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Steve was in the middle of a dead sleep when he heard a phone start to ring inside his skull.
Not literally of course, but it was loud enough that it might as well have been. He groaned, rolled over, and smacked blindly at the nightstand until his hand closed around the beige receiver. The cord pulled tight and stretched across his chest as he rolled over onto his back.
“H’lo?” he mumbled, voice wrecked with the remains of sleep.
“Steve. Steven. Steve-o. Good morning.”
Steve squinted at the red numbers on the alarm clock on his bedside table.
6:12 a.m.
“…Dustin,” he whispered faintly.
“Who else would it be?”
Steve dropped his head back into the pillow.
“Why are you calling my house at the actual buttcrack of dawn?”
“Well,” Dustin chimed, bright and irritatingly awake, “first of all, no good morning back? Rude. Second of all, I need a ride to school.”
Steve exhaled hard. “Didn’t we get dumped on last night?”
“Yes! Gold star. That’s actually why I need the ride.”
Steve dragged a hand down his face and stared blearily up at the ceiling. He could hear the distant sound of a snow plow barreling down the road.
“And why isn’t Eddie taking you?” Steve asked, already deciding in his head that he wasn't going to like the answer.
Dustin didn't respond right away which should have been an immediate red flag.
“Okay, so,” Dustin started with the air of someone who was explaining something simple to a child, “apparently, Eddie is dying.”
Steve frowned. “Dying.”
“Like, tragically. Horrifically. At least, that’s what it sounded like.”
Steve pushed himself up on one elbow, cradling the phone between his ear and shoulder.
“Dustin. What the hell are you talking about?”
“I’m serious! I called his place and when he answered, he sounded like he had the bubonic plague or something. He couldn’t stop coughing. I asked him if he was okay and he started talking about how he couldn’t give me a ride because he’s been ‘seeing God.’”
Steve snorted into the receiver despite himself. “He isn’t dying Henderson, he probably just has a cold. And I’ll bet he has a cold because he refuses to wear the hat and scarf I gave him for Christmas, which by the way were pretty pricey-,”
“Whatever, he said he can’t drive me,” Dustin insisted, cutting him off. “He told me to tell you he’s ‘sorry for being weak’ before he hung up on me.”
Steve stared at the blank wall across from his bed, already picturing the scene. Eddie, dramatic as hell, wrapped in blankets and surrounded by used Kleenex. One hand clasped theatrically over his forehead while he hacked up a lung in Dustin’s ear over the phone.
“…Did he mention whether or not his uncle was home?”
“Nope. Every time he tried to talk he started coughing all gross, so. Ride? I’d like to keep my attendance record pristine this semester-,”
Steve sighed again, swung his legs out of bed, and rubbed at his eyes. “You owe me.”
“Oh, absolutely,” Dustin answered cheerfully. “I’ll add it to the list. See you in twenty?”
He hung up before Steve could say anything else, leaving him with the dial tone buzzing in his ear. Steve set the receiver back in its cradle and stared hard at it for a long couple of seconds.
Then, quietly, he spoke to himself out loud, “Dying, sure. What an idiot…he’s gonna wish he was dead when I see him.”
Steve pulled himself upright with a groan. His feet hit the cold floor hard enough to make him hiss. He stood there for a moment, swaying slightly, his eyes half-closed, before he shuffled slowly toward the dresser.
“Dying,” he mumbled again while tugging a sweatshirt over his head. “Unbelievable.”
The other man flaking wasn’t really a surprise. Eddie wasn’t exactly reliable, or predictable, but typically he could be counted on when it came to Dustin.
Steve buttoned his jeans, thinking about how his and Eddie’s “friendship” mostly consisted of overlapping responsibilities. Dustin needs a ride? Eddie’s there. Eddie’s van won’t start? Steve’s there with jumper cables in the back of his new truck. Sometimes Steve wouldn’t see Eddie for several days in a row and sometimes they would wind up sitting on the roof of Eddie’s new trailer for hours, sharing Eddie’s cigarettes while talking about absolutely nothing important. Music. Movies.
Their futures. Which they both agreed were going nowhere fast.
Steve pulled on his jacket and paused, his hand briefly hovering over a knit hat that was hanging on the hook by the door. It was identical to the one he’d gifted to Eddie, the one he outright refused to wear.
“Stubborn bastard,” he murmured, grabbing it for himself.
The drive to Dustin’s was slow. The roads were coated in a thin layer of ice and snow, but Steve’s truck managed it fine. He mostly worried about all the cars behind him that he could see sliding in and out of view in his mirrors.
Dustin chattered in his ear the entire ride to school, complaining about the snow, the work load that was dumped on him after the holidays, and Eddie’s “terminal condition,” until Steve finally dropped him off and watched as he disappeared into the building.
He waited until Dustin was entirely out of sight before he pulled away.
Steve wanted nothing more than to go home immediately after his unexpected morning errand. Maybe he could even crawl back into bed and pretend that the day hadn’t started yet. He took the first left on Main Street with the intentions of doing just that-, when something nagged at him in the back of his mind.
What if Dustin had been telling the truth? What if Eddie really was that sick?
Steve shook his head, flipping his blinker on to go left again.
Eddie still lived with his uncle, a man Steve had come to know well over time. He was an extremely reliable person, and would be more than capable of minding his adult nephew.
But, the voice piped up again, Dustin couldn't say whether or not Wayne was home. What if Eddie was home sick and alone?
Steve sighed hard, smacking the blinker in his truck so that he was signaling right instead of left towards home. Someone had to check on Eddie, and it might as well be him. Robin didn't drive and Nancy was getting packed to head back to college for her spring semester. The only person who had nothing to do on a Monday morning was Steve.
Before he headed for the trailer court he stopped by the grocery store.
He explained away this side quest by telling himself he was being practical. Eddie’s sick, Wayne might be at work. Someone should at least check on him, and make sure he’s got food around that didn’t come from a gas station. It’s not like Steve had any plans besides getting in a nap.
That and doing menial chores around the house for his parents. He hated it-, they made him feel like he had to prove there was purpose to his existence every minute of the day. It wasn't like he wasn't trying to find work.
After he and Robin were booted out of the radio station, she started applying to schools instead of dead end jobs. Steve had sent out a handful of applications on his own, but he never heard anything back. Things were getting bleak.
He stood in the soup aisle longer than he should have at the store, staring blankly at the rows of cans.
“Chicken noodle,” he mumbled to himself, dropping it into the basket on his arm. Then, after some thought, he added a can of tomato. And some crackers. And then he made for the refrigerated section to grab orange juice. He hesitated, then grabbed a box of tissues too off an end cap.
This isn’t a big deal, he told himself as he loaded the bag into the truck. This was just…well, it was the least he could do. He saw Eddie as a good friend now after all, didn’t he?
Eddie’s trailer was quiet when Steve pulled up. Snow was piled high around the steps. Long, deadly looking icicles hung off the awning and along the window ledges. The place looked smaller than usual, like it was hunkered down against the cold. Steve grabbed the grocery bag, tightened his scarf more securely around his neck, and tried to avoid icy spots as he approached the lonely trailer.
He knocked once, but no one came to the door.
He knocked again, louder the second time. “Munson?”
There was a thud inside followed by some coughing. Deep, awful, chest-rattling coughing.
Steve winced. “Jesus, Eddie.”
The door finally creaked open to reveal Eddie Munson in all his tragic glory-, his hair was a mess. His eyes were both glassy and bloodshot, and he was all wrapped up in a thick plaid blanket. It was cocooned around him like a shroud.
He blinked blearily at Steve through the screen door.
“…Am I hallucinating,” Eddie croaked, “or is that Steve Harrington standing on my porch?”
He reached out and fumbled with the door lock, apparently too weak to open it so Steve took over and pulled it open for him.
He lifted the grocery bag slightly so Eddie could see it. “Hey. So I heard you were dying.”
Eddie snorted and immediately regretted it as it caused him to dissolve into another coughing fit.
Steve stepped forward without thinking, steadying him by the arm. “Okay, alright. Easy, drama queen.”
Eddie squinted up at him, voice wrecked but soft. “You brought me soup.”
Steve shrugged, suddenly very aware of how close they were. “Well, yeah. I figured a case of beer and a pack of smokes probably wasn’t the best idea,” he grumbled sarcastically. “Now are you going to let me in or not?”
Eddie shuffled backward to make room, still swaddled in the blanket like he might fall apart if he were to be left exposed to open air too long.
Steve nudged the door shut behind them with his shoe.
The Munsons’ new trailer was a definite upgrade. Dark wood paneling pressed in along the walls, soaking up the light and giving the whole place a low, amber glow. The floors shifted from scuffed beige linoleum to shaggy green carpeting that muffled footsteps. Steve wouldn’t call it fancy, not by a long shot, but it felt lived-in in a way his own house never had.
The kitchen, dining room, and living space were all in one chunk of the trailer while two bedrooms and a bathroom took up the other half. A similar model mobile home happened to be for sale down the road from the Munson’s, on a lot that was apparently a steal according to uncle Wayne.
Eddie had made more than one argument about how Steve wouldn’t like living in Forest Hills, but he never seemed very sincere when bringing it up. And apparently any time he was alone with Dustin he mentioned that it would, in fact, be kind of cool if Steve wound up being his neighbor despite saying the opposite.
It was alarming to Steve that some part of him cared whether or not Eddie would like having him close by. This happened to be the same line of thinking that had convinced him to buy Eddie soup and talked him into showing up on the guy’s porch uninvited.
Steve set his grocery bag down on the little kitchen island, looking over at the old lumpy couch. Eddie was stood beside it still wrapped in his blanket, looking like he might topple over if someone breathed too hard in his direction.
“Sit,” Steve commanded, pointing with his chin toward the couch as if he were suddenly in charge of this operation. “You look like you’re one coughing fit away from passing out.”
Eddie opened his mouth to protest, clearly out of pure habit, but then he started to cough again and he immediately abandoned the idea. He shuffled over and collapsed onto the couch with a miserable little huff while tugging the blanket tighter around his shoulders.
“So bossy,” he muttered weakly.
Steve chose to ignore that as he turned towards the kitchen. He shrugged out of his jacket, deciding to drape it over the back of one of their rickety chairs. This one happened to be the same chair Eddie’s uncle Wayne always sat in when he bullied Steve into staying for dinner.
He then started pulling things out from the paper shopping bag. He opened the carton of juice and poured some into a glass he found drying in the dish rack.
“Where’s Wayne?” Steve asked casually while popping the tab on the can of chicken noodle soup.
Eddie sniffled loudly. “Ice fishing.”
Steve paused, can in hand. “Ice…fishing?”
“Yeah,” Eddie nodded, but his nose was so stuffed up that it had come out more like ish fshing. “Him and his buddy Roy. They met like a hundred years ago back when Wayne was in the Navy. Roy talked him into driving out to some lake in the middle of Minnesota-,”
Steve glanced over his shoulder. Eddie was watching him, glassy-eyed but stubbornly alert.
“Sounds fun,” Steve said, turning back to the stove. The soup slid out in one pale, gelatinous mass before loosening under the heat.
The Navy?
He wouldn’t have guessed. Wayne was rough around the edges, sure, but gentle in a way that surprised you if you stuck around long enough. He was like Eddie in that way.
Steve’s dad had been a Marine. He wore it like a permanent rank stitched into his skin-, sharp, rigid, impossible to ignore. Everything in their house had run on rules and consequences.
Wayne wasn’t like that. There was something steady about him, but it wasn’t control. It was patience. Steve tried to picture him younger…standing at attention, barking orders. The image wouldn’t hold.
“You okay over there?” Eddie croaked.
“Yeah,” Steve said, maybe too quick. He cleared his throat. “Just can’t picture your uncle in a uniform.”
Eddie huffed a weak laugh that dissolved into a cough. “He only made it like five years before he met some woman and tried to run off with her. Didn’t stick.”
“I just mean…” Steve searched for the words, watching steam curl up from the pot. “He’s nice. You know?”
Eddie studied him for a long second, fever-bright eyes sharp despite everything else being dulled.
“Yeah,” he said softly. “He is.”
Steve nodded. That quiet steadiness made more sense now-, the way Wayne clocked every exit in a room without looking like he was looking. Not jumpy, just aware.
Steve turned the stove down to low. “How long’s he been gone?”
“Couple days,” Eddie answered weakly. “Told him I’d be fine. Which is technically true-, I’m alive.”
Steve snorted. “Debatable.”
He leaned back against the counter with his arms crossed while the soup slowly heated up on the stove. “So,” Steve started, clearing his throat. His eyes flicked to Eddie, who was crouched on the cushion like a goblin in his plaid blanket shroud, “how’d you get sick?”
Something shifted in Eddie’s expression. It was subtle, but Steve had been hanging out with him long enough that it was easy for him to tell when Eddie was about to lie his way out of a conversation.
“Well,” Eddie started, his tone making it even more obvious that he was about to make something up on the fly. “I think it was Gareth’s fault. He was over here last week, coughing up a lung. That school is a cesspool-,”
Steve hummed, unconvinced, but he decided not to push. Instead, he tilted his head and let his gaze drift pointedly to the pile of discarded clothes on the arm of the couch.
“Huh,” Steve observed mildly. “Do you ever wear that scarf and hat I gave you?”
Eddie’s ears turned pink.
“I…” He cleared his throat, coughed, then tried again. “Of course I wear them.”
Steve raised an eyebrow. “Do you.”
“All the time,” Eddie added quickly. “Just…uh. Not when you’re around.”
Steve looked back down at the soup in the pot, forcing himself to focus on stirring it.
“Right,” he mumbled, his lips twitching despite himself. “So did you leave the tags on them as like a fashion statement, or…?”
Eddie looked down at the articles of clothing in question and huffed out a weak laugh. “Oh man…listen-, I like them,” he insisted, sounding suddenly stubborn about it. “The hat’s…great. Definitely…warm. Which is a positive when it comes to hats.”
Steve’s jaw tightened against his will. He began to stir the soup a little harder than necessary, his heart doing something annoying and fluttery behind his ribs.
“You know if you don’t like them, you can give them back. Robin will wear them.”
He managed to say it casually enough, but when Steve finally looked over at Eddie he found him frowning at the coffee table. He didn’t respond even when Steve started rummaging around for a bowl from the cabinet. He carefully added the soup into the only dish that was clean-, an off white old cereal bowl with chipped gold lines running around the rim. Steam curled up into his face, which felt kind of pleasant considering the weather they were having.
Steve then managed to locate an old tray on top of the microwave. He set Eddie’s juice and crackers down on it first before carefully carrying his hot soup over from the counter beside the stove-top. The burn of Eddie not being fond of a few Christmas presents had faded by the time Steve brought over the meager offering, and he found himself trying not to laugh when he caught sight of the look on Eddie’s face.
He stared down at the simple bowl of soup as though Steve had presented him with a tray of gold bars.
“…You’re taking very good care of me, Harrington.”
They locked eyes for half a second. Steve honestly assumed Eddie was only setting him up for another joke like always, but when the punchline didn’t arrive, the tray in his hands suddenly became a burden to carry.
He set it down on the coffee table and shrugged, backing away from Eddie bundled up on the sofa.
“Don’t get used to it.”
Steve went back into the little kitchen to tidy up, watching Eddie in his peripherals as he discarded the spoon with shaking fingers. He brought the whole bowl up to his lips instead, slurping up a mouthful of the soup from the rim.
“Oh my god,” Eddie murmured after swallowing. “This is the most delicious thing I’ve ever eaten.”
Steve scoffed. “It’s just canned soup!”
“That’s my favorite kind.”
Steve rolled his eyes as he crossed the room to sink down into the armchair beside the couch. His exhaustion was able to catch up with him the very moment he decided to rest. Steve watched Eddie eat for a while as they listened to the wind rattle faintly against the thin walls of the trailer.
It was just canned soup. And Steve had been out and about anyway, and Dustin had told Steve about Eddie’s illness, it wasn’t that weird that he’d shown up without calling.
Probably.
Except that lately all Steve had done was find excuses to see Eddie. Dustin left a book in his car? Steve brought it to Eddie’s because he was more than likely to see the kid next. When his dad had bullied him into cleaning out their garage, Steve had found a bunch of old furniture when the Munson’s just so happened to be moving and needed a few things. Steve had it all cleaned up for them and ready to go in his truck in less than an hour.
The coffee table beneath Eddie’s lunch once had a home in the Harrington’s den. Steve had been happy to help out, but he was starting to run out of excuses to come over- as well as lies to tell himself about why he felt the urge to be there in the first place.
Eddie looked up over the rim of the bowl, his hair falling into his eyes. He was still wrapped up in the plaid blanket. The smile he offered Steve was huge-, bright like him coming over to warm up a can of soup was the best thing that happened all week.
Steve looked away first. He was used to doing things for other people, but not so used to the other person looking so darn happy about it.
“You have anything to drink besides beer?”
Eddie huffed a laugh into the bowl, sending some of the broth splattering over the rim.
“Yeah, there should be a few sodas in the back.”
Steve helped himself to a Coke and chugged half of it down in one go. The door of the fridge was covered in magnets from different truck stops and landmarks from across the US, along with a large assortment of Polaroid photos. Most of them were of Eddie from around age thirteen on-, him and his band, with Hellfire Club. Steve could have lined them up in order based on the growth of Eddie's long hair, starting from back when he'd buzzed it all off to the messy mane he was currently sporting.
Steve froze in surprise when his own face appeared in the background of one of the photos. He wasn't even looking at the camera. Whoever had taken it had captured him talking to someone out of sight of the shot. He could see Dustin...Wheeler. Both Sinclair siblings. The younger Byers. Maxine. Almost everyone but Eddie was accounted for.
It was a goofy picture of Dustin making a weird face, featuring what looked like a blushing Steve talking to an unseen Eddie.
Steve thought about snatching it off the fridge, but he couldn't make himself do it. The photo wasn't his, and if Eddie had decided to keep it, there had to be a reason...
It was probably just because Dustin looked like such a turd. Maybe he was holding onto it for blackmail or something.
Steve didn't have any other ideas-, at least not any he felt like exploring further.
He left the photo alone, bringing his Coke with him back into the living room. Eddie was still on the couch, dunking a saltine cracker into what remained of his chicken noodle soup.
"How is it?"
"Heavenly," Eddie said, spraying cracker crumbs all over his shirt. "Do you have to go?"
He was staring up at Steve, who was standing there so stiff and awkward there was no question as to why Eddie had asked him that. Steve shook his head and plopped back down into the armchair.
"Nah. We both know I have zilch to do...unless I want to get a head start on helping my dad set up the new computer in his office."
He sounded miserable, but Steve was used to bitching about his life around Eddie. He was the only person other than Robin who never made him feel like shit about anything, the only person who didn't berate him or call him lazy. After washing down the dry crackers with most of the orange juice, Eddie waved his hand out towards the empty, dark living room.
"You're always welcome to slum it here, Harrington."
Steve stifled a burp after downing the rest of the soda.
"Thanks, dude. Do you feel any better?"
Eddie turned towards him. He was still pale and peaked, but less so maybe. Either way he definitely looked exhausted. He set down the soup bowl and empty glass, pulling the plaid blanket more tightly back around his shoulders.
"I think I'm at the end of it...the cough is the worst part. Even talking sucks,"
Steve frowned, he could hear the strain on Eddie's voice.
"We don't have to talk, man. Wanna watch TV or something?"
Eddie settled back into the couch cushions, nodding. Steve couldn't see his face behind the wall of blanket surrounding his head.
"Yeah, I guess. I like talking to you though."
At least, that was what it sounded like Eddie said; Steve didn't ask him to repeat himself. He got up to turn on the Munson's ancient TV set. After pissing around with the antenna for a minute Steve managed to get a station playing old black and white cartoons. He took Eddie's excited grunt as a cue to stop there. Maybe it had been the caffeine in the Coke, but suddenly Steve didn't want to just sit. All the nerves in his legs felt restless, jumpy.
He went to tidy up Eddie's dishes and nearly sent them toppling to the rug when a hand shot out to grab his wrist.
"You don't have to clean up after me too,"
Steve shrugged him off. Eddie's fingers had been ice cold, but the skin on the inside of his wrist felt scorched from the contact.
"I don't mind. Watch the show, I'll be back."
Eddie's frown didn't fade, but he nodded and settled back into the sofa. Steve busied himself with washing up the dishes and the pot he had warmed up the soup in, but even after those chores were done he still felt worked up over what felt like nothing at all. He dug around in the Munson's kitchen cabinet until he found an old tin shaped like a rooster. Inside were several different sachets of tea.
Steve dumped them all out on the counter, looking them over until he found one that claimed to have ginger in the blend. He then decided to microwave Eddie a mug filled with water, as he didn't see a kettle around. He plopped the tea bag into the bubbling hot water and swirled it around and around until it turned a delicate shade of gold. He brought it out to Eddie, who was still slumped over a pillow in the same position Steve left him in earlier.
"Here, drink this," Steve set the mug down in front of Eddie on the coffee table. "It should help your throat."
Eddie eyeballed it with a furrowed brow.
"What is it?"
Steve looked at him oddly. "Tea."
"We have tea? Where in the hell did you find that?"
"In the rooster," Steve replied simply. He sat down next Eddie on the couch, unsure why he randomly decided to abandon the perfectly good armchair. "Hope it helps."
Eddie gave it a sniff, tried to take a sip, and then blew into the mug when it burned his lip.
"Where did you heat this up? Mordor?"
Steve's nose wrinkled as he looked over at Eddie blowing furiously into his mug. The cartoon had ended, subjecting them to a few commercials before the latest episode of The Price Is Right began.
"Microwave."
Eddie snorted and attempted to drink from the mug again, finding success the second time around. The glow from the spinning wheel on the TV screen in front of them made the dark living room feel a little too bright. Steve’s eyes started to close on their own as he settled back comfortably into the sofa.
"I was kidding."
"You could just say thank you. Asshole."
Eddie set the tea down and laid back against the couch. Their shoulders brushed together, but neither of them moved.
"Thanks. I wasn't trying to be an asshole."
Steve's lip twitched. "You never have to try."
"Ha ha," Eddie yawned, following it up with another raspy cough.
They lapsed into a silence that was more comfortable and familiar than it was awkward. Steve had spent more afternoons than he could count rotting away beside Eddie on a couch. The only strange absence was that there were no teenagers punctuating the moment with conversation and laughter.
Steve figured Eddie's throat must have been really bothering him. The next time he picked up the mug of tea, he didn't set it back down until it was empty. He then pulled his legs up onto the couch and went to lay down, jolting Steve into moving position.
"Don't get up dude, if you're comfy-,"
Steve panicked as Eddie slammed a pillow up against his thigh. He settled back down like they cuddled everyday, leaving him really no time at all to decide if he wanted to get up or not.
"...sure, yeah. That's cool."
Eddie didn't say anything else. By the time the bidding on the showcases started, Steve could see that he'd closed his eyes. He looked more relaxed in that moment than Steve had ever seen.
It was fine. It was cool. Steve tried to focus on the TV, but all the cheering and noise just gave him a headache. Another game show started up right after Bob Barker told him to spay and neuter his pets-, but by then Steve had lost all interest in television.
His attention drifted down towards the grown man who was practically asleep in his lap.
Steve kept waiting for their position on the couch to feel awkward, but that moment never came. Eddie’s nasally breathing soon devolved into snores. The dim light from the old TV set wasn’t really enough to fill the living room, and the sleepy blue dark convinced Steve to close his eyes too.
He laid his head back on the couch, which was surprisingly comfortable. His left arm was fine where it was at his side, but his right shoulder tended to ache when he lifted it too high. His eyes popped open as he went to carefully loop his arm behind Eddie’s back. The soft rhythm of the others breathing lulled Steve into closing his eyes again.
He propped his feet up on his old coffee table, not realizing he sent his empty soda can to the floor in the process.
Eddie startled briefly just as Steve dropped off into unconsciousness. His body turned slightly left, towards the arm draped across his back. His face smashed into the crook of Steve’s elbow and didn’t move again.
“It’s fine,” Steve’s sleepy thoughts whispered inside his head. “He doesn’t feel good, he probably didn’t even notice…”
The last thing Steve could remember was absentmindedly stroking Eddie’s long hair back with his fingers, as if the other man were a cat who had curled up beside him to take a nap.
“…Steve?”
The living room was extremely dark without the light from the TV. When Steve squinted, he could just barely make out Eddie’s outline sitting next to him.
“What time issit?”
Steve’s voice was husky with sleep, his eyes felt heavy and hard to use as he struggled to see his watch in the darkness.
Eddie was fumbling with the closed blinds on the window behind them.
“No clue, I can’t find my watch- oh holy hell-,”
Steve’s head jerked around at the change in Eddie’s tone. He sat up too and peered out the frost covered window.
Hawkins looked a lot different on the other side of their nap. The trailer court was buried beneath at least a foot of snow-, snow that was still continuing to fall.
“I didn’t know we were supposed to get more snow, did you?” Steve asked. His mouth was dry, the Coke had left an odd taste behind on his tongue.
Eddie shook his head. “Nope.”
Steve jumped off the couch and stumbled over to the front door. When he managed to unlock and open it, a small pile of snow scattered across the floor in front of him. Even more fine white powder blew into the trailer the longer the door was held open.
His truck was buried under several layers of the stuff. Everything in his line of sight was covered- the other trailers around them, the road, the tops of trees. Steve couldn’t even tell where the exit out of the trailer court was anymore.
“Shit…”
Steve nearly jumped out of his skin when Eddie’s long hair brushed against his cheek.
“It’s after three by the way,” he informed Steve, yawning. “you make a good pillow, Harrington.”
Steve snorted. He was still preoccupied with the all the snow. How had they napped for so long?
“I was supposed to help my dad today, remember? Now I’m not sure I’ll be able to get home on time.”
“You can’t drive in this, Steve-,”
Eddie sounded more serious than Steve had ever heard before. The switch up made him look away from the nightmare outside the door and at the man standing beside him instead.
“I know…I wasn’t going to. I’ll wait for a plow truck to swing through.”
Eddie’s relief was immediate. Tension that Steve only had brief access to melted away and it was then that he realized how much better Eddie looked. There was color in his pale cheeks and his eyes looked less glassy and distant.
“You feeling better?”
He nodded, brightening up even more. “I am…which means I must admit you make an amazing nurse and pillow, dude.”
Steve knocked his elbow into Eddie’s shoulder, but not as hard as he would’ve normally.
“Shut up. I’m just saying you look good-,”
Eddie smirked and dropped his hip into Steve’s side.
“How good?”
Steve rolled his eyes and pulled the front door shut, deciding to blame his flushed cheeks on the cold instead of on Eddie’s behavior. He was always saying stuff like that to Steve. Robin called it flirting, but Steve didn’t see it that way-, why would Eddie want to flirt with him? His argument against Robin had opened a whole can of worms, leading to an hour long debate on whether Eddie even liked women or not. It ended with Steve deciding that they shouldn’t be picking apart the other man’s sexuality and with Robin deciding that meant she won the argument.
Steve never brought it up again because…well, sometimes it did feel like what they did was flirting. If a woman looked at Steve the way Eddie did sometimes, he would've had no problem calling a spade a spade.
“At least you’re not dead. Henderson will be thrilled.”
Eddie smirked at him gleefully, clearly unbothered once again by the casual nature of this flirting. It seemed to come so natural to him.
“I may have laid it on a little thick this morning to get out of driving in the snow. But I really did feel like shit there for a while-,” he turned around and glanced behind them at the now quiet TV and the Nintendo on the floor in front of it. “You want to play a game or something?”
Steve’s nose wrinkled at the suggestion, “or something.”
It was Eddie’s turn to roll his eyes as he plopped down onto the floor in front of the couch.
“C'mon. What else are we going to do while we’re stuck here? I can’t watch any more day time television, it makes me feel like a zombie.”
Steve watched as Eddie slapped a game cartridge into the system on the floor, hovering over it on the rug as he fiddled around with the plug on the back of the box.
“This is Dustin’s spare he bought at the thrift. It’s got some issues but I’ve been screwing around with it and I think I may have…ah ha!” The TV screen lit up with pixelated lights and colors, flashing the game title, Contra, across the screen in vivid white font.
Steve lowered back down onto the couch, reluctantly accepting the controller Eddie shoved into his hands.
“You do realize I suck at these things, right?”
Eddie sat up. His shoulder naturally came to rest against Steve’s knee and he didn’t bother scooting over.
“Did Dustin tell you that?”
Steve didn’t want to admit that it was actually all the little rats who had made that same comment at one time or another. He halfheartedly tapped the buttons and felt them stick suspiciously under his fingers.
“The music gives me headaches sometimes too.”
Eddie’s head tilted back against Steve’s knee. He stared up at him as if he were studying Steve.
“I’ll turn it down real low. Who cares if we lose, Harrington? I’m not saying we have to go out and sign up for a competition. It’s supposed to be fun.”
Eddie’s cheek squished against his knee. Warm breath sunk into the denim stretched across it and Steve had to bury away an intrusive thought, one featuring him threading his fingers back through Eddie’s hair, playing with it like he had done before they’d fallen asleep.
“Okay fine,” he grumbled, sighing in defeat.
Eddie perked up again and he shuffled forward to lower the TV volume to near silence.
“Don’t look so excited, I didn’t even explain the game yet.”
The plot was simple enough for Steve to follow. Eddie, as player one, would be the main character Bill and Steve would be playing as Lance Bean-, the back up. They mostly looked like vaguely male pixelated blobs on Eddie’s old TV, but at least Steve could see somewhat of a difference.
It was just a basic side scrolling beat em' up kind of game, in which Eddie described their enemy as “those alien bastards,” set in a jungle somewhere in the world. It wasn’t hard necessarily, but as usual Steve’s lack of delicate hand eye coordination sparked a decades old frustration that came out as random bursts of anger.
“Fuck fuck fuck-,” he chanted just as a bridge behind them began to explode.
“Faster, Harrington! Aw damn it-,”
At the last second, poor Lance Bean toppled into the too blue water below.
Steve collapsed back against the sofa in a huff.
“Told you. I suck.”
Eddie rolled his eyes and shoved into Steve’s knees with his bony shoulder. A warmth bloomed in the bowels of Steve’s belly when Eddie’s face came to rest on his thigh, dark eyes framed by purple circles peered up at him beneath tangled curls.
“Shut up. You don’t suck, you never even played it before today. Let’s just keep going?”
He was genuinely asking, leaving it up to Steve this time whether or not they continued. His eyes looked so hopeful it would have been impossible for Steve to say no, even though he did strongly consider it.
With another heavy sigh, Steve shook his head.
“Alright. Let’s play.”
“Atta' boy!”
It was shameful enough that Steve even let Eddie reach up and ruffle his hair; what was worse was that he enjoyed it. Compliments and encouragement from Eddie always felt genuine. It was probably why Steve did anything he could to catch any stray crumb of praise he could from him.
Neither one of them slipped up again for almost an hour. The levels became increasingly difficult with more exotic looking enemies, revealing that this Red Falcon was actually run by aliens and not the weaker human enemies they’d first encountered. After every base they conquered Eddie would turn around to aggressively high five Steve, an event he began to look forward to with increasingly worrying joy.
They were close to the final boss, or so Eddie claimed, when he lost his first and only life. His reaction was far more dramatic than Steve’s had been.
“Son of a bitch!”
Eddie smacked his controller against the inside of his bent thigh, cursing again when the movement yanked the console forward away from the TV. It unplugged itself from the wall and the old screen faded to black right before their eyes.
“Did you just-?”
Eddie slowly turned to look up at him.
“Uh…yeah. My bad, St- ow!”
Steve had landed a rough punch onto Eddie’s bicep.
“You jerk you said we almost had it! I’m not doing all that again.”
Eddie snapped back, “Well no one said you had to play it again, Harrington, it was an accident-,”
“You lost one life and tanked the entire game!”
He surprised Steve by punching him back on the side of his leg.
“A game I had to like beg you to play…ooo Dustin said I suck-, hey!”
Steve knocked Eddie easily onto his back, pinning him to the ground by yanking his wrists up over his head. He was mindful about not sitting directly on top of Eddie, mostly because he was just getting over an illness, but also because the warmth in his belly from earlier hadn’t gone away. It was a constant reminder of feelings he outright refused to acknowledge.
Steve’s grip was firm but careful, his thumbs pressed into the inside of Eddie’s wrists as if he were trying to prove he was stronger for some inane, archaic reason. Eddie’s eyes went wide for half a second in surprise before that familiar spark flared there instead.
“Oh fuck you, man.”
“Ohhh,” Eddie said with a laugh, breathless but grinning, “so that’s how it’s gonna be?”
“Shut up,” Steve snapped, but it was already ruined by the way his mouth twitched. “I think you unplugged it on purpose.”
“I absolutely did not-,”
Eddie bucked his hips, hard enough that Steve lost his balance just a little. It was enough. Eddie went to twist his entire body, making Steve let one wrist go free. He then used Steve’s momentary surprise to hook a leg around his calf and yank.
Steve went down with an undignified oof, the air punched out of his lungs as his back hit the rug.
“Ha!” Eddie crowed, coughing immediately afterward. “Ow-, worth it.”
Before Steve could recover, Eddie scrambled on top of him, his knees bracketing Steve’s hips as he pinned his shoulders down with surprising strength. His hair fell forward in a curtain, tickling Steve’s jaw and neck.
Steve blinked up at him, his chest rising and falling fast.
“Oh my god,” he panted. “You’re such an asshole.”
“And you,” Eddie replied while leaning down just enough so that Steve could feel the warmth of his breath, “are slower than you look.”
Steve twitched beneath him, his hands sliding from Eddie’s forearms to his waist, and eventually beneath Eddie’s thin t-shirt, finding a home on his hips. He was oddly surprised when suddenly his palms were full of Eddie. Slightly feverish skin warmed his fingers while his thumbs brushed against a worn elastic waistband.
Eddie’s hands were flat against Steve’s chest, fingers splayed over the thin cotton of his shirt. He wondered if Eddie could feel his heart racing. If he knew why or if he thought it was just because they had been horsing around. Their faces were inches apart, their noses nearly brushing together, their breaths mingling in the narrow space between them.
For a moment, neither of them moved.
Eddie swallowed hard. Steve’s eyes drifted to the movement in his throat rather than the warm gaze he could feel burning into his face.
“…Hey.”
He was forced into looking back up all of a sudden and it took him a second to realize this was due to Eddie’s hand on his chin, tilting his head back. The new carpet beneath him dug uncomfortably into his skull.
“Hey. You uh…you feel okay?”
Eddie’s head tilted slightly to the left, reminding Steve of his next door neighbors beagle puppy.
“Yeah, why…oh,”
Steve nodded earnestly. “Probably shouldn’t be screwing around. That cough was no joke.”
He watched as Eddie sucked his own bottom lip between his teeth, his brow furrowing.
“Is that what you’re doing? Screwing around?”
The shadows from the approaching sunset hid Eddie’s eyes from Steve. All he could see was the emergence of a bitten lower lip. Shiny. Damp. Red. The burning in his stomach suddenly crawled its way up the back of Steve’s throat. He removed one of his hands from beneath Eddie’s shirt and instead he brought it slowly up to the nape of the other man’s neck.
“…no? I honestly don’t know what the hell I'm doing.”
The pair of lips Steve had been honed in on split into a grin.
“On a scale of one to Robin Buckley how sketched out do you get about germs?”
It felt out of place, but it made Steve laugh. Robin had no problem making messes-, especially when eating, but anytime Steve had the sniffles she would stay a good six feet back when he spoke and excused herself to wash her hands every five minutes.
“Like a…4? I don’t know, what kind of question is th-,”
Steve didn’t get the chance to finish his rebuttal question, as Eddie decided to shut him up by kissing him right on the mouth.
His lips were warm and unexpectedly soft. The hand Steve had left on the base of Eddie’s neck scratched helplessly at the skin there, a hangnail snagged on a rogue baby curl. There was a hesitation in Eddie that made Steve wonder if he might be holding back out of fear, as if he expected to be pushed away or even hurt by Steve.
He had no clue how to tell Eddie that he had been forcing himself not to picture this for months.
Instead, he let his hands sliding up Eddie’s sides be his answer, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt as he kissed him back. The world narrowed to the simple warmth of Eddie’s mouth, and the faint hitch in his breath when Steve pressed up just a little to meet him better.
Eddie made a quiet sound, something between a sigh and a hum, and deepened the kiss by a mere fraction.
And then the TV screen suddenly filled the room with a deep blue glow.
Both of them jerked back violently, Eddie nearly headbutting Steve as the old speakers crackled, blasting the Contra title music at full volume. Pixelated white letters flashed across the screen, bright and obnoxious in the dim room.
They simply stared at each other, frozen in the moment.
“What the-?” Steve blurted.
Eddie scrambled backward, tumbling off of Steve. He landed on his ass with a thud. “I didn’t…I swear I didn’t touch it!”
The music kept blaring.
Steve groaned and threw an arm over his eyes. “Jesus Christ.”
Eddie lunged for the volume knob, coughing as he fumbled with it until the sound cut out completely. He left the TV set and the game on as a source of light in the dark living room.
With a sigh he flopped back onto the carpet beside Steve. He looked a little out of breath and when Steve recalled why that would be, a creeping heat swallowed the back of his neck.
Eddie turned to look at Steve on the floor, startling him when he began to laugh like a madman.
“What’s so damn funny, Munson?”
It took him a second to calm down, his back rolling up against the sofa behind him.
“Nothing, man. I just…I never thought that would happen. Especially not when I haven’t showered in three days and I look like I’ve been hit by a train-,”
Steve let out an anxious chuckle while sitting up on his elbows.
“You don’t look that bad.”
Eddie slowly turned to look at him, his eyes darker than normal as they scanned up the length of Steve’s body reclined on the floor.
“You sure about that?”
In seconds Eddie was draped back over Steve like a blanket. A slender leg slotted between his thighs, knocking them apart while tangled hair enveloped the both of them like a curtain.
Eddie’s breath was warm on Steve’s neck, scented by the ginger tea he’d bullied him into drinking earlier.
“I think I might still have a fever, Harrington…”
He sounded dead serious, but even Steve could tell by the way the edges of his eyes crinkled that Eddie was fucking with him. Not that realizing this stopped Steve from playing along- not by a long shot.
Steve slowly raised his hand and flattened it against Eddie’s forehead. It was warm, but the tell tale heat of a fever was very much absent.
“You do feel a little warm still.”
Eddie nodded, his eyes tracked Steve’s hand as it vacated his forehead and slid down the side of his face.
“I’m feeling kinda dizzy, too.”
Steve swallowed hard. Eddie’s eyes were so close that their comforting brown color was hard to focus on. Somewhere outside their bubble a truck backfired and an older man’s voice started a tirade of curse words as its rattle faded away. Eddie didn’t seem to notice or care. All of his energy appeared to be devoted to holding himself up over Steve, gently pressing the meat of his thigh between the others legs.
“Oh, yeah?”
It sounded lame, at least to Steve’s ears, but Eddie just nodded again. His head dropped slightly and when he opened his mouth to speak, his lips brushed over Steve’s.
“It’s making it hard to think…it’s making me want to kiss you again-,”
Eddie’s slightly chapped lips ghosted over the shape of Steve’s mouth. It was strange being teased in that way-, with Eddie both touching him and not touching him at the same time. It was enough to flip a switch and drive him insane and what was worse was that Eddie seemed to just know what he was doing to Steve.
He looked up and smirked as Steve’s cock twitched against the thigh he had rammed between his legs.
“We probably shouldn’t,” when Steve somehow managed to find his voice, his words threw Eddie off his game. He stared down at him in surprise. “With you being so sick and all. You might get me sick.”
Eddie seemed to consider it when the smirk reappeared.
“Let me give it to you. Hm, Steve?”
Steve’s heart beat crashed in his ears like waves slapping along a shore. Before he could even think about what he was doing he leaned up fully on his elbows to meet Eddie’s mouth with his own.
A surprised sound came from Eddie that Steve decided to count as a victory. The feeling didn’t last too long- instead it morphed into a low buzz in the back of his brain, like the static on Eddie’s old TV. The heat that had been churning in his stomach all day began to flood his entire body, fueled by Eddie kissing him while simultaneously pinning him to the floor.
Steve couldn’t tell if that bit was intentional. At least, not at first. But whenever he finally decided to try and raise his arms, Eddie simply put more of his weight forward, keeping Steve still beneath him. His tongue flicked across the shape of Steve’s bottom lip, forcing him to open his mouth while careful thumbs traced circles along the biceps they were restraining.
Eddie tasted like the ginger tea too. There was more to it- menthol, from either the throat lozenges he’d seen on the coffee table or Eddie’s smokes, Steve couldn’t tell. It was all background noise to the way Eddie was kissing him, with urgency, like he needed to drink Steve in completely or he wouldn’t be able to breathe.
The leg that had been keeping Steve’s thighs parted moved, bending slowly forward and backward. It was so slight that Steve wondered wildly if it was even intentional, but for being such a subtle movement the friction only made his need more clear, more evident. His cock began to strain against the fly of his jeans, causing him to moan right into Eddie’s mouth when he suddenly flattened it beneath his bony knee.
Wet lips carrying a string of Steve’s spit pulled away and curved into a satisfied grin.
“You’re so easy, Harrington. I didn’t even need to use my hands.”
A red flush colored Steve’s cheeks.
“Shut up-, it’s been awhile alright?”
Eddie snickered, leaning in again to sink his teeth into Steve’s bottom lip.
“I didn’t say it was a bad thing."
His hands fell to Steve’s belt, tugging it free from his pants.
"Kinda flattering, if you ask me."
Long fingers popped open the button on Steve's jeans. Eddie leaned down closer to his face again, brown eyes glittering in the near dark. He rolled his hips ever so slightly so that Steve could feel the hint of his own hard on hiding beneath his ratty old pajamas.
"Plus I really fucking like you-,"
In one desperate, fairly uncoordinated movement Eddie rocked his hips down against Steve's thigh while also bringing their mouths together once again. He bit Steve's bottom lip hard enough to make it hurt all while his hand traveled from the waist band of Steve's jeans into his briefs. Having Eddie finally touch him unraveled any shred of decorum Steve had still been pretending to cling to.
He moaned directly into Eddie’s mouth. Something in him broke feeling Eddie’s body respond to the noise, his mind reeling from pressure of a cock that wasn’t his grinding against the inside of his thigh. He spread his legs more, encouraging Eddie in as he tried not to fuck himself stupid in the warm hand wrapped tight around his dick.
They had to look like a disaster like that on the living room floor, writhing together across the carpet. The shaggy fibers were scratching painfully against the skin on Steve’s lower back, but he barely felt it. Maybe he’d notice the rug burn later and get off to the memory of Eddie’s tongue down his throat.
Steve learned quickly that he didn’t have to hold back with Eddie. He could pull the long hair he had wrapped in his fist as hard has he wanted. Eddie didn’t care when Steve abandoned their kiss to drag his teeth across the skin of his throat. If anything he encouraged it, whispered to Steve in a shallow voice about how good he felt, how pretty he looked letting Eddie use him to get off.
Of course, Eddie gave back what Steve dished out. Soon there was a collection of damp, red and purple bite marks all along the column of Steve’s throat. Jagged fingernails had left imprints on his forearms, on the back of his neck beneath his hair. And after Steve moaned from letting Eddie yank him by the back of the head he only manhandled him more, guiding Steve into any position he so desired, leading them to Steve flat on his back with his leg bent upwards, giving Eddie access to rut freely against the seam of his thigh.
He wondered if Eddie would be this way if they had sex- if he’d still whisper heated words into his ear, praise him for being a good boy while pressing fevered kisses into every and any part of Steve he could reach.
Eventually the warmth of Eddie’s hand around him, occasionally giving his cock a few messy strokes, became too much. It was all too much. Steve feebly tugged on Eddie’s long hair, which had started to curl against his forehead with sweat.
“I’m gonna come- what do you want me to-,”
“I want you to come Stevie. Let me feel it, I’ll send you home clean don’t worry,”
He whispered his response in Steve’s left ear before pulling the soft lobe in between his teeth.
The obvious dampness bleeding through Eddie’s worn pajamas drove Steve over the edge. How had this been enough to make Eddie come in his pants? Then again Steve couldn’t remember the last time someone had jerked him off, and he was pretty certain no one had ever worked him up so much before in all his life.
Eddie didn’t stop kissing him even after. His mouth traveled between Steve’s face, neck, and shoulder as his breathing slowly regulated back to normal. In the aftermath he finally felt the rug burn on the small of his back and the cooling mess left behind in his briefs.
“Well you have to be feeling better now-,” he announced weakly, breaking the silence.
He’d made Eddie laugh up against his neck.
“Nurse Harrington was just what I needed to kick this cold in the ass.”
Steve frowned, his chest tightened when Eddie pulled him close instead of moving away.
“Why is it always nurse Steve? Am I not a believable doctor?”
Eddie snorted. He didn’t seem to care much if Steve could feel the wet spot on his crotch. For whatever reason that only made Steve want to reach down between them and return the favor.
“Sure you are lovely. But I’d cut any limb off of your choosing if you had shown up here dressed like a nice, slutty little nurse-,”
Steve scoffed and just about melted when Eddie pulled him close to kiss him. It was slow. Patient. In some ways that made him more dizzy than any thing else had.
When Eddie pulled back, grinning in a satisfied kind of way, Steve slid his hand down to the other man’s waist.
“Want to go again?”
It was fun to throw Eddie for a loop. It was hard to do, but when Steve managed it he had to admit it was satisfying.
“Already?”
“What, don’t think you can?”
Steve wedged his leg back between Eddie’s, his hand slid over the mess staining his pajama pants.
Eddie chuckled, his voice deep and slow.
“Oh, I can. I can do whatever you want, but I literally haven’t showered in like three days- honestly maybe four.”
Steve buried his head in the hollow space between Eddie’s neck and shoulder.
“Trailer has a shower, right?”
His voice was muffled, but he could feel the rest of Eddie’s body stiffen in response to what he’d said. He reached for the waistband of Eddie’s soft, worn pajama bottoms and pulled it down over his hips. The electricity sparkling beneath his skin hadn’t dulled, if anything it had only intensified- as if he sensed he were somehow making up for lost time.
“Steve,”
Eddie’s voice was thick and its depth only drove Steve into kissing him harder-, his teeth cut into the skin on Eddie’s neck.
“Hm, what? You don’t…you don’t want to…?”
For a brief moment Steve felt rejected, wondering why his offer suddenly wasn’t good enough or wanted. Did he think Steve would be inexperienced or something since he’d only been with women? Not that Eddie could have known that, which meant he was assuming-, but the second he pulled away from Eddie a hand latched painfully onto his shoulder.
“Are you insane? I just meant are you sure you want to, baby? You know you don’t owe me or whatever for any of that-,”
Steve honestly hadn’t heard a single word after Eddie had called him baby. His mouth had fallen open and he’d been experiencing a pleasant buzzing sound instead.
He’d been fingering the edge of Eddie’s waistband without meaning to. He gave it a brief tug before letting go entirely.
“I know that. But I want to-, I’ve wanted to for months-,”
Eddie’s eyes widened comically like an old cartoon character.
“Are you kidding? And you never said anything?”
Steve looked down, shrugging. He paused when he noticed that his jeans were pulled down to his knees.
“I…I guess I was worried you wouldn’t feel the same way.”
Eddie’s hands were already over his face as he let out a strained laugh.
“Worried…about me? As if I didn’t act like a complete moron in front of you on a regular basis-,”
Before Steve could comment Eddie was up on his feet, stumbling a little as he shimmied out of his pants.
“What are you-,”
“Calling your bluff,” Eddie replied cheerfully. “It’s not a big shower, but we can figure it out-,”
Steve followed suit, sitting up eagerly to remove his jeans the rest of the way along with his briefs, which were tacky on his skin by that point. Before he could blink Eddie reappeared in front of him wearing only his shorts. Warm fingers grazed the side of Steve’s jaw, reclining his head back so that he was looking straight up at Eddie staring down at him.
“What is it?”
Steve was surprised to hear that he was whispering. But something in his tone made Eddie grin and his thumb swiped across Steve’s bottom lip.
“Nothing. Just can’t believe I’m not dreaming. Are we positive I’m not dead?”
Steve chuckled and went to pull Eddie’s shorts down just as the phone began to ring. He froze, brows raised in question as he glanced back up at Eddie.
“You gonna get that?”
Steve wasn’t sure what made him do it, but as Eddie’s thumb circled back beneath his mouth he let his tongue out to chase it, barely grazing Eddie’s knuckle.
“James Alan Hetfield could be calling me right now Harrington and I wouldn’t answer it.”
Steve stared up at Eddie in confusion while he slowly pulled the other man’s boxers to the floor.
“I have no clue who that is.”
Eddie was already hard. He couldn’t seem to look anywhere other than Steve as he stood up to finish undressing himself. As the answering machine picked up the call, Eddie’s hands slid beneath Steve’s shirt and he eased it up over Steve’s head himself.
“…Eds, it’s Wayne. Are you there?”
At the sound of his uncle's voice, Eddie paused. It was short lived as Steve leaned in to kiss him.
“I hope you’re resting and not off making whatever bug you caught even worse. But listen, I wanted to let you know I’ll be coming home early. A snow squall-,”
But Wayne’s words fell on two sets of very deaf and indifferent ears. Eddie had started guiding them backwards towards the bathroom door. Together they stumbled over the Nintendo controllers, Eddie’s fallen empty mug- all the while their kissing turned into something more. A deep, grounding connection that Steve felt take root almost immediately.
The little distance between them was suddenly too much. When Eddie practically slammed Steve back into the bathroom door, his hands shot out on instinct and he yanked Eddie up against him in response.
He turned away from Steve to let out a small cough.
“Damn it. Sorry,”
Steve just shook his head. “I’ve already accepted the fact that I’m doomed to get whatever disease this is-,”
Eddie grinned back at him wolfishly. “Worth it?”
“Well, we’ll see.”
Their mouths crashed together once more as Steve reached down to turn the doorknob. They fell backwards into the bathroom just as Wayne wrapped up his message on the answering machine.
“…and anyway I’ve talked your ear off enough. Ima get out of this truck stop and I’ll see you in about an hour or so with some of this soup. Bye for now.”
The answering machine beeped loudly as Wayne ended the call, but neither of them heard it over the sound of the shower kicking on.