime, sweetheart."