Work Text:
They’re about halfway to Hawkins when Steve makes a loud yelp of surprise, and Eddie’s resulting full-body flinch is enough to send the BMW swerving across the center line.
“The fuck?!” he shouts as he quickly regains control of the car again, and when he glances up at the rearview mirror he sees Steve shoving at Dustin, who’s still got his head in Steve’s lap.
“’S nothing!” Steve blurts out, and Eddie sure fucking hopes so.
The thought of something from the house following them back out to the car and creeping inside to lay in wait is not something he wants to consider. Then again, if that were the case, he probably wouldn’t have time to think about it long anyway, seeing as they’re pretty much sitting ducks right now should anything decide to attack.
Eddie takes a deep breath and tries to stop his heart from racing. “You sure?” he asks, just to double check, but Steve only grunts in reply as he doubles his effort of trying to push Dustin off his lap, and Dustin makes a displeased whining sound in reply. “Hey, is he awake?”
“I’d say,” Steve grits out, his voice tight with something Eddie can’t quite decipher, and then he’s grabbing Dustin by the shoulders and heaving him upright.
Eddie watches the kid come into view in the mirror, and even in the dim light it’s clear that he’s not gotten any better since they loaded him into the car; his eyes are glassy and his hair is in disarray, and he looks as stoned as before he faceplanted in Steve’s lap. He’s got a faint sleep line running along his left cheek, probably from pressing up against Steve’s jeans, and it stands out against the flush in the rest of his face as he frowns, appearing decidedly displeased by his new, vertical position.
“No,” he groans as Steve pushes him into the right-side seat and reaches for the seatbelt. “Steve, no. I need—”
“Just sit tight, okay?” Steve tells him. He pins Dustin back against the seat with his forearm as he straps him in, and Dustin groggily tries to tug his arm away. “You’ll be home soon, and then we can call Owens.”
“Don’t want Owens,” Dustin mutters, and when Steve lets go and scoots back over to his own seat, Dustin seems to sway in Steve’s direction until he’s awkwardly hanging halfway across the backseat. “Steve,” he breathes, reaching out to grab Steve’s thigh, and Steve scowls and reaches down to remove his hand.
“His mom’s not home, right?” Eddie asks as the lights of Hawkins appear in the distance, because he doesn’t think Mrs. H would approve of them dragging Dustin home stoned off his face.
“She gets off in an hour,” Steve says, like he doesn’t even need to stop to think about it, and then he patiently grabs Dustin’s hand, which is once again creeping across the seat, and places it back in Dustin’s lap.
“Right,” Eddie says, refocusing on the road as he gives the gas pedal a little love tap. He’s starting to doubt that they’ll be able to get Dustin sober by the time his mom comes off her evening shift.
“It’s hot in here,” Dustin announces. “I’m really hot. I need—” and then Steve lets out another startled sound – a sharp inhale that verges on an honest to god squeak – but when Eddie glances in the mirror he finds no real answers; just Dustin, dopily watching Steve’s face, and Steve, biting his lip as he firmly grabs Dustin’s shoulder and pushes him back into his seat.
“Should I pull over?” Eddie asks, but Steve doesn’t seem to be listening; he frowns as he moves his hand up to touch Dustin’s face – the back of his fingers against Dustin’s cheek first, followed by a palm to Dustin’s forehead.
“He’s burning up,” Steve says, just as Dustin manages to figure out how to unbuckle his seatbelt; he makes a triumphant sound and throws it to the side before swiftly scooting across the seat and then practically crawling into Steve’s lap, pressing Steve against the door as he grabs his face and gives him a sloppy, open-mouthed kiss, all the while groaning like a man who’s finally found his oasis after a lifetime of wandering the desert dunes.
Eddie blinks. “I’m pulling over,” he decides.
Steve’s reply is muffled on account of having Dustin attached to his face, but if Eddie’s honest he doesn’t really care what either of them think right now. He tunes out the noises coming from the backseat and focuses on the road instead, turning the high beams on as he tries to find a good place to pull off the highway. A moment or so later he spots it; a dirt track a hundred or so yards away, one of many used by farmers to navigate between their fields and connecting the dozens of farms dotting the landscape around Hawkins.
He hits the brakes and takes the turn, and it’s a rough track, meant for tractors and not fancy foreign sedans that probably cost more than Eddie’s entire house, so he slows the BMW to a crawl as he pulls far enough away from the road that they won’t be spotted by anyone driving by. He puts the car in park and reaches up to turn the overhead light on before twisting around to peer into the backseat, where he finds Dustin still going at it like a starving man and, surprisingly, still halfway in Steve’s lap because Steve, for whatever reason, hasn’t shoved him off yet.
Half a second later, once Eddie’s brain seems to make the connection his eyes stubbornly refuse to, he realizes that the lack of shoving is the least of their worries because Steve’s kissing Dustin back, all careful and shit like he’s trying to coax Dustin out of his frantic search for Steve’s tonsils and into something slow and gentle, and holy fuck, what if it’s contagious?
Eddie rears back until he feels the lower part of the steering wheel dig into his spine. Shit, he hopes it’s not already airborne.
“Um,” he says, and his voice feels startlingly loud in the relative silence of the car.
It seems to be enough to snap Steve partially out of it, and Eddie watches as he reaches up to cup the back of Dustin’s head, tugging at his curls in an attempt to direct his attention away from Steve’s mouth. When it doesn’t work, Steve simply turns his face away to break the kiss, and Dustin grumbles as the motion bumps his nose against Steve’s cheek and smears his lips across the line of Steve’s jaw. He tries to chase after Steve’s mouth again, but Steve uses his grip on Dustin’s hair to angle his face down towards his shoulder instead, and Dustin grunts in disapproval before he seems to realize the potential of this new position. A moment later he literally starts to lick at Steve’s neck, all the while making soft, pleased noises like whatever he’s tasting is the best he’s ever had.
“So, uh,” Eddie says, because from what little he can see in the dim light Steve doesn’t appear as high as Dustin is – even if he is letting Dustin go to town on his neck – which means he can probably carry on a conversation.
“Swear to god,” Steve pants, his eyes sharp as he meets Eddie’s gaze, “if you give him shit about this…”
He trails off, the threat clearly implied, and for a split second Eddie thinks he can see some of King Steve glaring back at him, like something from years passed. But then Dustin paws at Steve’s face, breathing his name like he’s still coherent enough to realize that Steve’s gone tense against him, and then the moment is gone as Steve seems to soften against the touch.
“I don’t judge!” Eddie blurts out, because it’s the truth, even though he’s still not really sure what the hell is happening right now.
He watches Dustin curl his hand around the back of Steve’s neck, and he seems to be whispering words against Steve’s skin that Eddie can’t quite make out the meaning of, but whatever he’s saying has Steve’s face flushing pink, and suddenly Eddie realizes that this isn’t Steve throwing himself on the sword for Dustin’s sake like he’s done so many times before – like he’s done for all of them; for Dustin, and Robin, and the rest of the kids, and even for Eddie himself.
No, this is something already in place, because Dustin doesn’t seem to have to think too hard about what to say or how to touch Steve to have him pressing back against Dustin’s hands and mouth – even though Steve’s clearly trying to be subtle about doing it.
“What,” Eddie says, and Steve sighs.
“We’re together,” he explains, and yeah, Eddie’s starting to get that, seeing as how Dustin’s mouthing at Steve’s neck like some kind of remora about to hitch a ride.
“Clearly,” Eddie sputters. “My next question would be, since fucking when?”
Because sure, Dustin’s been making eyes at Steve for as long as Eddie’s known him, but that’s just what Dustin does; everyone knows he’s got this thing when it comes to Steve, and before today Eddie might have joined the others in rolling his eyes at the kid’s apparently chronic case of hero worship, but maybe he should have realized that Dustin hasn’t been so much intensely admiring Steve’s way with the ladies as he’s been mentally undressing him with his mind.
“Ew,” Eddie says, squirming as he can’t help but imagine it, and Steve shoots him a questioning look. “Sorry. Uh, so...?”
“Since after Vecna,” Steve informs Eddie.
“Huh,” Eddie says, and he thinks back to the times leading up to Vecna and after, too, when Dustin would launch into one of his lectures and how Steve would roll his eyes and interrupt him mid-sentence and rile him up enough to forget what it was he was talking about, and it’s all for show, Eddie realizes.
Steve’s been pulling Dustin’s pigtails for as long as Dustin’s been eyeing him across the room, basking in the kid’s attention whenever he manages to catch it, just like he is now – huffing as he slaps Dustin’s hands away whenever they start to trail south, but not restraining him like he would if he actually wanted him to stop.
“So it’s not the, uh, plant stuff?” Eddie asks, because he remembers being sixteen and getting turned on by literally everything, and if he’d had a girlfriend back then he’d probably be trying to cop a feel at every chance he got, plant stuff or no plant stuff.
Steve shoots him a look that clearly tells Eddie that Steve thinks he’s an idiot.
“Of course it’s the plant stuff!” he says. “He’s literally trying to have sex with me while you’re watching! You think that’s normal?!”
“Right,” Eddie says, scratching at his chin. “I meant the, uh, enthusiasm.”
Steve pointedly ignores him in favor of touching his palm to Dustin’s forehead again, which probably means that Eddie’s right and that Dustin trying to grope Steve like it’s his main mission in life is most likely a regular thing and something Dustin very much enjoys to partake in.
“I think he’s got a fever,” Steve says. He looks a bit worried now, enough so that he either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care when Dustin sneaks a hand up the front of his shirt to touch his chest. “Okay, change of plans. We can’t take him home.”
Eddie grimaces. “Why not?”
“You think we’re gonna solve this in the thirty minutes it’ll take his mom to get home?” Steve snaps, and it makes sense now why he knows Mrs. H’s schedule by heart seeing as he’s apparently screwing her son on the down-low.
It’s almost admirable in a way.
“I guess not,” Eddie mutters as Dustin tries to throw a leg over Steve’s lap and climb on.
“My parents are in town for the weekend,” Steve says, grabbing Dustin by the hips and thankfully putting a stop to any kind of humping, and then he shoots Eddie a pointed look.
“Aw, fuck me,” Eddie sighs.
//
Once Eddie had woken up from his pesky little bat-induced coma and been strong-armed into signing an ironclad NDA, the government had apparently felt a bit sorry about how things had gone down; they’d covered all of his hospital bills before offering his uncle a check as compensation for the loss of the trailer, presenting it as a stimulus package meant for those affected by the surprising and unfortunately located earthquake, and Wayne, apparently not wanting to look a gift horse in the mouth, hadn’t thought twice about accepting the money.
Sadly, their trailer hadn’t been worth much in the first place – was probably more valuable to science as part of a gaping hell gate than it had ever been to anyone as a regular mobile home – so the check hadn’t covered much more than a new trailer at the other end of the park. Still, Eddie’s new pad is a bit larger than the old one and not so rundown, so all in all he thinks maybe he came out of the whole thing on top after all – new house, new girlfriend, new friends, and a couple of cool new scars. Pretty good deal for spending a few hours getting chomped on by interdimensional bats.
“You sure he’s not back until next week?” Steve asks as they haul Dustin up the trailer steps.
“For the last time, yes,” Eddie snaps.
Watching Dustin openly try to shove his hand down the front of Steve’s pants as they manhandle him into the living room, Eddie almost wishes Wayne had been home so that he’d had an excuse not to bring them back here.
“Great,” Steve says, “here, take him,” and then he somehow extracts himself from Dustin’s handsy grip and shoves him at Eddie instead.
“No,” Dustin mutters as Eddie catches him by the shoulders, squirming like a cat about to take a bath as he tries to get away. “Steve! I need—”
“I’m just gonna make a quick call,” Steve assures him as he heads into Eddie’s kitchen.
He quickly locates the phone and mumbles to himself as he dials the number from memory, and Eddie probably shouldn’t find that so reassuring, but it is what it is; he hadn’t been lying before when he’d said he has a healthy fear of authority – when it comes Owens, Eddie will happily admit to actually almost respecting the guy, even.
He walks Dustin closer, wanting to hear what Owens has to say, and Dustin seizes the chance to wiggle his way free of Eddie’s arms and dart around the kitchen counter to plaster himself up along Steve’s back. He plants his face between Steve’s shoulder blades, inhaling deeply into his shirt and groaning like it’s the best thing he’s ever smelled, and Steve curses, shoving the phone at Eddie and trying to twist around to get Dustin off, but Dustin just goes with it, twirling with Steve like they’re enjoying a dance as he sneaks his hands up the front of Steve’s shirt to pet at his happy trail.
“I got it,” Eddie reassures Steve and leans against the counter, twirling the cord around his fingers as he listens to the phone ring.
There’s a click as the call connects, and then on the other end of the line; “Hello?”
“Owens, my man!” Eddie crows, and there’s a moment of silence as Owens appears to try and place Eddie’s voice.
“Mr. Munson,” he sighs once he does, and he sounds so resigned to the inevitability of the coming conversation that Eddie can’t help but grin. “Once again, I have to remind you that you’re only to call me in the case of an emergency.”
“Yeah,” Eddie says as he watches Steve yank Dustin’s hands away from his belt, trying to stop the kid from turning things from PG-13 to X-rated. “About that...”
He gives Owens a quick rundown of their evening so far, mindful of Steve’s glare as he leaves out any mention of his and Dustin’s relationship, and Owens sighs like he’s heard it all before and is getting real tired of it.
“And he ingested some of it?” he asks.
“Got him right in the face,” Eddie happily confirms.
“Well, it’s not the first time we’ve encountered it,” Owens says. “Fortunately, it’s relatively harmless. It just needs to run its course, I’m afraid.”
Eddie turns to look at the fridge magnets as Dustin finally realizes that he’s in prime position to hump Steve’s ass.
“And that means?” Eddie says, ignoring Steve’s squeak of surprise.
“It’s just like a fever,” Owens explains. “You mentioned he seems to be running a temperature. It’ll burn through his body eventually, but until it does he’ll just have to—”
“Spank the monkey,” Eddie helpfully supplies.
“—see it through,” Owens continues.
“Right,” Eddie says. “So, hypothetically, if he had someone that could help with that...”
“It’s not contagious.” Owens sounds almost amused now. “Having a partner will help him get through it faster, but he should be able to manage fine on his own as well. Though I feel like I need to remind you of the need-to-know basis of—”
“Don’t sweat it, Doc,” Eddie interrupts. “His girl already signed all your papers.” He grins and looks over his shoulder in time to catch Steve’s scowl.
“Then it shouldn’t last more than eight or so hours from the time of exposure,” Owens tells him. “Call me if his symptoms get any worse. I’ll send a team to take care of the infestation. And please, Mr. Munson, tell Mr. Henderson not to take it upon himself to explore any more houses in the future, haunted or otherwise.”
‟Will do,” Eddie promises just in time before Owens hangs up in his ear.
“So?” Steve prompts as Eddie puts the phone back in its cradle.
“So,” Eddie says, “you gotta fuck him.”
Steve blinks. “Owens did not say that,” he says.
Dustin’s still pressed up against his back, mouthing at Steve’s shoulder through his shirt, and Steve’s got the kid’s hands pinned against his own stomach in an apparent attempt to stop them from wandering any further south. Doesn’t stop Dustin from enthusiastically rubbing his crotch against Steve’s ass, though.
“Oh, but he did!” Eddie grins. “So, where do I have the pleasure of chauffeuring you this lovely evening?”
Steve narrows his eyes, like he’s considering his options very carefully. “Do you have clean sheets?”
“What?”
“Your bed,” Steve says. “Are the sheets clean?”
Eddie’s jovial mood falters. “You’re not doing it in my bed.”
“You have a better idea?”
Eddie spreads his arms wide. “Uh, literally anywhere else?”
The corner of Steve’s mouth quirks. “Okay,” he says, “your couch looks comfy enough.”
Eddie watches in horror as he lets go of Dustin’s hands, and Dustin immediately drops them down to tug at Steve’s belt, almost frantic in his rush to get it undone.
“C’mon, man,” Eddie pleads, and Steve takes pity on him and grabs Dustin’s wrists again, raising them to press them against his stomach.
“Look,” Steve says, “you think I wanna go anywhere near your damn bed? He’s burning up. He’s probably gonna end up with brain damage if we wait any longer.”
Steve looks so fiercely earnest that, after a split second of hesitation, Eddie finally edges close enough to be able to reach out and touch Dustin if he wanted to. Even from more than a foot away he imagines that he can feel the heat radiating off the kid.
“Shit,” he says as he spots a bead of sweat trail down Dustin’s temple. “Fuck. Can’t he just rub one out or something? Take the edge off?”
“I don’t think he wants to,” Steve dryly replies, and Eddie can admit that yeah, Dustin’s fixation definitely seems to be focused more on touching Steve than himself.
Eddie sighs. “The mattress is fucking new, y’know,” he laments.
“Great,” Steve says. “Sheets?”
“Unbelievable,” Eddie mutters as he turns to go grab some new bedclothes out of the closet. “You’re pretty high maintenance, you know that?”
//
Eddie makes the bed as Steve tries to distract Dustin by letting him strip off Steve’s shirt, but by the time Eddie’s fluffing the last of the pillows, it’s predictably devolved into humping again.
“Okay,” Eddie says, dropping the dirty bedclothes to the floor and kicking them to the side, “what about safety?”
Steve shoots him a distracted glance. “You mean condoms?” he asks, grabbing Dustin’s wrists to keep his hands from wandering.
‟Cond—” Eddie frowns. “No, I mean like actual physical safety! And what, you don’t have any condoms?”
Steve squirms as Dustin nips at the back of his neck. “Not on me!”
“What about the car?” Eddie gestures in the general direction of where they parked outside.
Steve makes a face. ”We don’t use them,” he mutters, and that’s more than Eddie ever wanted to know.
“Oh god.” His shoulders drop as he considers the future state of his mattress. He’s going to have to fucking burn it, isn’t he?
“I mean, you have some, right?”
Eddie purses his lips. “No,” he admits.
“But—” Steve frowns. “You and Chrissy—”
“We’re taking it slow, alright?!”
Steve blinks. “It’s been six months!”
“She’s a classy girl!”
“Okay, fine!” Steve says as Dustin starts working on another impressive hickey at the base of his neck. “No problem. We’ll just, uh— What was the other thing you said?”
“Safety,” Eddie says, and Steve looks confused. “I mean, what should I expect?”
“What?”
Eddie points at Dustin. “C’mon, man. He’s fucked out of his mind. Who knows what will happen. What if he ends up hurting you? We need some kind of code word you can tell me so that I know when to save you!”
“Uh,” Steve says. “We absolutely do not need that.”
“But what if he gets super strength mid-fuck or something?”
Steve frowns. “Did Owens mention that?”
“No,” Eddie admits, “but I’m a worrier! I worry!” When Steve rolls his eyes, Eddie adds, “At least tell me if you guys are loud? No judgment, man. It’s cool if you are, but I need to know in case I have to tell a good scream from a bad scream.”
Steve takes a deep breath. “I’m gonna kill him,” he vows as he closes his eyes. “As soon as he’s better, he’s dead.”
“So?” Eddie prompts. “He’s loud, right? I mean, let’s be honest; he’s always loud.”
“Oh my god,” Steve groans. “No. Just— Shut up.”
“C’mon, tell me!”
Steve purses his lips as he glares at Eddie, though the effect is slightly ruined by Dustin hooking his chin over Steve’s shoulder so that he can suck at his earlobe.
“It can literally mean the difference between life and death!” Eddie needles.
Steve exhales. “I’m loud,” he bites out. “When I’m— When he fucks me, I get loud. Okay?”
“When he— Oh.” Eddie blinks as he digests this new piece of information. “Oh.”
“Yeah, oh,” Steve mocks. “Tell anyone and you’re dead.” He looks like he means it.
“Lots of threats tonight,” Eddie mutters. He doubts anyone would believe him anyway if he told them that Steve Harrington likes to take it up the ass. “Right. So I’ll just—” He jerks a thumb at the door.
“Please,” Steve sighs as Dustin starts in on his other earlobe.
“Just gotta—” Eddie bends down to drag the box containing his porno stash out from below the bed. “Some Vaseline for you guys, to keep things nice and slippery. Already opened, but beggars can’t be choosers, am I right?”
He tosses the container onto the bed and kicks the box back where it belongs before turning to pluck a cassette tape off his desk.
“And for me,” he says, wiggling the tape, ‟some nice music to drown out all the, uh, activities, if you get my drift.”
Steve responds by looking him straight in the eyes and demonstratively releasing Dustin’s hands.
“Good point,” Eddie says and makes a beeline for the door.
//
He manages to find a fine balance between a volume low enough not to have the neighbors come knocking to complain and loud enough to drown out everything else, because Steve had not been lying about being loud.
It’s the transitions between songs that are the worst, Eddie decides as he lies back on the couch and blinks up at the ceiling; namely, the few seconds when the music completely cuts off and he can hear his bed frame thump against the wall like it’s got its own rhythm going on. He can hear Steve too, of course, and it was probably a good thing that they had a talk about it because sometimes he really does sound like he’s in pain, only Eddie would like to think that even without prior knowledge he would have been able to figure out that yes and harder and fuck are good words.
Damage, Inc. fades into silence and Eddie scrambles off the couch to flip the tape before the chorus of ah! ah! ah! ah! coming from the other side of the wall is somehow permanently ingrained into his auditory memory.
He could leave and sneak into Chrissy’s bedroom to spend the night, and he considers doing just that as the opening chords of Battery starts to play, but he thinks he’d end up regretting it if something did happen to either of the two idiots currently defiling his bed and he wasn’t around to help. Not that he’d be that disappointed if Dustin should end up breaking his dick right about now, since that would probably help put an end to things.
Eddie settles back into the couch for his fourth listen to the tape. It’s almost exactly fifty-five minutes long, which means they’re coming up on hour five soon, and he might be imagining it but he thinks the tempo of the bed frame tapping against the wall has grown a bit less frantic over the past hour.
Eddie purses his lips before leaning forward to hit pause on the player. Yeah, they’re still going at it, but it’s not as bad as it used to be, by far. Eddie heaves himself off the couch and makes his way over to his bedroom door, hesitating a moment before knocking.
“Welfare check!” he loudly announces, steeling himself as he cracks the door open and squeezes his eyes closed.
There’s a groan and then a whimper and it’s impossible to tell who makes which sound. The bed frame continues to knock against the wall like neither of them care that he’s obviously listening.
“A sign that everything’s okay would be appreciated!” Eddie calls. “Seriously. Any kind of sign!”
“Oh god,” Steve groans. “We’re fine! It’s fine!” His voice is completely shot, breath hitching with each word like Dustin’s nailing him just right, and Eddie’s starting to suspect that Owens is wrong about it not being contagious because no way should Steve still be able to keep up after this many hours.
“Thanks!” Eddie tells them and then hurries to close the door because he is not about to catch some kind of Upside Down STD – at least not without Chrissy close by.
He probably will have to burn the mattress once they’re done, he thinks with a sigh. And the bedclothes too, and maybe take a flamethrower to the whole room for good measure. He wonders if Owens will lend him one, and if he’ll also take pity on Eddie in the aftermath once more, or if the government will count it as self-inflicted damage by way of stupidity and force him to keep living in a half-burned trailer.
He pauses as he passes the kitchen, catching sight of the water bottles on the counter. He doesn’t really want to go back, but he is the host of this weirdly monogamous sex party after all, and hydration is important when you’re working up a sweat due to a chemically induced sex marathon. The water’s room temperature but he supposes that’s better than nothing, and so he grabs two bottles and makes his way back to the bedroom.
“Water break!” he announces as he cracks the door open and lobs the bottles in the direction of the bed.
There’s a surprised yelp, and some swearing, and he can see one of Steve’s hands clawing at the sheets, white-knuckled as he grabs a fistful of fabric and pulls, and then Eddie slams the door closed again, a job well done.
//
Somewhere along the line, he manages to succumb to exhaustion and fall asleep on the couch. It’s daybreak by the time he’s startled awake again, and for a moment he doesn’t know what woke him, but then he realizes someone’s calling his name.
“What?” he croaks, rubbing at his eyes.
“I said, I’m gonna take a shower.” It’s Steve, his voice hoarse enough that it makes Eddie wince in sympathy. “Can you keep an eye on Dustin until I get back?”
Eddie grimaces. “I guess,” he grumbles.
He pushes himself up off the couch and makes his way into the small hallway past the kitchen just in time to see Steve gingerly stumble to the bathroom at the opposite end of the hallway. He’s got a sheet wrapped around his waist and one hand out to brace himself against the wall as he staggers wide-legged through the bathroom door, moving slowly enough to either have had a pretty painful or a fucking fantastic night. Judging by the hickeys trailing down his spine and disappearing beneath the sheet, Eddie figures anyone could tell that it’s the latter.
Steve closes the door behind him and a moment later the shower groans to life as Eddie pokes his head into the bedroom, where he finds Dustin lying face down on the bed, completely out for the count; he doesn’t so much as twitch as Eddie steps into the room and leans against the dresser to stand guard, a bit unsure what Steve thinks might happen and what Eddie’s supposed to do about it.
If Dustin wakes up ready and raring to go for round eighty-five, Eddie’s definitely not going to stop him from kicking the bathroom door down and cornering Steve in the shower – the kid can be slippery like an eel in normal circumstances, but naked and covered in Vaseline and hour-old spunk? Yeah, Eddie’s not going anywhere near that.
Steve at least had the decency to cover Dustin up before calling Eddie over, and the blanket pools at the small of Dustin’s back, giving him an air of modesty but at the same time riding too low to hide the way his shoulders and upper back are all scratched to hell – kid’s got game, apparently, which is honestly not something Eddie’s ever wanted to know.
He turns his attention away from the bed and listens to the sound of the shower running, smirking at the thought of Steve having to resort to using Wayne’s all-in-one body wash on his precious hair. Wayne swears by it, but Eddie can picture Steve’s look of disgust when he realizes what he’s got to work with because, with locks like that, he must be used to the good stuff. Eddie almost wishes he was there to experience Steve’s face firsthand, but at the same time he’s seen far more of Steve than he’s ever wanted to in the past few hours, so he feels pretty good about staying right where he is, too.
A soft sound has Eddie turning his attention back to the bed, where Dustin’s starting to make low, snuffling noises as he begins to come out of his sleep. Eddie watches as he stretches his arms out, frowning as he fumbles along the mattress like he’s looking for something that’s not there, and then Dustin grunts and cracks his eyes open, blearily staring at the open door.
Neither he nor Steve must have gotten any more sleep than Eddie, so he has no idea how they’re both up and functioning right now. Something left over from the plant, maybe – residual adrenaline or sex hormones or whatever – and Eddie almost wishes he could have some too, because he’s feeling pretty beat right now.
“Ow,” Dustin mutters, and Eddie watches in amusement as he slowly rolls over onto his side and finally spots Eddie standing a few feet away.
“Good morning,” Eddie cheerfully tells him.
Dustin squeaks, his eyes widening as he fumbles for the blanket, clutching it to his chest like he’s some kind of twelfth-century maiden. “Where—” He looks around, appearing lost for a moment before realizing exactly where he is. “What—?”
“You sure had some night last night,” Eddie tells him. “How much do you remember?”
Dustin whimpers. “Eddie,” he says, “why does my dick feel weird?”
Eddie looks up at the ceiling and bites the inside of his cheek in an attempt not to break out in a cackle. “That’s what happens,” he drawls, “after an all-night sex marathon.”
“What?” Dustin shrieks, and when Eddie glances back down at him he’s looking a bit green around the gills. “You and me—? No!”
“Kept me up all night,” Eddie sighs as he shakes his head. “I barely got any sleep.”
Dustin’s looking panic-stricken enough that Eddie decides he probably won’t keep it going much longer, but sadly he doesn’t even have an opportunity to try because Steve suddenly comes limping back into the room, hair dripping and a towel tied around his waist, as if he could sense Dustin waking up and decided to cut his shower short.
“Don’t scare him,” he scolds Eddie as Dustin takes in the state of him – hoarse and covered in hickeys and unsteady on his feet as he carefully lowers himself down on the edge of the mattress – and draws the obvious conclusion.
“Oh thank fuck,” Dustin mutters and collapses back against the bed.
“I feel like I should feel offended,” Eddie says, and Steve huffs and reaches out to pat Dustin’s ankle. “So everyone good? No broken dicks? Or, uh, asses?”
Dustin glances over at Steve, biting his lip like he’s waiting for his reply, and Steve looks resigned, like he doesn’t really want to answer but will, for Dustin’s sake.
“I’m fine,” he says, “apart from, uh—” He brushes his hair back from his face so that Eddie can see the bruise beginning to darken the skin around his left eye.
Dustin makes a strangled noise and pushes himself up on his knees, getting himself tangled in the blanket and nearly giving Eddie a very unwelcome show in his haste to crawl over to where Steve’s sitting so that he can anxiously hover over him. Steve tilts his head back to allow Dustin to get a good look, and Dustin whimpers as he gently touches his fingertips along the edge of the black eye.
“Did I do that?” he asks mournfully.
Steve snorts. “No,” he says, “that’s from some genius braining me with a water bottle.”
Dustin jerks his head up to glare at Eddie.
“Really?” Eddie says. “That you remember?”
Dustin huffs and wraps his arms around Steve’s shoulders, pressing his chest up against Steve’s back.
“I remember lots of things,” he murmurs, fingers stroking along Steve’s collarbones as he turns his head to nose at Steve’s temple. “Lots.”
Eddie watches Steve lean into the touch. “I’m not liking where this is going,” he tells them, and Steve at least has the decency to look apologetic as Dustin hums and slips a hand down to run his fingers through Steve’s chest hair.
“I don’t think he’s gotten it all out of his system yet,” Steve says, like he’s not pushing his chest up into Dustin’s touch, and whatever’s still lingering in their bloodstream, Steve’s definitely not unaffected.
“No shit,” Eddie says. He crosses his arms. “I’ll let you stay on one condition.”
Steve raises his eyebrows. “Uh, I don’t think you have much of a choice in letting us stay,” he says, which is a good point; they’d probably end up fucking in the grass right outside Eddie’s trailer if he threw them out of the front door.
“Be that as it may,” Eddie says, “you owe me a new bed.”
“Deal,” Dustin says, squirming as he presses himself along Steve’s back. “Now get out.”
Eddie snorts. “Please, like you have that kind of cash lying around.”
He turns his attention to Steve, who looks back at him, appearing a bit breathless as Dustin starts to pluck at where the towel’s tucked around his waist.
“Mattress,” Steve chokes out.
“Bed,” Eddie repeats. “Just say ’bed’ and I’ll go and then your tiny boyfriend can stick his dick wherever you want it.”
“Oh god,” Steve groans, “you’re such an asshole.” He bites his lip, like he’s considering it. “Mattress,” he says, “and pillows and blankets and sheets. No bed frame.”
Eddie makes a show out of thinking about it, though in reality it’s more a question of how long he can call his own bluff and stomach staying in the room before he has to flee for the sake of his own sanity.
“Deal,” he says as Dustin starts to pull the towel open, and Eddie turns around at what seems like the very last second. “I’d shake on it,” he says as he stares resolutely at the wall, “but given the circumstances...”
Steve lets out a broken moan, like Dustin’s managed to get his hand on exactly what he’s been looking for, and Eddie fumbles for the doorknob.
“You better be able to still walk after this,” he informs Steve over his shoulder, “’cause I’m not carrying you out!” and then he steps into the hallway and slams the door closed behind him, cutting off Steve’s mumbled reply.
It’s time to hit Owens up about that flamethrower.