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"Everything okay, Stevie?" Eddie asked, wiping his greasy nugget fingers on his trouser leg as he watched his boyfriend. Steve was sitting on the floor, leaning against the beat-up sofa, with the bag of fast food he had brought barely touched beside him.
Usually, when he came after his shift at Family Video, Steve would unleash a torrent of complaints about Keith or the idiot customers. But not tonight. He was oddly quiet, his eyes holding a distant, glassy sheen, as if he were staring right through the trailer’s metal walls.
"Keith give you an extra shitty day? Or did Robin rope you into another marathon of depressing French films?" He continued, taking a sip from his softdrink.
The air in the trailer was their usual blend: stale weed, metal, rehearsal sweat, and that deep, smoky, electric scent that was purely Eddie. But floating above all that, stronger than usual, was Steve’s scent, his Omega—toasted vanilla, sun-warmed clean skin, and a hint of that expensive cologne he insisted on wearing. Only now it was different. Richer, thicker, more cloying. And definitely needier. Eddie could smell it even over the fast-food grease.
Steve didn’t even blink at the question. He just mumbled something unintelligible, his vacant gaze drifting around the trailer, lingering not on the metal posters or the D&D miniatures, but on the textures: the worn velvet of a sofa cushion, the soft flannel of a blanket forgotten on a chair, the fuzzy surface of an old quilt. It was an appraising look, almost… greedy.
"Stevie? Earth to Harrington," Eddie tried again, his playful tone beginning to tinge with slight concern. "Did you blow a fuse or what?"
Nothing. Steve scrambled to his feet, his movement abrupt but determined. Ignoring Eddie completely, he went straight to the sofa and started pulling out the three worn cushions, stacking them with meticulous care in the center of the small floor space.
Eddie stood up too, eyebrows shooting towards his hairline. "Whoa, what’re you doing?" he asked, stepping closer. "Tidying up? In my trailer? Did the spirit of cleanliness possess you?" Steve’s sweet, thick scent intensified, wrapping around Eddie like a warm fog. It was intensely alluring, but combined with the weird behavior, it only deepened his confusion.
Steve ignored him entirely. His concentration was evident, almost feverish. He moved to the small closet where Eddie kept spare bedding (or what was left of it). He pulled out every blanket he found: a red and black checkered throw, an electric blue fuzzy one rescued from a yard sale, even Wayne’s old patchwork quilt that smelled like mothballs. He carefully added them to the growing pile.
"Hey, hey, hey," Eddie protested, louder this time. "That’s my blanket for cold winter nights. Why’re you taking everything out? We playing cowboys and Indians or something?" His voice sounded exasperated, but underneath pulsed a growing bewilderment. What the hell was wrong with Steve?
The sofa’s three pillows disappeared into the increasingly large structure. Then Steve turned, his glassy eyes sliding past Eddie like he was just another piece of furniture, and headed straight for the bed—the thin mattress on the squeaky metal frame. Eddie felt a jab of alarm.
"Harrington! Stop right there!" He exclaimed, stepping between Steve and the mattress, arms spread wide. "That’s my bed. The place I sleep, ya know? The fuck are you doing?"
Steve stopped. His cloudy, distant eyes met Eddie’s for a split second. There was a flash of something—a deep, primitive impulse, or just a total disconnect from reality. Then, with a strength that surprised Eddie, Steve pushed him aside with a shoulder and grabbed the mattress. With a slight grunt, he dragged it off the metal frame into the center of the room, adding it as a solid base to his mountain of fabric. Eddie’s sheets, still imbued with the scent of both of them, were yanked off and added with almost reverent care. Eddie watched, in utter disbelief, as Steve gently rubbed them against his cheeks before integrating them into the growing chaos.
"Steve!" Eddie yelled, watching his sleeping place vanish. "Where am I supposed to sleep now? You’re dismantling the place!” He ran a hand through his hair, looking around with a mix of fury and absolute confusion. The sofa was a skeleton. His bed was an empty frame. Even the bathroom towels were starting to disappear, reappearing on the absurd structure. “Are you okay? Did you hit your head at work? Is this some kind of creative sleepwalking attack?” His voice rose, confusion gaining ground on irritation.
Steve found an old, soft sweatshirt of Eddie’s, forgotten on a chair. He buried his nose in it, inhaling deeply; a low, satisfied purring sound escaped his throat, and he placed it strategically on the edge of the creation. Eddie was speechless. The trailer was unrecognizable. Where there had been sparse but functional furniture, now stood a chaotic, inviting mountain of softness: a messy yet clearly intentional circle of every fluffy thing Steve could find. Steve’s sweet Omega scent permeated every fiber, but now it was interwoven with Eddie’s scent, especially on the sheets and sweatshirt. It was a powerful blend, intensely pleasant, like a siren call.
He watched Steve, who finally seemed satisfied. The Omega knelt beside the pillow pile, tucking the edges of a blanket with slightly trembling fingers. His eyes having regained some focus, though still veiled by a deep, instinctual need. His breathing was calmer now, the scent he emitted less urgent, more satisfied, more… clingy.
That’s when the realization hit Eddie like a hammer blow. It wasn’t sleepwalking. It wasn’t a strange tantrum. It wasn’t a possessive cleaning spree.
It was a nest.
Steve was nesting. Building a refuge, a sanctuary of safety and comfort with the sole purpose of surrounding himself with familiar scents—Eddie’s Alpha scent, his own Omega scent, blended. It was a primal Omega instinct. The intensity, the possessiveness, the absolute need that had driven Steve to strip the trailer bare… it all clicked into place with an audible snap in Eddie’s mind.
A sigh escaped Eddie's lips. The exasperation dissipated like smoke, replaced by a wave of tenderness so profound it almost stole his breath. He crossed his arms over his chest, a slow, wondering smile lighting up his face as he contemplated the soft devastation and the meaning it now held. He took soft steps closer, stopping just outside the sacred perimeter of the nest.
"Oh..." Eddie blurted, his voice low, soft, filled with reverent awe. "That's why you took all the pillows." He paused, letting the understanding fill the space between them. His gaze swept over the mountain of fabric. "And my mattress. And my sheets. And basically... everything that wasn't bolted down or made of solid metal." He made a broad gesture with his hand, encompassing his transformed trailer and his ransacked living space. "Pretty damn impressive, Harrington. Top-notch cozy demolition."
Steve slowly looked up at him. His eyes, now more present, held a flicker of embarrassment, but dominated by a clear satisfaction. A slight smile touched his lips as he curled up a little more into the nest, sinking into the sheets.
Eddie crouched down, bringing himself level with Steve. The scent of the nest enveloped him completely now, not just as an seductive aroma, but as a statement, a claim, an olfactory sanctuary. He reached out a hand and gently brushed Steve's soft hair back, tucking a stray lock from his forehead. His touch was infinitely tender.
"This looks... incredibly comfy, Stevie," he murmured, his voice turning into a deep purr that made Steve's chest vibrate. "Like a throne of clouds..." His finger traced the line of Steve's jaw, his gaze soft yet intense. "Just one tiny question, my incredible nest-building Omega..." He lowered his voice even further, his warm breath brushing Steve's ear. "Mind if I lie down with you?" He paused dramatically, letting the question, now loaded with completely new meaning, hang in the pheromone-thick air. "After all, thanks to your... meticulous reorganization of all my plush belongings..." He jerked his head towards the empty skeleton of the bed and the stripped-down sofa. "The Alpha of this territory finds himself without a place to lay his weary head."
Steve's smile was like the sun coming out. Any trace of embarrassment dissipated, replaced by pure, luminous joy, relief, and a satisfied imposition. He scooted backwards into the nest, making space. His hands shot out and grabbed Eddie's wrists, pulling him in tightly.
"Eddie," he murmured, his voice rough but perceptible, filled with a need that Eddie finally understood. "Get in now."
Eddie let himself be guided. He kicked off his shoes with clumsy movements, too focused on not disturbing the precarious balance of the nest. Then, with exaggerated care that drew a soft laugh from Steve, Eddie eased himself into the space Steve had created for him.
Sinking into the nest was an overwhelming sensory experience. The softness enveloped him on all sides, but it was really the smell that captivated him. His own Alpha scent, mingled with Steve's sweet, unique Omega perfume, created a soothing loop. It was their combined essence, their home, concentrated into this small universe of fabrics. The sheets beneath him, the sweatshirt near his face, everything smelled intensely of them, of safety, of belonging.
Steve immediately curled up against him, burying his face in Eddie's chest with a shuddering sigh of satisfaction. His hands clung to Eddie's shirt, anchoring themselves. Eddie wrapped his arms around him, enfolding the familiar shape of Steve, burying his nose in Steve's soft hair that smelled of expensive shampoo and that unique Omega essence. The nest cocooned them, muffling outside sounds, creating an intimate bubble where only their heartbeats, their synchronized breathing, and the swirling cloud of their mingled scents existed.
"You stole all my stuffing, you menace," Eddie murmured against the crown of Steve's head, but there was no reproach in his voice, only deep amazement and immense affection. His hand traced slow circles on Steve's back, feeling the residual tension melt under his touch.
Steve made a sound, somewhere between a purr and a sigh of contentment, pressing himself even closer against Eddie. "I needed this," he whispered, his voice muffled by Eddie's t-shirt. "Needed... our scent. All together. Safe."
"And you did it, sweetheart," Eddie affirmed, pressing a soft kiss to Steve's forehead. "Built the softest, best-smelling fucking palace in Hawkins County. A castle of stolen cushions and Alpha-scented sheets." A low chuckle rumbled in his chest. "Though technically, you made me homeless... in my own damn trailer."
Steve raised his head, his eyes glinting faintly. A flash of his old petulance surfaced. "Would you rather sleep on the floor?" he asked, a slight eyebrow lift.
Eddie pretended to seriously consider the option, eyeing the cold linoleum beyond the nest's edge. "Hmm, hard cold floor... or cozy Omega den filled with my favorite smell in the whole world and my incredibly sexy boyfriend curled up against me..." He paused dramatically. "Tough call, Harrington. Real tough." His grin widened. "But I think I'll stick with the thief of mattresses."
Steve responded with a soft but insistent kiss on Eddie's lips. It was a slow, deep kiss, full of gratitude, possessiveness, and a love that had transcended high school titles only to become something fundamental. Eddie kissed back with equal intensity, losing himself in the sensation of Steve, in the warmth of the nest, in the perfection of the moment.
When the kiss ended, Steve sank back this time against one of the pillows, a sigh of utter contentment escaping his lips. Eddie held him, listening as his breathing grew slower and deeper. The trailer was silent, save for the soft rustling of the nest when either of them shifted and the quiet rhythm of their shared breath. Moonlight filtered through the small window, illuminating the edges of the fabric mountain. Outside, the world with its demons seemed very far away and insignificant.
Here, in this nest built from the plunder of his own home, surrounded by the scent of his Omega and his own, Eddie found an overwhelming peace. It was more than physical comfort; it was a visceral affirmation of their bond. Steve had claimed his space, his scent, his Alpha, in the most instinctive way possible, and Eddie had surrendered to it with all his heart.
The mattress didn't matter. The pillows were a small price to pay. This nest, this sanctuary of their intertwined love, was exactly where he belonged. And as Steve dozed against him, completely relaxed and secure, Eddie let go, breathing deeply the scent of them both, savoring the warm weight of his Omega in his arms, feeling more comfortable and whole than he ever had before in his life.
