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Steve Harrington is always so cold.
Physically, at least.
Personality-wise, Eddie thinks, Steve's the fucking sun. All golden and pouring light into everything, pouring life into everyone. This constant supply of seemingly never ending energy that gives and gives and gives.
Eddie stresses the "seemingly" to himself. He's seen Steve when he thinks no one is looking, when the kids have their heads bowed over a game, or they run ahead of the rest of them while Nancy yells at them to slow down. Watched that light dim, just a bit As though he wilts when there's nothing for him to direct all that warmth towards.
And, there's the fact that Steve is always cold.
He first truly noticed it in the aftermath of it all. Battles fought and won, everyone wounded but alive which is more than they ever dared to hope for. Eddie himself was still on the mend, still recovering from bits of himself being ripped away in the upside down. Sometimes he can still taste the blood in his mouth and the drag of gravel and wet earth beneath his back as Henderson dragged him, screaming back towards the opening.
Eddie had stumbled around, checking that everyone was more or less in one piece. He went to Henderson first because of course he did- the kids, Robin, Nancy and Jonathan. All fine, but covered in bruises and shallow cuts. Nothing that would stay. When he finally reached Steve all he could register was the profound sense of relief coursing through him.
"Harrington," He had breathed. Blood oozed freely from a gash in Steve's head and he was covered in grime and ichor of some kind. But he was alive. "That doesn't look too good." Without a thought, he ripped the bottom of his shirt, wadding it to press against Steve's forehead. A distant voice in his subconscious screamed infection and hospitals, but Eddie paid it no mind. Stopping the bleeding was the first priority.
"Christ, Steve, are you okay?" One of Eddie's hands cradled the back of Steve's neck, keeping him still, while the other pressed the fabric into the cut. Despite the sweat Eddie could feel slicking his palm on Steve's skin, he felt noticeably chill underneath Eddie's hands- concernedly so.
Steve blinked up at him, big eyes and lips parted. Eddie added copious blood loss to his list of growing concerns.
A little smile tugged at the corners of Steve's mouth. His hand came up, covering over Eddie's along the back of his neck- even his hands are freezing- as he breathed a laugh, sagging in Eddie's hold.
"I am fucking fantastic, Eddie."
Steve's head then completely fell forward, resting right on Eddie's stomach as he promptly lost consciousness.
Eddie Munson radiates heat.
Space heater on max, sitting next to a campfire, personal furnace hot.
And, in a part of himself that he was still freshly exploring with Robin's constant and enthusiastic assistance, Steve did mean hot in two senses of the word.
"Babe, you're staring," Robin murmurs to him as she claims her spot next to Steve, feet dangling off the edge of the pool and splashing her feet into the water. She hands him a drink, the outside already slick with condensation.
It's a beautiful day, just on the cusp of too warm. The idea of a "pool day" had sent all the kids into a frenzy of excitement. They're slowly taking back the good things of Hawkins, writing over all of the darkness. Steve and Nancy had shared a look earlier as Mike, Will, Dustin, and Lucas pushed and pulled each other into the water, a squeeze of some trepidation and fear lingering around pools and water and things reaching from the depths. Steve had forced an expression of comforting reassurance, sending her a look that said it's over- it's okay. They're kids. Let them have this.
Nancy's own expression read I know that. I know we're safe. But I can't help and feel like we're not.
Steve didn't have any words or special looks to refute that, especially with his own swell of anxiety pressing on his chest. But, he plastered on his best smile and led the cheer for El's cannonball into the deep-end and even celebrated with everyone when the water reached far enough to splash Max. Max shrieked joyfully at the cold spray.
She's beneath an umbrella to block the worst of the sun, with thick, dark hospital-issued lenses perch on her face. There had never been a question of whether or not Max would join them poolside, only how to make her the most comfortable as she continued to recover from the worst of her injuries. The sun still felt like a stabbing pain to her, hence the umbrella and the glasses.
Steve had lifted her with a, "Okay, sweetie? 1, 2, 3-" From her wheelchair to the lounge chair, cushioned with pillows against her back that the boys hauled off the other furniture. Max could walk short distances now, but every time she did Steve's stomach dropped out from under him and Lucas started chewing on his nails something fierce. But she has looked so happy, with Lucas sitting beside her until she waved him off to go swim- saying something teasing about how she didn't need a babysitter- like everything was perfect. Steve at least agreed with that. It was as perfect of a day as it could get.
"I'm not staring," He responded, taking a sip from his drink. Maybe he was staring. He was specifically trying not to.
"Oh yeah? You've got a little something there-" Robin reached over and wiped at his chin, the corner of his mouth.
"I am not drooling-" He batted her hands away even though they're both smiling.
He's not drooling, but he is looking far more than he means to. How can he not when Eddie is shirtless, wet, and glistening in the sunlight in a way that is making Steve's head rush? Eddie laughs and cannonballs next to El and there's a new wave of shrieking and laughter to be had. Eddie's head pokes up out of the water, and immediately Dustin is on him with a battle cry to try and push him under. Eddie gets his arms under the boy and launches him up and then back into the water.
Dustin comes up sputtering and laughing with a yell of, "Get him!" And suddenly the band of misfits in the water have a common enemy.
"Come on! I'll take the lot of ya'!" Eddie's grin is wild and infectious and suddenly there's a splash war happening in the shallow end as the kids try to take Eddie down into the water.
"Have you talked to him yet?" The look he gives Robin for that comment is equal part incredulous and amused.
"Robin."
"What!" Her shoulder knocks his. "I was just asking."
"Yeah that's an awesome conversation," Steve lowers his voice to a murmur, only for Robin's ears. "Hey Eddie, remember when we saved the world a few months ago and that time you got eaten by freaking bats? Somewhere along there, I figured out a lot between you holding a broken bottle to my neck and watching you play a guitar and thought 'let's go get dinner' but it just never felt like the right time. Sorry if this makes things awkward for you- you know, with you being forced to live in my house. Oh! By the way, do you even like guys because Robin and I have been debating and-"
Robin's got her whole hand over his mouth. "He's swimming over here, dingus." Steve licks her palm and she shrieks, wipes the spit across his face.
"Buckley!" Eddie has indeed made his way to their end of the pool, swimming near where their legs dangle into the cool water. He shakes his hair, sending droplets of water onto them. Robin retaliates by using her foot to splash back at him.
"You here to cause trouble?" Robin's voice is gruff and low, her best imitation of Hopper. It makes Steve laugh every time, and this time is no different.
Eddie's eyes are sparkling. Steve wants to drown himself because when has he ever thought in his life that someone's eyes are sparkling.
"Just though you loners looked awful bored over here," Eddie says, all innocence and wide eyes. He turns the full force of his gaze onto Steve as he swims even closer. "You don't want to get in?"
Steve chin is practically resting on his chest from the way he has to look down at Eddie from this angle. "Maybe later." He smiles because he just can't help it. He's so impossibly happy. If it was only ever this, it would still be more than Steve had ever dared to dream.
Eddie puts his hand around Steve's ankle, slides it up his calf. Eddie's hands are warm despite the chill of the pool water. "Hawkins Swim Team champ- won't even get in." Eddie tsks, disappointed. "Whatever will we do?" Eddie's hand is a molten band around the back of Steve's calf, sliding up, up, up to the soft bend of his knee.
"Eddie." Soft. Catching a little in his throat. He's acutely aware of Robin's stare boring into the side of his head.
"Yes, my liege?" Gravitas and teasing.
"What are you planning?"
"Oh, me? Nothing. Just on a little mission." Eddie's got both hands resting on Steve's legs now, keeping himself afloat by the anchor of Steve, not even needing to kick and tread water now. Eddie's looking up at him from practically between his legs and all Steve can think is this is about to be a goddamn problem for the entire party, but most of all for Eddie who is going to have a front row ticket to his problem. And then, Eddie winks and tugs just lightly enough on one of Steve's legs, like he's asking for something.
The blood that's supposed to be in Steve's brain is a little preoccupied at the current moment, so it takes him a second to translate the raised brow and the warm squeeze of Eddie's hands on his calf.
Little mission. Right. First point: Eddie's about to drag Steve into the pool.
Second point: Eddie's waited until he could see the understanding flicker across Steve's face, a quirk in Steve's mouth, a crinkle by his eyes. Their own silent language.
Third point: Eddie looks really, unfairly, stupidly attractive with droplets of water clinging to his lashes.
Fourth point: Steve knows beyond any shadow of a doubt that if he frowned, if he scrunched his nose in the slightest hint of displeasure, Eddie would swim back to the shallow end and grandly proclaim that he failed his mission of 'get Steve in the pool' and he would take the subsequent pummeling that the kids would dish out to him.
Fifth point…Sixth point… Steve's not confident in numbers right now. Who could blame him with Eddie this close? (Probably Robin.) He smiles down at Eddie and gives a wink of his own. Eddie's answering grin is enough to ward off the frigid plunge of being swiftly pulled into the water by warm and guitar-calloused hands. Hands that quickly cushion the back of Steve's head to make sure he doesn't hit the pool wall as he's dragged in.
Seventh point (maybe): Steve and Eddie don't immediately come up for air. For a moment they stay under the water. The familiar sting of chlorine burns Steve's eyes, but Eddie looks so happy under the water with him that Steve is considering the benefits of no oxygen. Eddie shrugs as much as he can- kids, what can you do? I had to get you.
Steve shrugs- I get it. I'm happy. They're happy. Make me your mission anytime.
They burst to the surface and Steve makes a show of sputtering and splashing, making sure to get Robin in the process, who is kicking and splashing him in return.
The kids are cheering from the shallow end. "He got Steve!" He hears.
"Now you're in for it, Munson." Steve tries to point threateningly, but it's hard to do so when treading water and smothering his own giggles.
"Oh yeah? Come catch me, swim champ."
They're still laughing as Steve gives chase.
They're watching a movie.
If you asked Eddie what movie he's sure he'd be able to drag up the title, but he couldn't tell you a single, solitary thing he's seen.
He's zeroed in on the stretch of Steve's thigh pressed against his on the couch.
Eddie's taken over a guest room upstairs. It just made sense after the everything of it all- the murder charges being dropped, sealing the Upside Down, stopping Vecna. Steve had extra space in the house after his parents tore out of town- leaving a frankly ridiculous sum in their only son's bank account and an entire house to run rampant in- and Eddie needed a place to stay where he wouldn't bring even more unwanted attention to his Uncle Wayne.
It was that or Hopper had offered to make some calls and set him up in the witness protection program. Even Eddie was shocked by how quickly and vehemently Steve had interrupted the man with a, "We're not doing that shit. Eddie can stay here." Hopper and Steve had stared each other down across the Harrington dining room table and eventually Joyce had touched the ex-cop's elbow gently, a look passing between them. Hopper had raised his brows at Steve and dropped the thought without another word.
But now after a few weeks of settling in, him and Steve do things like eat dinner together and repair cracks in the walls leftover from the almost-end-of-the-world and watch TV in the evenings. They have favorite spots on the couch. It's…Eddie's not sure if domestic is the word for it, but it feels like it.
Eddie takes one of the end spots. There's a side table that he puts his and Steve's cups on and passes a drink over to Steve whenever he nudges his arm. The first couple of times they settled in the living room, Steve sat on the other end of the couch, but was always shifting around, leather creaking beneath him.
Eddie had shot his eyes over the first few times the rustling interrupted, until eventually he sighed, "Listen, Harrington, if you don't want me in your space, I can-"
"No!" Steve, straightened immediately, turning to face Eddie. "It's not that at all. It's just. It's stupid, man."
"What is?"
"Nothing."
"Well now you gotta tell me."
"No, I don't."
"Yes, you do."
"No, I don't."
Eddie had sighed, flopped back against the couch and began a slow slide down the leather, holding his heart, "C'mon, Harrington, you're killing me here. And then you'll have to explain to Henderson why there's an Eddie-sized grave in the backyard."
Steve scowled and Eddie resisted the urge to reach out and smooth away the lines on his forehead. He was struck by how badly he wanted to in that moment- reach out, touch Steve's face, just to see if he'd let him.
"I'musedtosittinginthemiddle."
Eddie blinked. "I beg your finest pardon?"
"I'm used to sitting in the middle. This end isn't like, broken in."
"I'll break it in if you know what I mean," slipped out, unbidden. Eddie winced immediately.
"Seriously?" Steve still had the scowl, but his mouth had quirked up the slightest bit as he huffed.
"Sorry, reflex. But, dude. It's your couch. Sit in the middle if you want to sit in the middle."
"Well, I just- I was trying to be, like, polite and shit."
"It's your house- I don't think you have to be polite to the guy that you are letting crash at your house. Also, what's not polite about it, Mr. Finishing School?"
"What the hell is finishing school?"
"Deflecting, your honor." Eddie rapped his knuckles against the side table like a gavel.
Steve crossed his arms over his chest. "Like, being up all in your space. Who sits in the middle when there's two ends available?"
Eddie answered before his brain could catch up with his mouth. "Someone who's not used to sharing a couch with other people."
Steve's shoulders had tensed. He stilled for a moment, before shrugging, but it was off. Mechanical, too stiff to be casual. The pieces clicked a bit for Eddie then. It was a big couch. Comfy. Barely used despite being the best seat in the Harrington living room. Center of a big, shiny, empty house.
Steve was used to sitting in the middle because he never had to share. Maybe never had to was the wrong phrase, Eddie realized in that moment. Never could. Never got to.
Eddie cleared his throat. "Sorry."
"Don't be sorry. It's that only-child-spoiled-brat thing that Nance and Mike keep saying to me." Steve laughed, but it was all off. No sunshine, no warmth. Frost-bitten around the edges as he forced the sound out with a plastic casualness. Eddie loathed it. He didn't like Steve cold.
"Come on." Eddie patted the middle cushion. Steve looked startled by the sudden movement, nose scrunched slightly. "I'm used to squeezing on a two-seater with Wayne. It'll make me feel right at home."
Steve rolled his eyes but stayed put. He could see a debate that he couldn't fully understand happening behind Steve's eyes. He softened his tone, settled down a bit. "Come on, Steve, it's the best spot in the house. Middle seat, and you get to sit next to your second-favorite freak."
Steve huffed, but slid over to the middle stiffly, ramrod straight in a way that couldn't be comfortable. "Why are you second-favorite?"
"I figure Henderson's got me beat, easily," Eddie laughed, a little relieved that Steve hadn't dismissed the idea and left him in the living room by himself entirely.
"I thought you'd say Robin," Steve shifted slightly. He looked more comfortable every second that passed.
"Nah, Robin's not a freak. She's the best of us- Jesus, you're cold, Steve!"
A bit of Steve's leg had brushed his own, and Steve quickly retracted back. Eddie could already see the apology forming, but he stopped it before Steve could even form the words. Eddie reached around the back of the couch, yanking off the blanket placed there- probably for decor or some shit, but it was soft and looked warm enough- and threw it over Steve while he simultaneously dragged the other boy back towards him.
"Now you have to sit in the middle. I'm on making sure Steve doesn't freeze and I'm not the one digging the hole in the backyard duty." That startled a genuine laugh out of Steve, the kind that made him throw his head back a little.
"Whatever," Steve said. But, he settled fully, pressed against Eddie, but with the barrier of the blanket separating them now. Eddie threw an arm around the back of the couch, as naturally as he could now that his heart had taken up residence in his throat.
And from then on, that's how seating arrangements worked for them. Steve would sometimes try to sit with a cushion of space between them, but Eddie would drag him to his preferred middle seat, fussing like a mother hen as he cooed and tucked the blanket around Steve's body because it made Steve laugh that real, startled laugh. Plus, he was always so cold that it really did genuinely worry Eddie at times. Eddie would throw an arm around the back of the couch and pretend it didn't send his heart rate through the roof to feel the shape of Steve settle beside him through Steve's blanket.
At least, that's how seating arrangement worked for them. Until tonight.
Tonight, it seems Steve Harrington is on a mission to send him into cardiac arrest.
Eddie had noticed the new blanket that appeared in the living room- a queen-sized quilt. A little worn around the edges, with patterns of soft blues and greens. He didn't think much of it, figured it had been dragged out by one of the kids during last night's family movie night and he hadn't noticed until the morning.
But then, the evening arrived. It was a quiet night for Steve and Eddie- none of the boys were crashing on the couch, Jonathan and Nancy were likely out together, and Robin was working the late shift on her own. Another night in the tenuous domesticity settling between the two of them.
They sat on the couch as usual after Steve put in a movie- No Eddie, it's my turn to pick, I swear. Eddie knew it wasn't and let him anyways because Steve had endured a slasher flick for him the last time Eddie picked and Eddie had to pretend the whole time that he was paying attention to the screen and not to the way Steve sunk against his side at every flash of gore with loud complaints of It doesn't even look real- it's like they've never even seen real blood before, Eds.
And now the quilt. The TV flickers, sending out a soft glow that lit the planes of Steve's face so nicely that Eddie didn't notice for a moment Steve unfolding the new quilt from the back of the couch instead of his usual throw blanket. Eddie was studying the exact angle of the curl in Steve's hair at the nape of his neck when the quilt was thrown over him.
He blinked down at the blanket now covering him.
Him and Steve.
Steve who was now pressed to his side, sans any blanket barrier. Those stupid shorts- and Eddie had cursed them many times before this moment- left the stretch of Steve's bare thigh tucked against Eddie, with only the barrier of Eddie's sweatpants separating them. Steve pulled the blanket up around them, as though this was always part of their little routine and leaned back against the cushion and- oh Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, Eddie thought. The back of Steve's shoulder overlapped with the front of Eddie's. Just barely. Enough to be an accident. Enough to just be a new level of comfort in this ever-quickly catching friendship they were developing. Enough to send every curse word that Eddie knew and a few he was making up on the spot to run through his mind.
All Eddie's brain could come up with was a choked out, "You're cold." Because it was true. He was used to it by now, that Steve seemed to permanently be a few degrees cooler than everyone else.
"You say that every night," Steve shook his head. Eddie instinctively brought the quilt up around them more, tucking it practically beneath Steve's chin. Steve shot him a look- God, he was so close- with something like fondness and exasperation all wrapped together. At least, Eddie hoped that was fondness. He thought it was.
"It's true every night." The scene changed in the movie. The new light sent a wash of pink over Steve. Eddie still didn't know what they were watching. "New blanket?"
Steve's eyes flickered down to the quilt. Dragged back up to meet Eddie's. If Eddie was more of a gambling man, he would have bet that his gaze lingered, just for a second on Eddie's mouth. "Thought you might be cold too," Steve murmured. Steve's tongue darted out, wetting his bottom lip. Not fair.
Eddie had to force out a strained laugh. If he didn't, he was going to lose his mind. "You just wanted to leech more warmth."
"Maybe. Prove it." Steve shrugged with a smirk and turned back to the screen, but didn't move away. Didn't settle more over to the middle cushion. Just stayed, wrapped up in their shared blanket and tucked against his side like a cat finding their new favorite perch.
Eddie put his arm along the back of the couch, like he always did. Steve fit right into the bend of his body like the space was carved especially for him. I could be happy with this, Eddie thought. Steve was laughing at something in the movie, relaxed and blinking sleepily every once in a while. I could be so happy with a lifetime of sharing blankets and warmth and telling him he's cold so that I can put an arm around him. I could survive a lifetime of looking and never really touching. I could, I could, I could.
But Eddie wasn't so sure he actually would survive it.
"This part is fun," Eddie insists. He knocks his hip against Steve- a brief contact of warmth that's there and gone again. "It's best if you mix it together with your hands."
Steve's nose scrunches as he looks at the butter and flour in the bowl. He knows he's got flour all over him already. He was seduced by sweet ideas like homemade pie and Eddie teaching him how to bake. He absolutely sure he looks like an idiot with the giant hand prints of white going down the front of his shirt but Eddie had just grinned at him and wiped his own flour covered hands across his dark jeans with a little quip of, Now we match.
"With our hands?" Steve clarifies. He's not sure how all those chunks of butter and flour are going to make a dough that actually tastes good, but he's willing to suspend his disbelief.
"You don't want to?"
Steve shrugs, and Eddie passes him a measuring cup filled with water that's ice cold through the glass. "Then you're on water duty. You'll add it in a little bit at a time while I'm mixing."
Steve nods. "I can do that."
"Good man." Eddie winks at him. Steve would dwell on that more except he's quickly entranced by the sight of Eddie methodically pulling off each of his rings.
"Whatcha doing?" Steve asks, clears his throat because the words came out slightly higher pitched than he meant to. How is it that he can feel a flush starting at the base of his throat just from watching Eddie remove some rings? They're goddamn hands, Harrington, Steve berates himself mentally, Pull it together. You pulled the cuddle-on-the-couch move last night like it was nothing. You're Steve Harrington, you can do this. Think of apple pie, vanilla ice cream, rolling out dough. Do you even actually roll out dough? Is that how pie dough works? Think of Eddie…pressing a slice of apple from his fingers into his mouth, past pink and kiss-swollen lips- no, not that thought, abandon ship on that thought-
"C'mere, big boy," Eddie says, and all of the sudden there's a finger in Steve's belt loop dragging him in close. Steve gets a whiff of Eddie's cologne, his deodorant, or maybe it's just all Eddie that gives him a head rush. Eddie's got all his rings in one hand, his fingers are bare. And then he slides his hand down into Steve's front pocket, safely depositing all that metal onto Steve's person. They clink as they fall together. Steve can feel the weight of them in his pocket. Eddie's hands burn, scalding hot through the thin layer of the denim pocket separating them. Eddie withdraws his hand and pats Steve's hip, casual as anything.
Steve's going to pass out. He's so out of his depth. They've jumped leaps and bounds over sharing a blanket on the couch.
"Keep those safe for me," Eddie says.
Steve's eyes meet Eddie's. He has to imagine Eddie's gaze flicking downward, toward his mouth where he's about to chew a hole through his bottom lip. They're standing practically chest to chest, and all that heat that Eddie carries around with him is leeching over to Steve.
And then Eddie turns and Steve is doing every breathing technique he's ever learned to not protest the sudden distance. Eddie's hands are in the flour and butter, kneading them together.
"I've got a good feeling about this one. I think it's going to be my best pie yet," Eddie says happily. Steve robotically pours in a splash of the ice water at Eddie's prompt.
"Oh yeah? Why's that?"
"The company is making it sweeter." And then Eddie laughs and shakes his head, as though he can't believe he said that.
"You're going mushy on me, Munson." Steve's white knuckling the poor, innocent measuring cup.
"Now you're getting it," Eddie responds. Eddie glances up at him. Despite the lightness in their tone, there's a serious set that comes to Eddie's brow as he catches Steve's eyes. Eddie licks his bottom lip, opens his mouth, "Steve…"
"Yeah?" Oh, he even sounds smitten. This is a new level of humiliating. He can't stop staring at Eddie's mouth, Eddie's hands, his shoulders stretching out Steve's shirt- yes, his shirt, because Eddie really wants to send him to an early grave and they've been doing their laundry together like a fucking married couple-
Eddie is wiping his hands on a kitchen towel. Eddie is turning towards him fully. Oh my god, Eddie Munson is going to kiss me. Steve has the thought and suddenly he knows that it's true.
The door to the kitchen swings open with a bang as it hits the wall. "We heard Steve is baking!" Lucas yells as they all cram through the door.
Steve jumps back, disoriented. His heart is trying to jump out of his chest. He manages to sputter out, "Oh, c'mon, guys- Eddie and I just fixed the last hole you made in here." He's hoping the annoyance in his voice comes across as concern for the house- the house that he couldn't care less about if the kids completely destroyed it from top to bottom as long as they had fun doing it.
"Smells good," Mike says, nose in the air.
"It absolutely does not, Wheeler, because we haven't even started the oven yet," Eddie smarts. He sounds a little breathless to Steve's ears.
Dustin knocks the back of Mike's head as they all start picking on the dark haired boy, giving Steve enough room to breathe for a second.
The only one not ragging on Mike is Will, who stands a pace back from everyone, quiet but with a wry little grin quirking up the corner of his mouth at the scene. Eddie's decided that the only logical course of action is to chase Mike around the kitchen with his flour covered hands while the others try to catch Mike and hold him still. Steve locks eyes with Will and he sends the younger boy a look that Steve hopes translates as Our idiots. What can you do?
Will's answering full-blown smile is almost worth the interruption.
"Nancy! And to what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?" Eddie is already stepping out of the doorway, having thrown it open to make room for her. She brushes past him. Nancy is about the only one left of the group that still bothers to knock, something that Eddie is starting to consider one of her most virtuous qualities.
"Mike left his cassette player here yesterday. I told him I would swing by and grab it. Is Steve home?"
"No, he and Robin had the same shift today, so he left to pick her up. I think Mike's player is in the kitchen, I saw it there last night." Nancy follows him through the entryway, heading towards to kitchen. "Aren't you guys coming over tomorrow for game night? Or did something change?"
A wry look appears on Nancy's face at that. "Oh yeah, we're still there. It's not the player that Mike wants back. It's the tape."
Eddie scans the kitchen counters, not understand the teasing note in Nancy's tone. He sees the player, decorated with its purple and yellow stripes, and picks it up to pass to Nancy. "It's a new tape?"
"Yeah, kind of. Will made it for him."
"Ahh," Eddie nods and Nancy gives him a secret little smile that he shares with her. They don't get to talk much, just him and Nancy, but Eddie finds that every time they do, he likes the other Wheeler more and more. "Well, it's a very important cassette then."
"Very important," Nancy agrees. Her eyes roam over him, assessing in a way that he's seen before. Nancy Wheeler is smart. She's good at puzzles, good at unearthing information- and suddenly Eddie feels like a clue under her microscope. "Are those Steve's pants?"
Eddie looks down at himself, but he already knows the answer. "Oh. Yeah, must be."
"Hmm." One of Nancy's eyebrows raises the tiniest bit.
"We've just been putting a lot of laundry together lately," He explains.
"Right."
"And Steve's been letting me borrow clothes since so much of my stuff got messed up in that last earthquake. Just until I get my own stuff. Would you call it an earthquake? Vecna-quake?"
"I think earthquake is fine."
"And he's just so nice. Steve. I mean. You know that of course!"
"Of course."
"Sorry, was that weird? But, you know. He's very. Giving. I mean what kind of guy just lets someone else move in, no questions asked? And share his clothes. And, like, space. And stuff."
"Mmm-hmm."
"Yeah…"
"Eddie?"
"…Yeah?"
"Are you and Steve dating?"
"What?" Eddie's face is burning. He's yearning for another earthquake to split open the earth under him. "No. Duh. What? Obviously."
"But you like him." Nancy doesn't phrase it as a question because it isn't one.
Eddie wilts a little. Leans back against the counter and crosses his arms. It's not so much a defensive stance as one that helps hold him together. "Everyone likes Steve," He says weakly. "He's Steve."
"Sure," Nancy agrees readily. She comes to stand beside him and they lean against the counter together, side by side. It makes Eddie feel better to not be so directly under her gaze. "But not the way you like Steve."
"Yeah," Eddie sighs. Rubs a hand that's only slightly shaking over his eyes. "I guess that's true."
Silence descends for a moment. "I…" Nancy bites the inside of her cheek. "Is it okay to say I've thought that for awhile?"
"You're smart, Nance. And for all my stunning qualities, I'm not a particularly quiet person about my feelings." Nancy laughs a little at that. "I'm surprised Steve hasn't kicked me to the curb yet."
Nancy's head whips around to stare at him. "You think he'd do that?" He's taken aback slightly at the sharpness in her voice.
"No," He answers honestly, "He's a good guy. But I really don't have it in me to get the 'that's nice, Munson, but I'm not gay' speech at this point. He's nice enough to let me stay here. We've got this whole, like, friendship shit going on. I've pushed it enough. I'm not gonna ruin that being selfish."
"Eddie." Nancy sighs. It's a long-suffering sigh, punctuated by her pinching the bridge of her nose. "At the risk of being a bad friend now for the sake of being a great friend later- I really think you should talk to him."
"Nancy-" He's already got a million and one protests bubbling up, but she cuts him off with a raised hand.
"Trust me, okay?" She picks up the cassette player resting on the counter between them. Hold it in her hands as she looks down at it. Her voice is soft and measured, "For the same reason we both know why Mike wants this tape back so badly he couldn't wait until tomorrow. Sometimes other people know before you do. Does that make sense?"
"Yeah." Without a word, she reaches out, as though she could sense exactly what he needed in that moment to ground himself. He takes her hand in his without a word. It's nice to have the contact, but a little voice in his head protests. Her hand isn't cold at all. "That makes sense."
"It's going to be okay. I know it."
"If you're wrong..." The thought catches somewhere in Eddie's chest, constricts his heart for a moment. It's all so delicate. House of cards and eggshells and flower petals.
Nancy rolls her eyes, but it doesn't feel dismissive. In fact, it oddly makes him feel better. It reminds him of how Mike rolls his eyes with great suffering before doing exactly what his friends want to do anyways.
"I'm rarely wrong, Eddie. You'll see."
They stand side-by-side in the kitchen for a long time, holding hands. Until the sun starts to set outside and Eddie doesn't feel quite so light-headed anymore. She leaves him with a hug and a smile and a promise. And, with Mike Wheeler's cassette player tucked under her arm.
Steve remembers being warm when he fell asleep.
He also remembers being tucked against Eddie, a movie playing softly in the background.
There's no warmth now. No Eddie either. The two are intertwined.
It's red and grey and so cold it hurts. There's a flash of crimson lightning.
No. It can't be, Steve thinks but it's useless. The Upside Down materializes around him even as he tries to will it away.
There's a screech high above him and Steve instinctively ducks. The bats. They're swarming and he needs to move. Now.
Steve starts to run, but the air is thick. It weighs down his limbs, makes him trip over the roots and twisted landscape. He can't feel his fingers.
The world is hazy and then suddenly it's pitch black and Steve is scrambling on hands and knees trying to feel where he's going. He can still hear the bats.
Warmth.
"Steve?" It's Eddie's voice. Beneath his hands.
Crimson illuminates the world in a flash and Steve can see again. He wishes he couldn't.
Beneath his hands is Eddie.
Eddie, whose blood is pouring from his torso, painting Steve's palms and knees in that warm, sticky, life-giving substance. It's burning Steve alive, as though Eddie were bleeding magma.
"Eddie-" His voice is cracked, rough. He drags himself closer, through the puddle of blood until he can get Eddie's head in his lap. "Eddie, I'm so sorry." He has tears spilling down his cheeks. They land on Eddie's face and make tracks through the grime and blood as they blend with Eddie's own tears.
"Steve," Eddie gasps again. He grabs Steve's hand. "I'm so cold."
"I know, I know. We'll get you warmed up. We'll get you home, I promise. I'm not leaving you, I swear it. It's gonna be okay." Steve untangles their fingers so he can press his hands to the rip across Eddie's abdomen. There's so much blood he can't even tell where the wound begins. Eddie coughs and crimson pours from his lips. "No, no, no. Don't do that, Eddie. Come on, stay with me. Please, please, don't."
"Don't wanna be cold," Eddie chokes through the blood bubbling in his mouth. His eyes slip closed.
"Hey!" Steve abandons holding the wound to cup Eddie's face. He shakes him once, twice. "Hey! Eddie! Wake up, please, wake up. You can't leave, don't leave. I just got you, don't leave."
The sky flashes crimson above them. The bats screech. Steve knows they will come for him next and tear him apart and he can't bring himself to care. He gathers Eddie against him, cradles him to his chest. He's so cold, he's so cold, he's so-
"-cold, Steve. How can you be this cold under all these blankets?"
Steve blinks awake. He's damp with sweat and he's shaking and someone his tucking what seems to be a third blanket around him. His mouth feels as though he were chewing on cotton. He tries to swallow. "Eddie?"
"Yeah, I'm right here. You awake?" Eddie comes into his field of vision.
"Yeah," Steve breaths shakily, sits up and let's the blankets fall around him. "I'm awake."
He's in his room, in his bed. Now that he's awake, he can recall Eddie leading him drowsily up the stairs to his bed. He'd fallen asleep during movie night, something that Eddie was teasing him about as Steve crawled under the covers.
"I heard you, uh, yelling…Just came to check that you were okay." It's then that Steve realizes Eddie is in his own pajamas which are…not much. He's wearing flannel pants, but his chest is bare. Steve scans him up and down. No blood. Eddie shifts a little from his seat on the edge of the bed, aware that Steve is practically ogling him. "Obviously you're okay now, so I can-" Eddie begins to stand.
"I was dreaming about you." Steve's not sure what makes him say it. Maybe because he's just so tired of pretending. He doesn't want Eddie to leave yet.
Eddie sit back down. "It didn't sound particularly nice, dude."
"It wasn't. We were back in the Upside Down and you were…I mean, you- fuck, man," Steve's voice goes thick with unshed tears and he feels his face flush. He realizes that he's shivering, little shakes that take over his limbs. He turns away, rubs his hand roughly over his eyes.
"Steve," Eddie's voice is a whisper. He hears the whisper of fabric and the creak of his bed as Eddie sits closer. A calloused hand takes his own. Steve stares down at their linked fingers. Eddie bends until he can catch his eyes. They're so dark in the moonlight shining through the window, they look black. "I'm here. That wasn't real. I'm real."
"You're real." Steve confirms the fact by placing his palm over Eddie's chest, right above his heart. He blinks, shaking his head, and goes to withdraw his hand, unsure what possessed him. Eddie grabs his wrist, presses Steve's palm against him. Steve can feel the way his heart is thundering under his hand- it matches the pace of his own pulse. Steve is fascinated. "Your heart is beating so fast."
"Cut a guy some slack. I'm in Steve Harrington's bed." Eddie smiles but it doesn't quite reach his eyes. He worries his bottom lip between his teeth more a moment. Steve track the minute gesture with an intensity that he find himself falling into more and more around Eddie.
"Why would that matter?" Steve asks.
"Steve." And Eddie gives him a look. It's not dissimilar to the way Robin looked at him that day in the Starcourt bathroom floor. Something that's so close to the surface, a realization just on the cusp of being said. But Steve isn't as clueless, as floundering as he felt that day. He can feel it- if he just has one more push.
"What?" Steve sounds breathless but he doesn't feel it. He shifts across the expanse of navy, onto his knees to sit right in front of Eddie. They're practically sharing air. God, he's beautiful.
Eddie's gaze flickers down to his mouth. Steve watches him swallow hard. He has the urge to track the motion with his own mouth, down, down, down the line of Eddie's throat. "I think I should let you know. I'm not the best with impulse control."
Steve's mouth twitches as he smothers a smile. He's on the precipice. (Something Robin once said to him as he bemoaned Eddie Munson's existence. You're on the precipice, Steve. Trust me.)
"I'll consider it your best quality if you kiss me right now."
Eddie's eyes widen a fraction, his eyebrows raise. His lips part and a punch of breath comes out of him, Steve can feel the little push of air from where they're close enough to practically breathe each other in. He's a little above Eddie from this angle on his knees.
Before Steve can settle down and apologize. Kiss Eddie himself. Run out the door and take all his bravery with him. Eddie Munson surges upwards and kisses him.
Steve is not particularly religious, but kissing Eddie is the closest to God he's ever felt.
Eddie is so warm, it feels like a brand against his mouth. Eddie shifts and suddenly he's on his knees as well, cradling Steve's face between his palms as he holds him close. Steve instinctively gasps, and Eddie takes the opportunity to lick into his mouth and, Jesus Christ, Steve is reckoning with the fact that he's never been kissed like this before. Eddie withdraws only a breath away. Steve, even as dazed as he feels, tries to follow Eddie as he retreats.
Steve finds his voice first in between their gasps for air. "Hell of a kiss, Eds."
"Didn't know if I'd get another. Wanted to make it count."
"Oh, you'll get another." Steve's hands fingers spread, flexing across the bare expanse of Eddie's chest. He slides one hand up to play with the hair at the nape of Eddie's neck. Goosebumps arise everywhere his fingers trail across Eddie. He wants to follow them with his mouth.
"Baby," Eddie whispers. It's devastating, churns up something in the pit of his stomach. Eddie Munson better call him baby in that tone for the rest of his life. Or not. They'll never get anything done. "You're shivering."
"Oh," Steve says because there's nothing else to say. He hadn't even noticed he was still shivering. The tremors, the chattering. "S'cold."
He takes Steve's other hand, the one still resting against his chest. Eddie's hot breath is on the inside of his wrist as he presses a kiss there. The heel of his palm is similarly branded. The tips of his fingers. Eddie catches his eyes as he sucks two of them down to the fucking root and Steve whimpers to feel all that unbearable wet-hot-molten heaven. Eddie draws back slowly, a string of spit still links Steve and him. Blinks those long lashes at him. They are miles away from any precipice now. Good, Steve thinks.
"Let me warm you up?"
Steve's throat bobs as he swallows around the swell of emotions making home there and a frankly embarrassing noise that escapes. High pitched and breathy, like he can't get a grip on himself because he can't. Not with Eddie staring at him like that.
"Yeah," Steve breathes. He's still nodding furiously, even as he dives in to kiss him again. Wants Eddie to swallow him whole, keep him warm from the inside out. "Wanna be warm. Want you to warm me up."
Eddie smiles, a real, genuine smile. All teeth and torment and salvation mixed up in one. "Okay, honey, okay-" And then Eddie's mouth is on his again and Steve likes the sound of honey maybe even more than baby.
Everywhere Eddie touches, molten sunlight feels like it pours into and back out of Steve. Eddie's hands wrap around his waist, dragging his shirt up and off, and a wildfire sparks in his belly. Eddie's knee nudges his thighs apart and he is golden. Eddie's fingernails scrape across his scalp when he pulls his hair back, tipping Steve's head so he can get lips and teeth along the column of his throat and the noises that escape his mouth are sparks and embers. He is warmer than he's been in so long and it's all Eddie.
Steve gives as good as he gets. Nails dragging along Eddie's shoulders, his leg hooking around Eddie's waist to drag him closer. He doesn't resist any urges now. He wants to taste Eddie's skin and he does, he wants to bring Eddie's mouth back to his and he does, he wants to pull on that curtain of dark hair and he does.
Eddie's panting out, "Baby" and "Honey" and "Sweetheart" in between kisses. His voice sounds rough, bordering on pained.
"Call me that forever," Steve gasps at one point. Eddie looks up at him from where he's painting a bruise with his mouth on the jut of Steve's hipbone.
"Careful with that word," Eddie says. His eyes are dark.
Steve's head is swimming. "What word?"
"Forever, honey. Careful."
Their eyes are locked. Steve doesn't blink. He just slides his hand into Eddie's hair, lightly tugs at the roots in a way that sends his eyes rolling back. "Forever," Steve repeats. He enunciates the word, drags it out a little.
Eddie whimpers. His mouth goes back to tracing the lines of Steve's body. Steve feels his lips move against his skin as Eddie says, "Whatever you want, sweetheart. Forever."
Eddie's got their fingers linked together, pressed against the mattress. He's covering Steve practically like a blanket, the furnace of Eddie's body warming him just by proximity.
Steve's not cold anymore.
Eddie wakes up first on an absolutely glorious morning, if he can say so himself.
There's sunlight coming through the far window, a soft, navy sheet wrapped around his waist, and Steve Harrington curled against his chest.
Eddie traces the curve of Steve's cheek with the tips of his fingers. Steve's nose twitches in his sleep, but he doesn't stir otherwise. Eddie knows he's prone to dramatics, but he would put down good money that he's never been happier in his life.
Eddie hasn't really had many of these- the "morning afters". He's a little lost on what exactly he's supposed to do. Breakfast? Aren't they always cooking breakfast in movies? He can make a mean stack of pancakes and hopefully be back before the golden boy in the bed even stirs.
He's just started to execute his extraction plan- move Steve's arm, keep the blanket tucked around him so Steve doesn't feel the cold air, slide off the bed slowly- when Steve rouses in earnest. He tucks in close, cutting off Eddie's hard work, and breathing in deep the way he sometimes does when Eddie has to wake him from movie night.
"Hey, sunshine, go back to sleep," Eddie whispers. He brings the sheet up, sealing in all that sleepy warmth around Steve as he tucks it around him.
"Sunshine," Steve sighs. His eyes are barely open, but they're focused on him. It shouldn't disarm Eddie the way that it does. They had certainly looked at each other last night, but maybe it's how soft Steve looks now. All guards down, all shields removed- just Steve left. And he's looking at Eddie like he's the greatest thing in the world.
Eddie has never claimed to be a strong man. He is unmoored, and the pull of Steve's gaze brings him back down, stretching out to lay back beside the other man. "Aren't you still tired?" There are two freckles on Steve's cheek that Eddie traces a line to and from with his fingertips.
"My space heater was leaving me."
"Your space heater was going to make you pancakes."
"Pancakes," Steve smiles and stretches with a little noise of satisfaction. His stretch gives him the leverage to roll, pinning an unsuspecting Eddie beneath him. Steve lazily clamors to his knees, effectively sitting on Eddie's lap, the sheet twisted up and around their bodies. Eddie is once again reminded that he's not a strong man as he does nothing to resist the urge to run his hands up and down Steve's thighs that are bracketing him. "What about…shower first, then pancakes?" Steve's hands are planted against his chest and Eddie knows if he asked him to do anything with those eyes, Eddie would smile and make it happen happily.
What Eddie settles on instead is, "I can be persuaded."
Steve climbs off him- wait, no, come back- but tangles their fingers together so he can pull Eddie off the bed and towards the en-suite. Eddie knows that soon they're going to have to talk about it all. Talk about what forever means. Talk about telling the kids and everyone. Eddie needs to get Nancy a card. Or a gift. Flowers? Something. He'll figure it out.
But right now, Steve is pushing him under the steaming spray of water in the shower while worrying a spot under Eddie's jaw with his mouth that's making him see stars and he's so happy he could weep.
Beneath his hands, Steve is warm and he's smiling. He doesn't wilt. He takes as much as he gives. That's good enough for him.