Chapter Text
“I don’t really see why we need to force him to come if he doesn’t want to,” Steve grumbles. Reluctant hazel eyes follow the Forest Hills Trailer Park sign as the burgundy Beemer, lovingly dubbed McFly by Robin after the summer of ‘85, passes by. The white block letters are faded and peeling, the baby blue paint of the sign cracked and aged.
“We’re not forcing him, Steve. We’re asking him politely if he wants to join, and twisting his hand behind his back and chucking him in the trunk if he says no,” Robin says simply.
“But why?” His hands skitter across the steering wheel as he turns to pull up in front of the trailer, tires crunching on gravel. It’s a new one, different, gifted as an afterthought by the asshole government who didn't really give two shits about Eddie and Wayne after the old trailer had been mercilessly ripped to shreds in the fight against Vecna.
“Because he has no other friends and I, for one, have basic human decency, unlike some people—” she shoots a pointed glance at Steve, who just huffs in response— “and I want him to come because I know it’ll be good for him. Good for you too, to hang out with a guy your age,” Robin chides.
Steve is at a loss for a good retort, guilt rising in his throat at the reminder that he didn’t hang out with Eddie all that often recently, at least in a non-group setting. “Eddie has friends. Those Hellfire guys. Plus, Jonathan’s coming,” he says defensively.
“Fine, guys your age that aren’t dating your ex. And I know Eddie has friends, but not ones that have been through what we have. And don’t say Dustin, he’s a kid,” Robin adds before Steve can cut in, anticipating his next rebuttal. Like she always does. “Truth is we’re bonded for life, whether you like it or not.”
“It’s not that I don’t like it, Eddie’s a great guy. I just feel like six is too many people,” Steve says, obviously stalling. He’s yet to kill the engine, basking in the steady heat of his car. Robin snorts.
“Please, Steve. Don’t act like I didn’t go with you last December. We’ll fit.”
“It’s my cabin,” Steve says hotly, immaturely. He’s embarrassed before the words even come out of his mouth. Robin just looks at him, and fiery shame prickles the back of his neck.
“Seriously, Steve?”
“Okay. Yeah. That was bitchy,” he agrees quickly. “Didn’t mean it.”
And Steve didn’t mean it, not at all. He’d love for Eddie to come. Truth is, he isn’t really sure what it is about Eddie that makes him feel so weird. He’s an incredibly sweet guy, and he treated Steve nicely, too. Steve will never forget the moment Eddie complimented him after admitting he was a little jealous of Henderson’s devotion to Steve. The sudden praise from a man he had just gotten to know had honestly shaken Steve to his core, it was so unexpected. Surprising, but comforting in a way.
The two got along well enough after that, and Steve hadn’t thought twice about helping the others carry Eddie’s near-lifeless body back home. In fact, Steve had supported most of Eddie’s weight, and he found himself with the undeniable knowledge that he’d do it again, no hesitation. It’s odd, Steve thinks, going through hell and back with somebody before even knowing simple things about them, like their favorite movie or their middle name.
He remembers feeling something tight and painful uncoiling with relief in his chest when Eddie had finally woken up in his hospital bed. Steve had just watched, unable to find the right words, as the man was eventually released and exited through those double doors on crutches, leaning against his uncle. Of course, Steve and Eddie exchanged kind words and had embraced before Eddie left, but where exactly do you go from there? Sure, he hung out with Eddie since, paths crossing inevitably because of Dustin anyway. They exchanged conversation, shared laughs. Drinks and joints, too. But they never broke the surface, not really. And Steve never really knew why he wouldn’t let himself do it, because he knew it was possible. Knew Eddie was willing enough too, he thinks guiltily.
Robin just shakes her head and studies him. Steve recognizes that look. It used to offend him, thinking it was pity, until he forced himself to accept that it’s just because Robin cares. About him. A lot, quite frankly, and it makes Steve feel all fuzzy and lightheaded when he thinks about it too hard, so he tries not to.
“I just don’t want you… feeling left out.”
“Rob, we talked about this,” he says, exasperated. “You think I don’t know I’m signing up to spend a weekend in a remote cabin with two couples? I’ll be fine,” he insists, meeting her unrelenting gray-blue eyes.
“Chrissy and I are not a couple,” Robin whispers venomously, darting her head around as if the blonde were hiding in the backseat of McFly. Steve wants to laugh at Robin’s behavior but bites his tongue, afraid of what she’ll do.
“Don’t I know it,” he mutters under his breath instead. This earns him a harsh swat to the shoulder and Steve immediately winces in pain, hand flying to rub the affected area.
“That’s it,” Robin huffs, straightening. “You’re going to ask Eddie, not me. Since it’s your cabin and all.” She’s daring him to challenge her.
“That hurt,” is all he says, but he cuts the ignition and follows her to the trailer door anyway.
Robin promptly removes her hand from her jacket pocket and pounds on the door. Hard. “EDDIE? EDDIE!”
“Jesus, Robin!” Steve hisses, brows shooting skyward. “Are you trying to wake up the whole damn park?” Embarrassed on her behalf, he wildly swings his head around to see if any disturbed neighbors caught wind of Robin’s assault on the Munsons’ doorstep. When he’s satisfied that an angry mob has not yet formed and isn’t coming for their heads, Steve whips back, giving Robin his signature dude-what-the-fuck eyes. She shrugs.
“It’s ten. Can’t be certain Eddie’s even awake,” she says matter-of-factly. Steve just rolls his eyes as far as they can go and shoves his hands further down into the front pockets of his red puffer jacket. The December morning chill is ruthless and he’s cold. Robin rolls back-and-forth on her boots, waiting. After roughly twenty seconds she stops and begins tapping her right foot quickly.
Suddenly, she takes a small half-step closer toward the door and Steve dreads what’s to follow. He’s been by her side long enough now to recognize the tell-tale signs of Robin’s impatience, and shifts forward to throw a hand over her mouth as he sees it opening, can practically hear the gathering of her breath as she’s about to scream for a second time. Her voice dies in her throat, muffled by Steve’s skin.
The door swings open anyway. A blinking Eddie surveys the scene in front of him. Steve suddenly clocks how odd this looks, like he and Robin are two eager Girl Scouts deposited on Eddie’s doorstep anticipating a hefty cookie sale. Embarrassment washes over him, heat rising to the back of his neck as Eddie cocks his head at Steve. But before Steve can say anything, defend himself maybe, something wet brushes across his palm and he registers all too late that his hand is still over Robin’s mouth.
The fucker licked it, Steve realizes. Yelping, Steve pulls his hand back like he’d been burned, smoothing his palm over the front of his light-wash denim jeans. He groans in disgust at the dark spot blooming over his thigh that is Robin’s spit. Eddie’s amused eyes had followed Steve’s hand, and are now trailing back to Steve’s face, who unabashedly takes the sight of Eddie in.
He’s shirtless. It’s December and he’s shirtless. Eddie rests comfortably against the doorframe, crossing his ankles. He takes a long, slow sip from the mug he’s holding, which Steve sees is a Garfield cup. As in the orange cat from the cartoon. Steve stifles a chuckle at the randomness of it. It suits him perfectly, he thinks. Dark curls cascade past Eddie’s shoulders, though not in an unruly way. His nearly-black eyes are still soft and addled with sleep, and there’s a hint of stubble on his face, likely from only one or two days worth without shaving. He looks good, great even, and Steve can't help but plainly admire the ease with which Eddie has his scars on display. Thick, jagged, gleaming silver lines cover his body, even moreso than the inky black of his tattoos, serving as an ever-present reminder of the cruelty Eddie had endured. Steve feels that same pang of guilt rise in his throat again.
Eddie just shoves one hand in the pocket of his navy sweatpants, the drawstrings of which hang untied and the edges frayed. The fabric hugs Eddie’s pale hips snugly, sitting lower than Steve would ever have his own sweatpants placed. Because this way, Steve, and anyone else, can clearly see the sharp outlines of Eddie’s hip bones, standing like sculptured guardians between the beginnings of a modest happy trail that—
Eddie clears his throat. His eyes hadn’t left Steve’s and he cocks an amused brow at his obvious looking.
“Aren’t you cold?” Steve asks, gesturing to Eddie’s toplessness.
“Well you see, Harrington, I was inside before you banged my door down like a madman. And you may or may not be aware of this, but you can have heating in a trailer,” Eddie says, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips.
“The banging was—” Steve starts.
“How’ve you been, Eddie?” Robin cuts him off, chirping brightly.
“I know trailers can have heating,” Steve grumbles, but neither are listening to him.
“I’m alright, Buckley,” Eddie says honestly. “I’ve definitely seen better days, sure. But I’m good.” Eddie rubs at a tired eye and takes a generous sip out of his mug.
“I’m glad to hear that,” Robin says warmly, smiling at Eddie. He returns the grin. “Anyway, funny you should mention better days,” she adds quickly, nearly tripping over herself with excitement. Steve desperately wants to remind her to breathe. “Steve here has something he wants to ask you.” And with that, two pairs of eyes bore into him, one steely and light, the other taunting and dark.
“Is that right?” Eddie drawls.
“Yup,” Robin quips. “Go on then, Steve.”
Steve clears his throat, feeling very awkward all of a sudden. “Yeah, um…” Eddie’s smile grows fond as Steve struggles, like he finds the whole display to be incredibly endearing. “My family, we’ve got this log cabin out in rural Michigan by the lake. But my parents don’t use it much, so it’s basically always empty. Rob and I went last year, but I figured it’d be more fun to get a bigger group going this time around.” Steve clicks his jaw shut once he finishes, waiting, for Eddie to react, to respond. He doesn’t.
“And…” Robin coaxes. Oh, right. He didn’t really invite him, did he?
“And,” Steve amends quickly. “And— I was wondering if maybe you wanted to come along? Nance and Jon are coming too, you’ve met him—”
“That I have. Cool dude.” Eddie nods approvingly.
“Right, yeah. And Chrissy. Who you’re friends with,” he says plainly.
“That I am.” He grins, thoroughly amused now. “Wasn’t it I who formally introduced the two of you, Harrington?”
“I saw her at games,” Steve defends. Which is true, he did. She was a junior on the cheer squad during Steve’s final year playing for the varsity basketball team. But... Eddie is right. The first time Steve had had an actual conversation with the cheerleader was at Eddie’s trailer, two weeks P.V. (“‘Post Vecna, Steve!’ Robin had explained the first time she used the phrase and he looked at her with furrowed brows. They laughed like idiots after, reveling in the confusion on other people’s faces when they used the abbreviation, never bothering to explain it). Steve found that he quite liked Chrissy, growing fond of her as she and Robin became friendlier P.V.
“Anyway,” Robin cuts in, steering the conversation away from the dangerous waters of her miserable crush. Steve snorts and she elbows him in his side, sharp bone digging into his ribs. He grunts and Eddie’s eyes flicker between the two, like he can’t quite grasp their odd dynamic though it amuses him so. “What do you say, Eddie? We leave Friday morning.”
Steve looks to Eddie, who’s watching Robin. The man appears to be considering, though not entirely convinced. “Look, man, we totally get it if you—” Steve starts.
“I’ll go,” Eddie interrupts. Despite the confirmation, Steve widens his eyes in disbelief.
“You will?” He’s unable to hide the surprise in his voice and winces, knowing Robin will give him a stern talking-to about that later.
“Yeah, why not? Might be fun.” Eddie smiles, shrugging. Steve finds himself smiling back like a reflex, ignoring the way his stomach swoops as he watches Eddie’s eyes sparkle with intrigue.
“Great! We’ll pick you up at nine on Friday!” Robin says cheerfully.
“‘We?’” Steve cocks a brow at her.
“Fine, you Steve. You will pick everyone up because you are so kind to offer up your car to us mere—”
“Wait, that car?” Eddie points to McFly. Steve nods, confused. What’s wrong with his car?
“Oh shit,” Robin smacks a hand to her forehead. “We’re six people now.”
“Fuck,” he groans.
“Looks like it’ll be me picking you up,” Eddie replies, nodding toward his own van.
“Hey, man, you don’t have to do that,” he says quickly.
“Are you rescinding your generous offer, Harrington? You don’t want me to come anymore?” Eddie feigns a blow to the chest as he clutches his heart with his free hand, mouth agape.
Steve snorts at that, huffing out a half chuckle.
“In any case, I’m a good driver, so don’t you worry your pretty little head. Although, I have no idea where the fuck I’m going, meaning you’ll need to be my navigator, sit up front with me.” He grins, dark eyes now glinting with mischief. Steve’s face heats.
“Thank you, thank you Eddie!” Robin celebrates, oblivious to Steve’s internal struggle as she clasps her hands together. “This is going to be so fun.” She looks between the two men, but Eddie’s watching Steve, the playful smirk still plastered across his face while he busies himself with a suddenly very fascinating piece of lint on his vest.
“Anything I should bring?” Eddie asks the two of them.
“Oh, no. We’ve pretty much got groceries covered, and Jonathan and Nance are bringing drinks,” Steve replies easily, eager for a subject change.
Robin nods. “Steve and I are going to FoodMart tomorrow. But maybe… if you want to bring some of your…” Robin wiggles her brows. Steve whips his head to face her, shocked. Robin's not the biggest smoker. “Why not?” She shrugs sheepishly. Steve squints at her. Can’t help but wonder if she feels like she needs it to feel more at ease around...
“My my. The twins show up begging for my car and my weed. Do I get anything in return?”
Robin giggles as Steve frowns and mouths ‘twins?’
“Steve’s company!” She laughs, not thinking too much of it.
“Steve’s company,” Eddie repeats slowly, dark eyes raking over him. “Works for me.”
He shifts under Eddie’s gaze, offers a small but genuine smile.
“Okay, we should go,” Robin says seriously, turning to Steve. “Any later and Keith will have our asses. God, this is going to be great. Bye, Eddie!” She tumbles off the doorstep, pulling Steve with her back to the Beemer.
“See ya, Buckley,” Eddie waggles his ringed fingers. Steve watches as Eddie brings the Garfield mug to his lips, savoring the taste of his morning coffee. He wonders briefly how Eddie takes his. He figures he’s definitely a multiple sugar packet kind of guy. They lock eyes from afar and Steve keeps watching, unable to tear his gaze away for whatever reason until he hears the impatient and repeated noise that is Robin aggressively jiggling her door handle over and over because Steve has yet to unlock the car.
“Okay okay, Jesus,” he jumps, fumbling for his key briefly before shoving it in and opening the door, pressing the button for Robin’s side to unlock. “So damn impatient,” he huffs out. Robin ignores him, sliding into the car and bouncing in her seat.
“See you Friday, Stevie,” Eddie calls from behind. Steve’s heart thumps loudly in his chest at the nickname. He doesn’t let himself turn back before ducking into McFly.
“See ya, man,” he says in what is hopefully a cool and apathetic way.
“Fuck, I'm excited. Are you?” Robin asks, breathless as she giddily puts one of her many tapes in. No doubt thinking that, with Eddie occupying Steve and calmed nerves courtesy of Eddie’s weed, she’ll finally make her move on Chrissy. Steve wants to be happy for her, is happy for her, so he manages a smile despite muddled thoughts full of a certain metalhead.
“Oh yeah. Thrilled.”