Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The problem is, he and Eddie don’t really talk about it.

It’s not like they’re on bad terms, far from it, it’s just that whenever they are alone their mouths are usually otherwise engaged. It doesn’t feel like much of a problem in those moments, sort of pales into muted insignificance the moment Eddie hooks his fingers through Steve’s belt loops and tugs him closer by the waist with that devilish grin playing across his lips. Steve will be the first to admit he isn’t one of God’s strongest soldiers. The speed at which his resolve to sit down and have a serious talk crumbles every time Eddie so much as glances his way is embarrassing even to himself.

He thinks they should probably talk about it, at some point. Then again, Steve probably should have actually worked through some, or any, of the conflicted feelings roiling around in his gut associated with his attraction to men before acting on them.

He didn’t.

It took him approximately 10 seconds between realising that he was into Eddie, and shoving his tongue down the guys throat. That must be a world record, right? 10 whole seconds from gay awakening to shoving a guy up against the back wall of his house and kissing him like his life depended on it. Eddie gave as good as he got, and it was thrilling and terrifying and Steve still gets shivers thinking about it.

And then there’s whatever they’re doing now. Which is great, and wonderful and Steve has never had so much sex in his life, good sex, that is, but they don’t actually talk. They haven’t actually discussed what is going on between them, and Steve thinks it might be his fault just a little bit, because they’ve had the opportunity to talk on several occasions, but once he’s alone in a room with Eddie it’s like his brain short circuits. He sees the hair and the ripped jeans and the tattoos and the big doe eyes with those ridiculously long eyelashes and he goes absolutely insane.

Eddie waltzes into Family Video and Steve has to stop himself from vaulting over the front desk and ravaging the man right there in the doorway. He feels like an addict, and Eddie just…lets him. No, more than that, Eddie teases him in public, playing with his hair, chewing on his lower lip just so, leaning over the counter of Family Video so Steve gets an eyeful of his chest, plectrum necklace dangling in front of his face and he has to clench the sides of his chair to stop himself from yanking on it and pulling Eddie down on top of him. That’s another thing they should talk about, really, because Steve isn’t actually sure if Eddie is doing it on purpose to make his life a living hell, or if that’s just how Eddie is. He’s not sure which is worse, but the possibility that Eddie is just living his life like normal and that’s still enough to reduce Steve to a quivering wreck is wreaking havoc on his self-confidence.

Eddie wears the marks of their congress like medals of honour, littering his chest and up his neck, he’s taken to wearing loose shirts, or low-cut Vs, ones that show his collar bones and make Steve feel dizzy. When people ask if Eddie has recently battled an octopus, pointing at the marks, he throws his head back and laughs riotously, Steve tries not to stare at the curve of his neck or think about how his skin feels against his teeth.

Eddie is more careful with his marks, which Steve should be thankful for, as it means he avoids awkward questions, but he isn’t thankful, actually, because he spends a lot of time fantasising about Eddie’s lips and teeth and his wicked tongue and his inner thighs might be littered with bruising kisses but he’d really like more. A mark on his neck, somewhere visible, might make the whole thing feel less like a fever dream.

He’s started showing up at Family Video precisely five minutes before Steve’s lunch breaks. Steve spends half of his break in the back of Eddie’s van, getting the best head of his life, and the other half regaining the power of speech enough to go back to work, whilst Eddie breezes into the store and makes idle chit-chat with Robin or casually wanders the aisles perusing the tapes on offer. The man is unperturbable, he finishes, plants a big, wet, indulgent kiss on Steve’s lips and then within a minute he’s fully dressed again, not a hair out of place. Maybe his lips are a little puffy from the kissing, but other than that he most definitely doesn’t look like he’s just had sex in the back of his vehicle, (because Steve is a gentleman and refuses to let it be a one-sided thing). It’s not even penetrative sex, Steve’s not that much of a fucking maniac even though the back of Family Video is relatively secluded and he’s definitely thought about it on more than one occasion.

If Robin knows, she hasn’t made a mention of it. Steve is endlessly grateful because he really doesn’t know what he’d say if she did ask. He told her about the revelation, but neglected to mention what happened 10 seconds after, and has continued to happen basically every day since then for almost two months. It’s not like they plan it that way, it’s just that Steve finds himself driving to the trailer park in the dead of night far more often than he’d like to admit. To the point where Eddie just leaves the door unlocked for him now. He’s been spending so much time in the Munson’s trailer that he has a favourite mug and knows where everything is kept in the kitchen. He knows how to avoid turning the security light on as he leaves in the early hours, knows Eddie’s room like the back of his damn hand, can navigate the piles of tapes and notebooks in the dark.

If Steve thought he was a little clingy with his previous partners, he’s upgraded to basically a koala with Eddie. The need to be touching the man at all possible moments is overwhelming. When they’re alone, Eddie is indulgent in his allowance for this limpet-like behaviour. He laughs to himself as Steve wriggles his way into his lap whilst they pretend to watch whatever movie they’re pretending to watch so Steve’s late-night visits don’t start to feel like full-on booty-calls. In public, Eddie dances just outside of Steve’s reach, like he’s testing him and they’re back to acting like ‘just friends’ because they haven’t actually talked about it enough to give it a label of any kind. Steve avoids hanging out in public with him without the buffer of Robin or the gang to stop him from doing something absolutely insane, like leaning down and licking Eddie’s exposed midriff that one time when he stretched in line for a movie and his shirt had ridden up just so. That being said, it’s not often that Eddie is willing to go out in public these days, anyway.

***

Steve reckons he has about 30 seconds of sanity left. He grips the steering wheel a little tighter and attempts to not see what is going on in the passenger seat. Eddie is eating one of those 20c bargain brand vanilla ice cream popsicles. The ice cream is melting down the stick, trickling over his ringed fingers and he has to pause every few seconds to lick the melted ice cream off his hand. Steve clenches his jaw, because it’s 8 in the damn morning and Eddie is apparently trying to give Steve cardiac arrest, or send the car careening into oncoming traffic. The problem is that Eddie isn’t even doing it seductively, he’s not trying to make Steve absolutely feral, he just eats like that. He’s messy, he gets sauce down his chin and crumbs on his shirt and talks with his mouth full and apparently can’t eat a damn popsicle fast enough to stop it melting all over his stupid sexy hands. Eddie swears under his breath as a drip lands on his t-shirt and Steve absolutely does not watch him pull the soiled cloth up to his mouth and lick, no, suck, the fabric clean.

“Would you cut it out?!” Steve chokes out, as Eddie once again licks melted ice cream off his knuckles, smacking his lips appreciatively. “Use a fucking cloth or something?” His voice is strained and pitched far too high and he sees Eddie glance at him with that wicked grin.

“Christ, hair-trigger much, Princess?” He replies and Steve would like to firmly refute the statement but it’s fucking true so he just grumbles to himself and keeps his eyes on the road ahead.

Mercifully, Eddie finishes the popsicle in three bites, then pulls a wipe from the glovebox, because Steve has had enough tweens in his car to keep wet wipes on hand, and leans back in his seat as he cleans the residue off his fingers and rings. Eddie leans a lot, he leans on counters and against door frames and on people’s shoulders. He takes up so much space, legs akimbo, arms laid out above his head, despite being relatively slender and not that tall at all. Steve’s rarely seen him use a chair like a normal person. Even in the confines of the Beemer he’s got the seat pushed as far back as it will go, legs stretched out, one foot hitched up resting on the inside door pocket. Steve has told him not to put his shoes on the door so many times he’s given up. Once his fingers are clean he dutifully puts the used wet wipe in the bag used for trash in the back seat and then folds his arms up behind his head and stretches out, arching his back like a cat before flopping back down. There are three very distinct hickeys trailing up his neck and one actual bite mark on the soft skin of his upper arm that Steve vaguely remembers putting there the night before, he turns his eyes back to the road.

It’s ridiculous, because they went for three rounds the night before and there’s that familiar deep ache in Steve’s hips that’s making sitting in the car marginally uncomfortable, but apparently his libido is either completely out of control or there’s something deeply wrong with him. There is no time of the day when Steve isn’t thinking about Eddie in some capacity. Girls flit in and out of Family Video, pretty girls in crop tops with nice legs and great boobs and they bat their lashes at him and sometimes they’re sucking on a lollipop or chewing gum and that really used to get Steve’s engine going before, but now he’s just going through the motions. Flirting back because that’s what’s expected of him. Whilst his brain is stuck replaying the feel of Eddie’s legs wrapped around his waist, the choked-out sound Eddie makes when he’s just about to come, or the way his ringed fingers feel running through Steve’s hair. The fact is that Steve’s mind is currently more X-rated than almost anything in the adult section at Family Video, and he doesn’t know how to turn it off, so he spends most of his time desperately trying to act normal despite feeling completely the opposite.

They reach the turning and Steve pulls the car into the lot, neatly sliding in between a beat-up pick-up truck and a rusty mustang. Eddie doesn’t move to get up, too busy inspecting his rings as the metal hits a particularly strong sunbeam. He’s twisting his hand around in the air like he’s trying to cast a spell or something, head lolling back against the headrest, throat bared. Steve huffs and clambers out of the car, smoothing down his shirt before heading into the cool interior of the building.

***

It’s an especially hot day, schools broke for summer vacation a month prior and Family Video has been inundated with flocks of kids and teens applying for summer jobs ever since. Robin left for some summer band camp excursion a week ago and Steve already misses her presence, too, though he’s sure she’s having more than enough fun without him. When Dustin and the rest of the teens had approached him with ideas for a summer road trip, and then Eddie mentioned some heavy metal show he wanted to go to over in California, Steve had hesitantly accepted. They’d also contacted Jonathan and Nancy who were away at college and they’d agreed to meet them in California, and so now Steve was renting a Winnebago and mentally preparing for two weeks of absolute torture. The torture of having to babysit unruly teenagers 24 hours a day for two weeks, the torture of driving endlessly across country, and of course, the torture of ‘no sex with Eddie’, which, all things considered, definitely felt the hardest blow of all.

Maybe two weeks of abstinence was the perfect opportunity they needed to actually talk about whatever was going on between them. Maybe having to share a confined space with 6 teenagers and Eddie for two weeks will actually give Steve enough time to sort out his frazzled brain and ask Eddie out on a date or something. He wants to, very badly, go on a normal date with Eddie, though he’s not quite sure what a ‘normal’ date with Eddie Munson would look like. Steve knows that normal relationships are usually built on mutual trust and communication and so far he has failed spectacularly on that front. He would feel bad about it but it’s definitely a mutual failure, Eddie seems perfectly happy with their current dynamic.

All in all, despite the torture and the lack of privacy and the absolute certainty that there will be at least one raging argument between the 6 teens during the journey, Steve is looking forward to the trip. Nancy had teased him over the phone as they were finalising their plans, that he was already fulfilling his ‘six little nuggets’ road trip dream. Nancy had hit the mark far more accurately than she could ever have known, so thoroughly that Steve was robbed of speech for a few moments. Then Nancy had laughed and commiserated with him that he was travelling with Eddie Munson and not some gorgeous blonde, Steve had replied that he preferred brunettes anyway, and then they’d both laughed, for different reasons.

***

The man behind the counter looks up from his newspaper and grunts in greeting.

“Reservation under the name Harrington, came to pick up the keys?” Steve smiles, and the guy shuffles through a wad of papers before yelling into the back room for someone called Casey. Casey is a slim girl with a high ponytail and baggy dungarees. She looks kind of pissed off to have been called out to the front, but brightens at the sight of Steve. Steve is still thinking about the ice cream all over Eddie's knuckles and his tongue sliding across them but he gives her his usual winning smile and her cheeks flush ever so slightly, she looks down at her feet.

“There you are, this is the fella renting the ‘bago, here to pick ‘er up.” The man at the counter turns back to his newspaper and Steve is left to Casey. She smiles blankly at him for a few seconds and then seems to snap out of her daze, blinking a few times before jumping into action.

“Right! Okay! J-just a second…” She bumbles, heading into the back room once more, and Steve hears muffled clattering as if of a lot of files falling over and she reappears clutching a clipboard and a pen. After unhooking a set of keys from inside a cabinet on the wall, she steadies herself before gesturing towards the entrance of the store.

“She’s right this way…”

The Winnebago is much the same as the one they stole during the Vecna ordeal. It’s a different colour, and the interior is cleaner, but the basic layout is relatively unchanged. Casey shows him all the amenities, and Steve nods and hmm’s at all the right moments. It’ll be cosy with all eight of them piled in, especially after Will, Mike and Lucas’ recent growth spurts, but they’re going to camp or stay in motels for as much of the trip as possible, and there’s enough space to lay out blankets and sleeping bags if they need. There’s a nice big fold-away table which Eddie had requested as the boys want to play their nerd game during the trip, they’ve even persuaded El and Max to play as well. Dustin has been pestering Steve to join in, too, taking his frequent appearances to their game nights as a sign of his secret interest in the activity, and not a much less secret interest in their Dungeon Master. He knows that’s what Eddie’s job is in the game, he’s the “Dungeon Master”, a title that evokes such a tidal wave of filthy thoughts in his mind that he’s basically banned himself from saying or thinking about it.

They move up to the front of the cab and Casey explains the steering and how it’s different from a regular car. Steve nods when she asks if he’s driven one before and she thankfully doesn’t ask for any details. Then they’re back in the air-conditioned shop front, sitting on hard plastic chairs (Steve’s hips scream) and Steve is filling out insurance forms and contact details and handing over a wad of cash to cover the rental costs. It’s not all his money, Joyce and the Wheelers offered to help pay. Eddie also gave him a handful of crumpled 20s that morning, but Steve is keeping those for gas money. Casey looks over the paperwork one more time before handing over the keys. Her hand lingers a little on Steve’s and he lets it, just for a second, because he’s still King Steve, and then he pulls away with an easy grin, spins the ring of keys around his finger and thanks her as he leaves.

Eddie is still, inexplicably, inspecting his rings in the sunlight as Steve leans in through the open driver side window.

“Are you high?” He asks, because it’s entirely likely even though they spent the whole of the previous evening and the morning together and Steve didn’t see him take or smoke anything. Eddie’s face breaks into a Cheshire cat grin and he drops his hand, turning to face Steve, who, as usual, feels like he’s been punched in the gut the moment Eddie’s eyes meet his.

“Sober as a preacher, Cupcake.” He purrs, “Wouldn’t dream of driving your baby under the influence.” Eddie pats the dashboard affectionately before clambering over the centre console and into the driving seat, face mere centimetres from Steve’s own. He should pull back, should definitely not lean in and catch Eddie’s lips with his own, they are in an extremely public place, he should stop staring at Eddie’s lips like he’s ravenous for them. Eddie leans away first, though not before letting his eyes very obviously travel down to Steve’s own lips and then back up again, his tongue sticking out between his teeth slightly.

Fucking hell, suddenly the reality of just how difficult the next two weeks are going to be for Steve actually hits him. Eddie is chuckling, like he can read Steve’s stupid horny mind. He takes a deep breath, then straightens up slightly, putting enough space between the two of them to give him room to think.

“Right. I’ll see you at Hopper's place, then…” Steve hesitates, Eddie is fiddling with the jumble of tapes in the middle console, rummaging for something to listen to. He’s left enough of his own tapes in Steve’s car by now that Steve has been forced to lie to the kids about his own taste in music.

“No, yeah…I’ve always liked…Judas Priest…yeah, definitely.”

“Yep, see you there, Dollface.” Eddie mutters, focused on slipping a tape out of its case and into the player, it’s an old Nazareth EP, Steve notes, and doesn’t even question why he knows that.

“Right…” Steve still hesitates, he’s not sure why, because there’s really nothing else to say, they’ve already gone over the plan a few times and he’s supposed to drive the Winnebago to Joyce and Hoppers place whilst Eddie takes the Beemer back to the trailer park to pick up Max before joining them at the Byers/Hopper house. Mike, Lucas and Dustin are being driven over by Mike’s mother and Hopper has agreed to let Steve leave his car parked up with them until they return. He’s not even worried about Eddie driving his car, turns out trusting a guy enough to let him do what Eddie and Steve have been frequently doing with each other, also means you likely trust them enough to drive your car around. It’s probably because this is the last few moments they have just the two of them, before they are inundated with noisy teens for the next fourteen days. Probably because Steve wants to say something deeply corny and emotional but he’s fighting back against it because the stark reality is that he and Eddie are not actually dating, they’re just fucking, and as much as Steve would like for it to be both, he has yet to gather the courage to do anything about it.

“Drive safe.” He finally adds lamely, patting the roof of his car. Eddie grins but doesn’t look at him. Steve pines for a fraction of a second, feeling sickened by his own neediness. The engine starts up and a wave of screeching guitars starts with it as the tape player turns on. Steve steps back as Eddie reverses out of the parking space and gives a cheery little wave before swinging the car around and accelerating away.

***

The Winnebago handles like shit. It’s bulky, does badly on turns of any kind and struggles on inclines, but the straights are fine. Steve is flying down the straights, as much as one can fly in a mobile home. Things in the back are rattling gently, but not enough to make him actually turn around and check if anything has fallen. He makes it to Joyce and Hoppers place earlier than planned, feeling a little more optimistic about the whole trip now that he’s actually driven the hulking vehicle without issue.

When Steve pulls up to Joyce and Hopper’s place, there’s already a stack of luggage on the porch and Hopper is lugging another bag of what looks like camping equipment through the open front door. He stands and gives Steve a nod, and almost as soon as Steve is out of the Winnebago and walking across the front lawn he’s mobbed by El and Dustin and Will who fly out of the house so fast they’re almost a blur. Steve’s left a little winded, with three limpets hanging off of him and asking what kind of food is in the trailer and if they can bring their own music and if the Winnebago has a TV with a VCR player so they can have movie nights. He’s given somewhat of a reprieve when Joyce peeks her head out of the front door and smiles warmly, beckoning him to come inside.

“We’re just finishing up breakfast, are you hungry?”

Steve is hungry, it turns out, because at 7am he had decided that pinning Eddie down into his mattress and kissing him senseless was a better use of his morning than making breakfast. He is quickly seated at the kitchen table next to Mike and Lucas and handed a large mug of coffee. The coffee is soon joined by a plate of toast and bacon, he makes a sandwich whilst listening to the teens rattling on about their plans for the trip.

It’s nice, visiting the Byers/Hopper residence, he always feels welcomed and loved and actually wanted, unlike his own house which is almost always empty except for himself, the cleaner and, more recently, Eddie. He’s halfway-through his bacon sandwich when Hopper joins him at the table and hands over a folded-up road map, a torch and what look like a couple of flares.

“I know you’ve got your own, but…just in case.” The man grunts, taking a long drink from his own coffee mug. Steve thanks him, and they chat idly about which route Steve is planning on taking, and where they’ll be stopping that night provided the roads are clear enough. Hopper is giving him some advice on places to visit along the route when a familiar car horn sounds from outside.

“Max!” El is up and out of the kitchen immediately, at the exact same time as Dustin yells “EDDIE!” and sprints outside like it’s Christmas fucking day and Santa has arrived. Steve remains seated, fighting to retain even the smallest sense of normalcy despite really wanting to rush outside as well. He saw the man barely 30 minutes ago, it should be impossible to miss him already.

He hears Eddie yell “Henderson!” in his goofy barbarian voice, and then there’s some muffled yelps and thudding that Steve imagines is the pair of them tackling each other to the ground and tickling each other because that’s about as mature as Eddie gets around the teens. Max wanders into the kitchen arm-in-arm with El who is chattering away happily, and Lucas is already pouring her a glass of orange juice.

“Hey Dingus.” Max breezes as she sits down next to Steve and accepts the juice with a smile.

“Morning, brat.” Steve replies, but it’s got no sting at all.

Steve is vaguely aware that Max must have some inkling of his goings on with Eddie, because she lives in the trailer across from him and there’s no way she hasn’t seen Steve’s car there at least once or twice. He tries to keep his visits to the early hours of the morning, but even so his car is very recognisable. Hanging out during the day is one thing, hanging out at 2am almost every night of the week is a whole different situation. Still, Max has yet to say anything to either of them, as far as Steve is aware, and he’s not going to look a gift horse in the mouth.

“Guys! Eddie’s here!” Dustin yells through the open front door, sounding breathless from the exertion of the tickle fight.

“Yes, we heard. Would you like some coffee sweetheart?” That’s Joyce again, leaning her head around the kitchen door and looking out into the entrance where Steve can already hear the familiar tread of Eddie’s boots against the tiled floor.

“Yeah please, thanks.” Comes Eddie’s reply, and he’s using the polite, shy voice he reserves mostly for parents of the teens because he’s still not quite used to them actually caring about him and not treating him like a murder suspect. Steve smirks into his coffee, it’s a cute voice, he doesn’t get to hear it very often.

Dustin pulls Eddie into the kitchen by the hem of his t-shirt, and he follows along willingly and allows Dustin to push him into the open seat next to his own. He’s already talking about ‘the campaign’ and the new character he’s brewed up for it, Eddie grins and nods a greeting at Steve who reflexively swallows a mouthful of scalding coffee before lifting a hand in response and wiping the tears from his eyes at the pain. Eddie has already turned back to Dustin and Will and Mike who have converged at the other end of the table. Steve hears the words ‘tiamat’ and ‘aboleth’ and quickly loses the entire thread of whatever they’re talking about, but it doesn’t stop his ear perking up every time Eddie speaks. He’s happily working his way through a second coffee when his attention is drawn back to the other side of the table once more.

“Oh, dear you’ve been through the wars again, haven’t you?” Joyce chuckles, and Steve looks up to see her prodding at Eddie’s neck. It’s probably good that everyone else is now focusing on that end of the table, too, because Steve is sure he’s flushing beet red.

Eddie laughs, not the head back riotous laughter he usually responds with, but a sort of embarrassed chuckle, one hand moving up to cover his neck.

“Sorry, s’kinda hard to hide them in this weather…” He mumbles, and the teens are staring at them, too, now, which is even worse. Steve wishes the tiled flooring beneath him would crack open and swallow him whole.

“He’s always got those things, last week he had like, ten.” Oh great, now Dustin is joining in with his usual complete lack of tact. Joyce laughs at this.

“Ten, huh? Well if they make Eddie happy, that’s all we can ask. Though I do think she should spare a thought for your poor neck, dear.” She pats him on the shoulder and Steve violently avoids looking at Eddie because he’ll absolutely explode if they make eye contact in this exact moment.

“I’ll have a word…” Eddie mutters in reply, and Steve can hear the shit-eating grin in his voice.

“I still don’t get why you won’t tell us who they are!” Dustin starts up, and Mike and El pile in on this, too. This is their latest pet-project, finding out who Eddie is dating, and so far some of the guesses have been truly exceptional. Dustin is almost 100% convinced it’s Robin, and has even gone as far as trying to console Steve about the loss of his love. It would be hilarious, it would be so funny, the funniest thing in the world if Steve was just a passive participant in all the intrigue and not the actual culprit. Eddie shushes the squawking, holding up a hand and gazing at them all in turn.

“A magician never reveals his tricks.” He says, wiggling his fingers at them, and they all three pause their interrogating enough for Eddie to take a sip of his coffee, and then they decide that’s a shitty response and continue to hound Eddie about his love life until Hopper speaks up, loudly.

“Hey, let the man have his secrets, alright? It’s none of our business.”

This shuts down the discussion completely, though Steve is quite sure it will be a topic of much interest throughout the road trip. He’s going to have to figure out a way to not look extremely uncomfortable and flushed every time they bring it up, and quickly.

He and Hopper load the Winnebago with the party's luggage and camping equipment, and then the stuff in the back of Steve’s car. Steve is surprised to find Eddie’s guitar laying across the backseats and actually takes the time to double check with him if he’s really bringing it along. Eddie really hams it up, clutching his chest in mock horror and wailing that he can’t possibly spend two whole weeks apart from his beloved, and that Steve is a cruel, cruel man to even consider driving a wedge between the two of them. He gets Will and Mike and Dustin on his side, too, they all gang up on him, Steve has a feeling this is what his next two weeks are going to look like. He just hmm’s and nods and goes back out the car to remove the precious instrument from the backseat and place it in the Winnebago along with everything else.

Then, after another cup of coffee and Joyce insisting everyone use the bathroom before they leave, the teens finally say their goodbyes and bundle into the camper van, overly excited and rowdy, making themselves comfortable in the back. Hopper takes a moment to give them all a stern speech about responsibility, not making trouble for Steve or Eddie and sticking together when camping, they all listen dutifully and promise to behave, Steve doesn’t hold out hope that that promise will last very long.

“Well, if you need us for anything you know where to call, and be sure to call us when you’re there and you’ve met up with Jonathan and Nancy.” Joyce beams at both Steve and Eddie. They nod sincerely. “Here, this should help towards gas and food…now, are you sure you’re going to be okay? Is there anything else you need?” Joyce shoves a small roll of bills into Eddie’s hand and his carefully crafted smile falters for a second, Steve sees him glance his way, as if asking if it’s really okay to accept the money.

“You really don’t have to, you already helped with the rental…” Steve begins, but Joyce cuts him off with a wave of her hand.

“None of that nonsense, you’re taking care of our kids for two weeks, it’s the least we can do.”

“Thanks. We should have everything, I was thinking we’d stop at the supermarket as we leave town, stock up on food and stuff…I think we’re good to go. Right Eds?”

“Yeah, ready as we’ll ever be.” Eddie says, and Steve keeps his focus solely on Joyce and Hopper because he is trying to be normal and not the hormone ravaged sex-crazed monster he becomes when he so much as looks at Eddie.

“Well then, good luck, drive safe and have fun.” Joyce hugs them both in turn, not the cold one second hugs Steve’s mother gives him, but a real rib-cracking hug that settles over him and leaves a warm comfort behind, like he’s been wrapped in a big blanket of love. Hopper hugs them too, which is a new thing, at least for Steve and Eddie, but they’re happy to accept it.

“Take care.” Hopper ends the hug with a firm hand clasped on his shoulder and not for the first time, Steve wishes Hopper would adopt him, too. Hopper claps Eddie on the back, too, and then they’re both clambering up the steps of the Winnebago and Hopper and Joyce wave as Steve reverses slowly out of the drive, losing sight of the pair as they round the corner heading towards the highway.

Chapter Text

By the time Steve pulls the Winnebago into the parking lot of the closest grocery store to the highway, Lucas and Dustin are already arguing. It’s not the kind of arguing Steve actually cares about, after all they’re only bickering over which superhero from their comic books had the coolest powers. But considering they’ve only been on the road for about 20 minutes, it doesn’t bode well for the rest of their journey.

“Alright you guys! We’re just here to pick up actual food for the trip, so don’t go running off to the candy aisle or trying to get me to buy you booze, okay? In and out in 20 minutes!” Steve yells out behind him, and there is a disarray of calls back. He turns to Eddie, who is curled up in the passenger seat, eyes closed, knees pulled up to his chest.

“You coming in?” God does he sound breathless? Since when was he unable to handle the act of asking Eddie a simple question when the guy isn’t even looking at him?

Eddie scoots up in his seat a little and stares out across the parking lot towards the grocery store. After a moment he wrinkles his nose in distaste and returns to his former position.

“I’m good here. You know what I like, Sugar.” He turns the full force of an affectionate grin at Steve and he has to remind himself to breathe for a moment before he can reply.

“Suit yourself.” He isn’t really surprised, there are still plenty of people in Hawkins who believe Eddie is a satanic cult leading serial killer, despite the excellent cover story the government created. It’s rare for Eddie to go anywhere in Hawkins other than Family Video or his friends’ houses. As far as Steve is aware Corroded Coffin haven’t performed or even had band practice since before spring break. Granted, that might be more due to Steve monopolising all of Eddie’s free time in order to have sex, but the point still stands that Eddie has become something of a recluse since the Vecna debacle. Steve wrangles the teens together, his mind still very much back in the Winnebago with Eddie, and they troupe out of the vehicle already excitedly discussing what they want to eat that night.

It doesn’t go quite as badly as Steve had thought it would, he only has to veto a few items, and the gang actually offer to help carry the bags back. He’s already halfway out of the store when someone yells his name from behind. It’s a voice he, unfortunately, recognises.

“King Steve!”

Jason fucking Carver, typical.

Steve has to wonder if Eddie has a 6th sense for when douchebags are nearby. It’s just his luck to be accosted by the number one dickhead in Hawkins when he is minutes away from the town border and two weeks of freedom.

“Carver.” He grits his teeth, responding only because he knows it’s too late to feign ignorance. There’s a hand on his shoulder like a vice a moment later. Jason is inexplicably still wearing his letterman jacket, despite the intense summer heat and the fact that he graduated several weeks earlier.

“Not with your murderer friend today, huh?”

The jock is still hellbent on his vendetta against Eddie, only several mandates from the police and a few menacing encounters with government officials seem to be holding him back from attacking the guy. Since he doesn’t have the balls to go after Eddie directly, he’s taken to tormenting everyone around Eddie instead. One chance meeting at Family Video and Steve has been at the top of his list ever since. Jason actually seems to be going out of his way to bump into Steve at random places around Hawkins. His threats might be getting stale, but his persistence is honestly impressive, if incredibly annoying.

Steve rolls his eyes. Dustin and Lucas are paused halfway across the parking lot, watching with concern. They almost look like they want to come running back, Steve hopes they don’t.

“None of my friends are murderers.” It’s a lie, a boldfaced one coming from Steve himself who has definitely gotten very close to murder once or twice, particularly with the Russians. Still, given the circumstances he can hardly be blamed for his actions. It’s not like Jason Carver knows what’s really been going on around town anyway, despite apparently witnessing a Vecna attack first-hand. Jason barks a laugh that doesn’t sound amused at all, the hand on his shoulder squeezes harder.

“Tell the freak, it’s on sight.”

It should probably sound threatening, Steve thinks, but it doesn’t, because it’s Jason fucking Carver and not some grizzled mafia boss. Steve shrugs him off with a sigh.

“Sure. That all?” He just wants to get back to the camper van, it’s too hot outside for the popsicles he’s carrying, and the teens are now gathered awkwardly around the Winnebago doors, just watching. He can’t see Eddie at all, which is a relief.

“Watch your step, King Steve.” Is that supposed to be a threat, too? Jason takes a few steps back and Steve squares his shoulders, straightens up, and crosses the parking lot as quickly as he can without actually breaking into a run.

“Has that asshole still not given up?” Dustin is the first to ask.

“Language.” Is Steve’s knee-jerk response, to which Max scoffs.

They’re finally all back inside and Steve is putting the groceries away with El’s help. The rest of them are already tearing open bags of potato chips and handing out slightly melted popsicles. Eddie is silent, Steve can see him out of the corner of his eye, picking at the upholstery of his chair. It is taking a monumental amount of self-control to not go over to the guy, push him down into his seat and kiss the sullen pout off of his face.

“Why won’t he just leave it alone? The cops have spoken to him like twenty times already.” Mike whines.

“He’ll stop eventually, yes? Because Eddie didn’t do anything wrong.” El speaks up, sounding so damn sure of it, like she can read the fucking future or something. Maybe she can, Steve still isn’t quite sure about most of El’s powers.

They go round and round like this, all of the teens, and Steve only gets them to shut up about it after all the groceries are put away. They grumble and whine but Steve is already back in the driver’s seat. He risks a sideways glance at Eddie but the guy had folded up on himself once more, hugging one knee to his chest, a curtain of hair covering his face. It bothers Steve, because he has no fix for Eddie’s predicament, and he can’t get the guy to talk to him about it, either. It’s just another thing added to the list of topics the two of them do not discuss, another worry added to Steve’s already heavily encumbered shoulders.

***

It’s a hot day, and the Winnebago grows uncomfortably warm pretty quickly as they trundle down the highway. The gang are relatively quiet, playing card games and chatting in the back, the windows all partially down to encourage a breeze. It’s a little easier than Steve thought it would be to not think about Eddie’s skin against his, to not replay their extremely pleasurable evening in his head like some dreadful amateur porno. With the gang so close by, and the controls of the Winnebago being as clunky as they are, he’s able to keep his mind occupied by other, more mundane thoughts.

Unfortunately this means he’s mostly been sitting in silence, whilst one of Eddie’s less screamy mixtapes plays over the groan of the engine. Sitting is fine, for about an hour or so, but every time he has to change gear his thigh muscles burn and his hip aches, and the more it happens, the worse it gets. After two hours on the road Steve is having to readjust his sitting position every few minutes or so, it doesn’t bode well for the rest of the drive. On top of that, the dull pains are just another reminder of his self-imposed abstinence for the duration of the trip, two and a half weeks is already starting to feel like an eternity.

“You good, Eds?” Steve tries to sound nonchalant, sneaking a glance across at the long-haired man, who has been silent for the past several hours as the Winnebago trundles down the highway. A silence that has been worrying Steve more and more as time stretches on, since Eddie usually won’t shut up.

Eddie unfurls, stretching out his legs and arms and turning his whole body to face Steve. Steve watches out of the corner of his eye and definitely doesn’t notice how his t-shirt is all hitched up at his waist, a sinful strip of soft belly and dark happy trail on show for the whole dang world. Steve’s mouth has gone spectacularly dry. Eddie must have been dozing because his voice is heavy with sleep when he responds.

“Catching up on my beauty sleep, big boy. You?”

Steve is sure Eddie has a list somewhere of all the truly ridiculous pet names he calls him. It’s so much the norm between them now that no one even bats an eyelid. It’s not like he only does it to Steve, he calls the kids stupid names and Robin is his ‘birdy’ and Nancy is ‘guns’ but with Steve it feels different, at least to him. The fact that Eddie only uses his actual name in the bedroom probably means something, right? It definitely means something to Steve, who has developed a Pavlovian response to it in the past two months, so much so that if Eddie called him ‘Steve’ or ‘Harrington’ in public he’d probably get, at least, a semi. It’s almost a blessing that Eddie sticks to the stupid nicknames, they’re embarrassing, yeah, but for an entirely different reason.

Steve pulls his attention back to driving and nods, switching down a gear as a saloon car pulls past to overtake the Winnebago. He shifts in his seat, trying to readjust his hips into a position that doesn’t ache.

“Yeah, all good…” Steve trails off, moving in his seat again, Eddie chuckles.

“Hips feeling okay?” Eddie's voice is so quiet it’s barely audible, and it’s coloured with that damn devil's grin that Steve can see in his head even without looking at him. He huffs and counts to three in his head before even attempting to respond, aggressively not thinking about the events of the night before.

They never talk about it in the light of day, the aches and strains and hickeys and bruises, it was an unspoken agreement between them, or so Steve had thought. Mentioning it outside of the bedroom made it a real, tangible, thing. A thing that Steve worries over constantly, not because he feels any kind of shame or regret, quite the opposite, he’s worried about how easy it is to be with Eddie, and how much he wants more.

“Must have slept funny…” He mumbles eventually, because he can still feel Eddie's eyes burning into the side of his face. This time Eddie doesn’t even attempt to keep his laughter quiet. Steve’s grip on the steering wheel tightens and he keeps his eyes trained on the truck in front of them.

“Sure.” Eddie giggles, once the laughter subsides.

He’d record it, if he could, Eddie Munson’s giggles and laughs and all the other stupid little noises the guy makes. Record it so he can play it back to himself in the future when they’re back to being just pleasant acquaintances. A time capsule of all the happy moments despite the mountain of bullshit Eddie spends every day wading through. He’s learnt enough about Eddie by now. Heard enough about him and from him, to know the guy hasn’t exactly had the easiest life, even before the shit with the Upside Down and their extended stay in the hospital followed by weeks of changing out stinking bandages and the meds making their stomachs turn. Steve has his own personal problems, and he knows enough not to try and touch the landmine of Eddie’s, but he’s willing to sacrifice a little of his dignity once in a while, if it’ll make the fucker laugh.

Twenty minutes later Eddie pulls himself to his feet and heads over to the small refrigerator in the kitchenette. He attempts to ruffle Steve’s hair in passing, but Steve yelps indignantly and he ends up just patting his head affectionately which is almost worse, honestly. It leaves Steve’s cheeks feeling far too warm and his heart aching in his chest. Eddie pulls a drink from the fridge and wanders over to the couch at the back where the gang are sprawled out. Will is drawing something and almost instantly Eddie is there at his side, complimenting and giving advice in equal measure. Will brightens immediately and the pair are soon scribbling away on a shared sketchpad. Steve watches this in stolen glances at the rear-view mirror but not because he is so smitten that Eddie being at the other end of the Winnebago feels too far away, definitely not because of that.

***

The campsite is already populated with a few other travellers when Steve pulls the Winnebago into the entrance. There’s a little hut staffed by a grumpy middle-aged man in a grubby denim jumpsuit who charges them $10 for the night and tells Steve to follow the signs down a dirt track to get to the right spot. The sun is almost setting, the sky that’s not hidden by trees is bleeding purple and orange. The teens set up their three tents, unrolling sleeping bags and chattering away excitedly about making s’mores and telling scary stories around the campfire that night.

“Fire, or food?” Steve asks, and Eddie tilts his head in thought for a moment, leaning against the side of the Winnebago. There’s a half-smoked cigarette hanging from his lips that Steve has spent the past five minutes trying not to stare at.

“Fire.” He grins, and Steve could probably have guessed without asking. Eddie locates the firelighters and kindling and gets started, crouching down beside the fire pit. This gets the group interested and suddenly it’s ‘let’s all make a fire in the most unsafe way imaginable’ time. Steve watches for a few moments, as Eddie instructs all six of them in how to stack the kindling and firewood. He places the travel sized fire extinguisher the Winnebago came with close by and leaves the group to it. Sure, he trusts Eddie to shut things down if it actually gets dangerous, but sometimes Eddie has a strange idea of what dangerous actually is. Steve feels extremely responsible for keeping the teens and Eddie alive and uninjured for the entire trip, but he’s not going to spoil their fun if he can help it.

They voted on what to have for dinner, so Steve is stuck preparing a vat of chilli in the kitchen whilst listening to everyone having fun outside. It’s tough work, between chopping onions, wrestling open cans of beans (not a can-opener is sight) and frying off minced meat, plus trying to gauge which screams are the fun kind and which are the ‘oh shit Eddie and Max are burning the Winnebago down’ kind. He’s so focused on cooking that he almost jumps out of his skin when a familiar ringed hand slides around his waist twenty minutes later, pulling him backwards an inch or so.

"Christ, Eds!" He gasps, somehow managing to keep his voice low, despite the shock and the tingle of electricity running down his spine. He tries to throw a glance behind him towards the door, but Eddie just moves closer, blocking his view. His other hand is already sneaking around to meet the first. Steve’s knees wobble slightly, he does his best to ignore it.

“Relax, I closed the door.” Eddie murmurs, his mouth so close to Steve’s ear he can feel his breath. It goes right to his crotch, as most things involving Eddie do, and his heart refuses to stop racing like he’s just run a marathon.

“Housewife Harrington. Suits you. Shame there’s no apron.” Eddie continues in that same low murmur. There it is, that shudder down his spine at the sound of his own name in Eddie’s mouth. Steve has lost the power of speech. Steve is about to lose the power of everything, which is insane because Eddie really is just hugging him from behind and talking in his ear, they’re both fully clothed in a relatively public place and there’s a pot of chili bubbling away on the stove that Steve should really be stirring. Not for the first time, Steve wonders if he’ll ever be able to feel normal about being touched by Eddie.

“Smells good.” Eddie continues, his hands now clasped around Steve’s middle, his entire body pressed tightly against Steve’s. Long strands of hair tickle Steve’s neck and he is seconds away from turning around in the embrace and giving in to the painful need to be kissing and touching and possessing the other man.

Why it took the threat of an extra-dimensional monster, and both of them almost dying, for Steve to understand his own feelings is a mystery even to himself. It’s baffling because now that he knows what the fluttering in his chest means whenever he looks at Eddie, a lot of his time at high school suddenly makes a whole lot more sense. He’s almost pissed off at his younger self because, by Steve’s own calculations, he and Eddie could have been hooking up since he was a Junior. Then again, perhaps it’s better that he and Eddie met properly after Steve stopped being the person he had been back in school.

They’re almost of a height, Steve is slightly taller and that’s mostly the hair honestly, but he can’t help but feel like they fit together perfectly. Like Eddie is just the right shaped puzzle piece to match his, and then he wants to throw up from how corny that sounds even in his head. Vaguely, over the thudding of his own heartbeat, he can hear the shouts and chatter of the group outside, muffled through the closed door. He’s about to gather the fragments of his shattered mind together enough to form a sentence, or maybe just a word, but then Eddie plants a quick kiss on his neck and is gone, re-joining the party around the campfire. In the sudden shock of cold air against his back from the loss of body contact, Steve thinks he actually might throw up.

It’s not that he doesn’t appreciate the kiss, or the hug, or the general body-to-body contact, brief though it was. He spends all day, every day, craving it, even more so due to their current situation. It’s more that he’s now left to deal with the way his mind immediately spins off into wild fantasies of all the things that could have happened. Things that could happen if they weren’t in an RV with no sound proofing, with 6 nosey teenagers hanging out outside. Steve didn’t even bring condoms on the trip because he knows without a shadow of a doubt that he and Eddie will not have so much as 10 minutes alone together, and if by some miracle they did manage to sneak away, there is still the constant threat of being caught.

***

Steve survives dinner through sheer force of will. He plants himself as far from Eddie as possible in the circle of teens, sandwiched in-between Lucas and Will, and focuses solely on spooning hot chili into his mouth, chewing for a moment and then swallowing. He can’t even taste the damn stuff, it’s just a hot buzz on his tongue followed by the crunch of tortilla chips. It’s fine, he thinks to himself, just another four nights of this before the buffer of Nancy, Jonathan and Argyle appear like knights in shining armour. Then Eddie, Jonathan and Argyle would be leaving for the music festival for almost four days, and Steve would be able to breathe normally again. Of course, the absence of Eddie for four whole days will likely feel as if he’s lost a limb, an annoyingly attractive, distracting, limb. He’s not quite sure which is worse. The idea of Eddie spending three nights away from him surrounded by a bunch of other metalheads, is pretty concerning. Eddie is sure to make friends with everyone he meets, certain to draw the attention and eyes of everyone in his general vicinity, heck a bunch of those metalheads are probably also into nerd games and nerd books just like Eddie. The only thing Steve and Eddie have in common is the Upside Down, Dustin, and a few scars. Hardly the basis for an ideal relationship, not that Steve is insecure at all.

He’s pulled out of his increasingly bleak thoughts when Mike starts yelling about s’mores and of course it’s Steve’s job to go get the marshmallows, graham crackers and chocolate from the kitchen. Does he chance a glance at Eddie as he passes him on his way? Of course he does. Steve Harrington’s self-control is made of silly putty. Eddie’s face is bathed in the warm orange light of the campfire, catching the red in his hair and his eyes are sparkling and wide as he and Dustin chatter away. Steve’s not proud of the things he wants to do to the man at that moment. He tears his eyes away from the scene, his whole-body aching with desire and adoration and he has to take a few moments to pull himself together once he gets to the Winnebago.

Rationally Steve knows he is overreacting. He’s not going to actually die, he’s not going to wither away or shrivel up just because he can’t have sex with Eddie for the next few weeks. He’s equally not going to lose his mind whilst Eddie attends a three-day music festival with Jonathan and Argyle. In fact, putting some distance between them might actually be a good thing, giving them both space to breathe after two months of being practically glued to each other. This doesn’t make it any easier to accept, however. There’s a small, mean part of Steve that hopes Eddie doesn’t have too much fun without him, hopes that Eddie feels just as lost when Steve isn’t around as Steve does when Eddie isn’t around. He’s plagued by the worry that it doesn’t mean as much to Eddie as it does to him, that Eddie is just going along with it but will call things off as soon as he finds someone else, someone better. He’s scared to talk about it because he knows he won’t be able to handle the rejection well, if that’s how things end up.

On his way back to the campfire, s’mores ingredients in hand, he passes Eddie a cold soda without looking at him. Or rather, he pushes the drink into the space where he knows Eddie is and lets go when he feels someone else’s hand clasp the bottle.

“Thanks, Peach.” Eddie hums. Steve nods, already returning to his space. The smoke from the campfire is almost high enough that he can’t see Eddie beyond it. Once everyone is happily munching away, Max announces that it’s time for scary stories. As if any of them need more nightmares, Steve thinks sullenly, but since the sleeping arrangements mean it will be just him and Eddie on the pull-out couches inside the trailer, he isn’t in any hurry to leave the fireside.

In any other situation, at the prospect of spending a night alone with Eddie, Steve would have cancelled dinner and already been in his PJs. But the thought of trying to get any sleep at all whilst every cell in his body is painfully aware of Eddie lying barely four feet away yet untouchable, compounded with his usual night terrors, is not appealing.

The first few stories are pretty tame, Steve nurses a lukewarm beer as each of the teens take turns to speak. After Will’s story, however, Steve can see a few of them getting spooked. Will looks immensely proud, Steve claps him on the shoulder with a nod of approval, but then it’s Max’s turn and it becomes abundantly clear that Will’s story was just the warm up for the actual horror.

“Alright, that’s enough guys. It’s getting late.” Steve sighs after Max finishes her story with an ominous laugh.

“But Eddie hasn’t told his scary story yet.” Dustin pipes up after a moment of silence. Steve shoots a glance across the fire at Eddie. How long had Eddie been looking at him? Did he not feel the gaze because of the heat of the campfire? For a moment Steve frantically tries to remember if he had been doing anything weird or embarrassing for the past few minutes. He adjusts his shirt awkwardly before turning back to Dustin.

“No. No way. Last time Eds told you all a horror story you almost wet your pants. Bed. Now.”

Steve sticks to his guns, standing up and brushing the dust from his jeans. At least his hips don’t feel too bad anymore. Truth be told Max’s story had already been pushing it, it’s difficult to shake the notion that a psychopathic serial killer wasn’t lying in wait somewhere nearby. Extra-dimensional terrors he can almost handle, a creepy old man with a taste for human flesh? That’s a whole different ball game.

Eddie doesn’t push back against Steve’s orders, merely assures them all that his story can wait for another night and begins dousing the campfire with sand. Steve makes sure they all brush their teeth and are safely in their correct tents, each pair stocked with two bottles of water and a flashlight just in case, before retreating into the Winnebago himself.

The main lights are off inside, the only illumination a sliver of light from the partially open bathroom door where Steve can hear Eddie moving around, humming to himself. If they had been at Steve’s, or at Munson’s trailer, Steve would have been sneaking in behind him, pulling him into his arms and indulgently plastering his face and shoulders with kisses whilst Eddie tries to brush his teeth or wash his face. It would be so easy. Just a few small steps to the door and Eddie would be in his arms, or he would be in Eddie’s, and they can pretend they’re back at Steve’s house, blissfully alone. He hovers in the kitchenette, chewing on his lower lip. The gang wouldn’t know, a few kisses wouldn’t hurt, surely? He’s already made a hesitant step towards the slightly open door, and then he stops. It wouldn’t be just a few kisses, Steve is very cognisant of his own limits and when it comes to Eddie, stopping at just a kiss is simply not possible. It feels like he’s walking through molasses, but he moves past the open door, turning his face away just in case he catches a glimpse. He changes into a loose tank top and boxer briefs before washing his face and brushing his teeth at the kitchen sink. By the time Eddie is finished in the washroom, Steve has pulled out both of their beds and is lying on his own, blanket pulled up to his chin.

Eddie’s footsteps pause as he leaves the washroom. With his eyes shut, he can’t see what’s going on, but from the way Steve’s skin tingles he can guess he’s looking his way. Eddie huffs, the light in the bathroom is switched off and Steve thinks, for a fraction of a second, that he might just survive the night after all. That is, until Eddie’s footsteps bring him to the side of his bed, rather than the empty one on the other side of the room.

“Not even a goodnight kiss, huh?” Eddie’s minty breath washes over Steve’s face and his heart slams against his ribcage at the proximity, the hushed tone. He holds his breath, maybe if he pretends to be asleep he can retain his sanity and not yank Eddie down on top of him. He feels needy, hot all over. After a pause, Eddie sighs, the sound tinged with disappointment and Steve’s heart aches from it, that he is the cause of it, he’ll likely never recover.

“S’pose that’s a no, then.” Eddie murmurs, pulling away from Steve’s face and striding over to his own bed. Steve hears springs creak and groan as Eddie no doubt wriggles around trying to find a comfortable position to lie in, but doesn’t dare move to look.

“Night.” Eddie sighs into the heavy air of the Winnebago, and Steve has to clamp his mouth shut to stop himself from replying.

Chapter Text

It takes almost the whole night to fall asleep, but he does manage a couple of hours rest before the morning sun is stabbing him in the face and he almost rolls completely off the bed trying to get away from it. There’s a familiar laugh nearby and Eddie is standing there, brushing his teeth in nothing but boxers. Not only is Steve faced with the ordeal of a barely dressed Eddie Munson, a temptation he isn’t sure will ever lose its appeal, but also all the hickeys he left on the man’s thighs and neck two days prior. Most of them aren’t that bad, some already fading away to orange and yellow but nonetheless, Steve’s eyes travel up and down the expanse of bared flesh hungrily before he remembers where he is and why he absolutely cannot have a hard-on right now. It’s possibly a little late for this realisation, but thankfully his blanket is doing a wonderful job of hiding things for the moment.

“Sleeping beauty awakens.” Eddie grins around his toothbrush.

“What time is it?” Steve squints upwards, speaking to somewhere just above the top of Eddie’s head because he cannot look at the man without being overcome with the desire to be the toothbrush dangling out of his mouth.

“Just gone 6.” Eddie replies, chipper in a way that tells Steve he likely didn’t sleep much.

Eddie on the whole isn’t a morning person, a fact Steve learnt very early on in their…arrangement. Steve usually wakes up earlier, which is wonderful because Steve’s latest hobby is apparently ‘watching Eddie Munson sleep’. He isn’t sure if he finds it enjoyable because he’s attracted to Eddie like a particularly pathetic moth to a flame, or if he’s just relieved that Eddie can sleep at all. Sometimes when Eddie’s breathing gets shallow and slow when he’s asleep, Steve panics and checks his pulse like he’s a particularly elderly house cat.

“Coffee?” Eddie continues, and when Steve manages a nod he hears the pad of bare feet and the creak of the floor as Eddie moves away. He lets out the breath he has been holding in, staring up at the grubby ceiling of the trailer and praying to gods he doesn’t really believe in that he has the strength to get through another day of this torture.

Steve keeps up a carefully maintained distance between them as they drink their coffee in silence and put away the pull-out beds. There’s a shower block at the site, a ragged concrete cube a few minutes’ walk from where they are parked, the water temperature is uncomfortably cold. It’s refreshing, in the same way that dunking your head into a bowl of icy water might be considered refreshing. Nevertheless, if Steve’s shower takes a little longer than strictly necessary, that is between him and his right hand. He emerges in jean shorts and a t-shirt, damp towel slung over his shoulder and his hair still dripping. It’s hard to feel proud of frantically jerking off in a concrete shower cubicle on the side of the highway, but of the options available to Steve, he’ll take what he can get.

He feels a little less stressed as he trudges back towards the Winnebago, a little less tense and rough around the edges. His head is finally clear enough to remember that this road trip is supposed to be fun, and not a weird kind of self-inflicted torture. He and Eddie are, after all, friends. They took a strange path getting there, sure, and Steve still feels a little out of his depth sometimes, but he’d definitely list Eddie as a friend. He’s on a road trip, with his friends, and he’s damn well going to make it a trip to remember.

By the time the teens are awake and haphazardly deconstructing their tents, Eddie and Steve have danced around each other for over an hour. Now that Eddie is fully clothed, bandana tied into his hair like fucking Audrey Hepburn and a pair of oversized sunglasses perched atop it, Steve is almost able to look at him without foaming at the mouth. He makes eggs whilst Eddie confidently burns most of the toast and all eight of them cram around the fold-out table to eat. There are elbows digging into Steve on both sides, and knees banging against his under the table but he doesn’t mind too much. It’s nice, their rag-tag little group all gathered together, eating slightly blackened toast and arguing over who drank the last of the orange juice. Will even takes a few photos with his clunky old polaroid camera, everyone except Steve pulling a stupid face as the flash goes off.

***

“Did you put the clutch down?” Steve sighs, as Eddie stalls the Winnebago for the second time. They haven’t moved more than a few feet yet. The engine sputters out and Eddie strings together some very creative expletives under his breath.

“Yes, I put the fucking clutch down, Your Majesty. I know how to drive stick.”

“Just checking…” Steve leans back against the window of the passenger seat and watches Eddie fiddling with the gear stick, tongue caught between his teeth as it usually is when he’s concentrating really hard on something.

There are a few wonderful advantages to the passenger seat that Steve is currently discovering. The first is that it has a great view of the driver seat, and thus a wonderfully unobstructed view of the driver. The second is that Steve himself is completely hidden from the prying eyes of anyone else in the vehicle, meaning he can stare all he wants and no one will notice (other than Eddie). He feels utterly content to watch Eddie stall the RV for the rest of the morning, his cheeks getting more and more flushed from the agitation with every passing minute.

Steve gave up pretending not to stare at Eddie about two weeks into their arrangement. He was never good at playing it cool, playing aloof and disconnected. It just didn’t sit right, especially after discovering that if he stares at Eddie for long enough, Eddie gets incredibly flustered. Steve gets chills every time he remembers the night he’d had to explain that he wasn’t staring at Eddie because he was angry, or trying to freak him out, but just because he liked looking at him. Eddie’s expression of utter bewilderment and the way he’d squeaked out an “okay…” before running away into the kitchen, Steve kept that memory locked up alongside the first “big boy” and the incident with the broken bottle.

“Third time’s the charm.” Steve grins, as Eddie tries the ignition once more and eases the RV into 1st gear. He gets a middle finger carelessly tossed in his direction in response and chuckles.

Third time really is the charm, apparently, as Eddie makes it all the way to the exit of the camp site without issue. The gang cheers, somewhat patronisingly, from the back. He finally relaxes into the driver’s seat after ten minutes on the highway and Steve unfolds the map across his lap, annotated with the route they’d agreed on back in Hawkins.

“Straight sailing for about three hours…” He announces after inspecting the paper for a few moments, Eddie nods and waves a hand in the air.

“Thanks Mom.”

“I’m just making sure we don’t end up in fucking Nebraska or something…”

“You trust me so little, cupcake? I’m hurt!” Eddie clutches his chest dramatically, but his eyes remain on the road ahead. Actually, Steve is starting to think he’s avoiding looking at him entirely, it makes him want to play up even more to get attention, to get those dark eyes to look his way.

“I call it as I see it, Eds, you’ve got the navigational skills of a…” He fumbles for a moment, witty remarks were never his strong point. “…drunk Labrador?” It wasn’t his best. Eddie chokes out a shocked laugh.

“A drunk Labrador?!” He laughs, banging one hand on the steering wheel. It takes a few moments for him to regain control and Steve basks in it, even though he’s definitely being laughed at and not with.

“At least Labradors are cute, I guess…” Eddie sighs with a small smile, and Steve can’t help himself but respond, it bubbles up and out in a rushed mumble before he can put a lid on it.

“Same as you, then.”

The effect is almost immediate, Eddie’s cheeks flush pink, the tips of his ears tinged the same hue, he clenches the steering wheel with both hands and stares straight ahead in strained silence. It’s not quite what Steve was hoping for, he had been anticipating a shocked glance in his direction at least, but then he gets another middle finger thrown at him and Eddie mutters darkly to himself and Steve wonders if he said something wrong. Did he cross a line he wasn’t supposed to, encroaching on some unspoken taboo of fuckbuddies?

There’s no way to ask in their current situation, and soon Eddie is shoving a tape in and cranking the volume up high enough to make conversation impossible. Steve settles into the silence between them uncomfortably, the steady vibrations of the engine and the warmth of the morning sun on his skin reminding him of just how little he slept the night before. He struggles against his heavy lids for a while, still casting longing glances towards Eddie, but eventually loses the battle and falls asleep.

***

Steve is painfully jerked out of his doze, sliding forwards out of his seat as the Winnebago comes to a sudden and jarring stop. He blinks against the sudden onslaught of pain, light and noise.

“Woops, stalled it again.” Eddie says cheerfully, and the engine stops completely.

“Where are we?” Steve asks, he’d like to also ask why they are stopping and what time it is and how long he was asleep, but he’s still half out of it, rubbing his bruised thigh.

“Getting gas.” Eddie hums, already clambering out of his seat and stretching his legs in the narrow space between the driver's seat and the passenger seat. Steve sits back up, looks out of the front windows and does see a gas station forecourt. He also sees something else that has him shooting a suspicious glare up at Eddie.

“Eds…what’s that?” He points, keeping his eyes trained on the long-haired man in front of him who is now twisting around to stretch out his back, Steve almost gets an elbow in the face.

“Huh…I dunno…?” Eddie lies, badly, and Steve runs a hand through his hair with an exasperated sigh.

“Did you take us on a detour to go to some stupid roadside attraction?”

Eddie avoids his gaze, still feigning stretching, his shirt riding up enough that Steve gets an eyeful of bared stomach and his own stomach flip flops with a mix of desire and irritation.

“What’re you guys waiting for? C’mon let’s go!!” Dustin taps his foot impatiently, the door is already open and the gang are piling out excitedly. Eddie follows Dustin out before Steve can say anything else.

It shouldn’t even constitute an attraction. It’s just a tacky gift shop and an old water tower fitted up to look like a big bottle of mustard, but the gang are weirdly excited by it, and Eddie is practically bouncing off the walls. Maybe it’s his energy that the others are feeding off. Soon enough he has them all gathered up and taking far too many polaroid’s with the stupid water tower mustard bottle monstrosity in the background. They bundle into the little gift shop and Steve wanders around unimpressed while Eddie fiddles with almost everything, eventually finding something that clearly excites him more than the other junk and rushing over to Dustin and Lucas to show them.

“Largest bottle of mustard in the U.S.A.” Eleven states, reading one of the many fridge magnets on display. Steve nods, feigning interest whilst holding back a comment about how this stop is a waste of time, and how they’re going to be running late all day now. Also, it’s not even a real bottle of mustard, just a water tower dressed up as one. But the gang do seem to be having fun, and he’d already promised himself to make the trip memorable. He also can’t help but feel like he’d be enjoying things a lot more if he’d slept better.

“You’re not having fun.” El continues with her usual tact, now staring hard at Steve.

“Me? I’m fine.” He replies, uncomfortable as she continues to stare at him, unblinking.

“You don’t like mustard?”

“What…?” Steve gapes, trying to figure out the thought process El used to get to that assumption. “No, no it’s not…mustard is fine. I’m fine.” He repeats with slightly more force this time, and then Max is there looking at the magnets too so El’s attention is pulled away.

There’s a hand on his shoulder and a piece of folded up paper being waved in his face a moment later. Suddenly all the air in the shop seems to disappear as Eddie’s face and hair and entire being are crammed into Steve’s personal space. It’s stifling and wonderful all at the same time, and Steve should really be used to it by now since Eddie has no concept of boundaries and tends to lean on anyone who’s nearby, which, yeah, is usually Steve.

“See this?!” The paper is waved around even more enthusiastically and Steve’s eyes can’t make out anything other than a colourful blur. He’s far too preoccupied by the warmth radiating off of Eddie and onto him where they are touching. Touching, touching even through their shirts it’s like a thousand little electric shocks, it’s hard enough to keep his breathing stable at such a proximity.

“Eds...Eds!” He yelps when Eddie does not stop waving the paper in his face despite him trying to grab it to get a proper look. “I can’t see it if you’re flapping it around like that, man.” He huffs, already feeling bad for raising his voice. Eddie sighs and reaches his other arm around in front of Steve to unfold the paper. Steve, now trapped in the circle of Eddie’s arms and being forced to pay attention to the map held out in front of him instead of the pressure of Eddie’s chest against his back, is rapidly losing his sanity.

“It’s a map.” He states, dumbly. Honestly all the heat in his body is moving downwards at a rapid rate. In all his life Steve Harrington never imagined himself getting aroused in a tacky little roadside gift shop in broad daylight. Life sure is funny like that, Steve is starting to feel like someone up there (down there?) really doesn’t like him.

Eddie tuts in his ear, releasing him for a fraction of a second only to lean against his shoulder instead, holding the map even closer to his face. Well, at least the weight of Eddie’s body is gone from his back, offering a slight glimmer of hope that he won’t have to jerk off in a gas station restroom any time soon.

“It’s not just a map, Dollface…it’s a map of all the weird and wonderful attractions, like this one, stretching across this vast country.” Eddie is beaming, the same affectionate look he uses on his beloved guitar. Steve stares at the paper, the folded-out section shows a road map of part of the country, with attractions marked with cartoonish illustrations. There’s a key on one side which lists the name of the attraction and not much else.

“Did Eddie show you the map?!” Dustin and Lucas squeeze down the aisle side by side, faces shining with excitement.

“There are at least four other attractions we can visit today alone!” Lucas adds, as if destroying Steve’s carefully planned travel itinerary (Nancy, Joyce and Hopper did most of the planning) was the best thing ever. Steve looks from smiling face to smiling face, eventually stopping on Eddie’s and…fuck. He’s doing that wide-eyed childlike smile that takes over his whole stupid face, Steve’s heart judders, powerless against it. He frowns, folding his arms in a vain attempt to make it at least look like he doesn’t cave immediately. Lucas and Dustin watch him carefully, Eddie is still leaning on him, the map now held at his side. Their bare arms are touching slightly, he can feel one of Eddie’s rings knocking against his leg.

“…Fine.” He sighs heavily. “But only the ones on our route. We’re not taking hour-long detours for these things, okay?” Dustin, Lucas and Eddie now turn to grin at each other, and Steve has a very bad feeling about that. “Okay?” He repeats, looking at Eddie in particular.

***

By the time lunch rolls around, they’ve visited two other places on the map. Mike has a grazed knee from tripping over his own feet whilst trying to pose next to a large ball of string, and El has three weird fridge magnets commemorating each location. Steve is very much immediately regretting his involvement in the entire affair and has decided stuffing his face with fries and milkshake is the only answer.

There’s a corner booth at the almost empty diner that all eight of them can squeeze into, they have to share two menus between all of them, but it’s not too bad. The food arrives quickly and the waitress is a chatty older woman who only briefly pauses at the sight of six teenagers being chaperoned by two guys barely out of their teens themselves. She eyes Eddie’s tattoos and rings warily but says nothing, Eddie is too busy dropping ketchup on his shirt to notice.

“Ergh, strawberry?” Eddie groans, putting Steve’s drink back down in disgust.

“I like strawberry.”

“I don’t.”

“I didn’t get it for you, drink your own milkshake.”

“Thought it was vanilla, you always get vanilla.” Eddie huffs, pulling his own chocolate milkshake back towards him and taking a long drink.

“You got strawberry?!” Dustin leans across the table and grabs Steve’s drink instead, jamming the straw into his mouth before Steve can stop him.

“Hey! What the hell Henderson? Get your own drink!” Dustin is sitting about a foot too far away from Steve and leans out of his reach with a grin, still clutching the glass in his hands.

The milkshake changes hands to Mike and then to Max and back to Dustin once more, who are all sitting far enough away from Steve that he can’t grab it back. It’s only when it gets back to Dustin that Eddie stands up, leans across the table and pulls the drink from his giggling hands.

“Alright, that’s enough Henderson. Give the man back his gross drink.”

Being reprimanded by Eddie clearly comes as something of a surprise, but Dustin rallies quickly.

“You stole it first!” He yelps, pointing an accusing finger at the metalhead. Eddie places the drink in front of Steve and sits back down coolly.

“Yeah but I wasn’t a butthead about it, dude.”

Eddie is sitting so close that their legs are touching, the fabric of his jeans rubbing against Steve’s bare skin. It’s too warm, too close and honestly kind of scratchy and Steve feels cranky from lack of sleep and would dearly love to just curl up in the booth, preferably with his head in Eddie’s lap, and pass out for an hour. He can’t do that, he can’t do much more than nod thankfully at Eddie as his drink is returned to him and stay silent as Dustin and Eddie continue to bicker. It’s been a long morning, and the afternoon is sure to be much the same, but there’s a swelling feeling of tenderness in his chest as he watches Eddie sticking up for him, even over something as small and insignificant as a strawberry milkshake.

***

With Steve back behind the wheel, they only make one additional stop on the way to their second campsite for that evening. Even Steve has to admit the giant maze is pretty cool. Mazes fields usually aren’t seen around Hawkins until October, this one's still green and bulked out with hay bales, wooden slats and trees planted in strategic places to block pathways. There’s no one else around. An honesty box sits on a low stool by the entrance, next to a basket containing a few lone tomatoes and cucumbers. A large sign perched behind reads:

Chetney’s Corn-MAZEing Corn Maze

-CORNtastic fun for all the family!-

Steve watches Eddie mouth the words as he reads the sign, maniacal glee in his eyes. It’s a bad name, a truly terrible name, but the maze itself is actually fun. Of course, the gang split up and run off in groups the moment they are let loose. Steve can hear them already shouting and laughing as the sound of their rustling footsteps fades away, leaving him and Eddie alone at the entrance.

“After you, Princess.” Eddie bows slightly, gesturing to the gap in the corn.

Alone. With Eddie. The one situation Steve has generally been trying to avoid, or at the very least should be trying to avoid on this trip. But he does want to try the maze, and he likes spending time with Eddie. The whole trip would be a thousand times easier if he could just stop freaking out over even the smallest amount of physical contact or attention from the guy.

The green, rustling walls of the maze close in around him the moment Steve takes a few steps in. It’s almost disconcerting how quiet it becomes, now that the gang seem to have run a considerable distance away. Eddie is by his side immediately, peering around at the three possible paths they can take. Without warning Steve is yanked to the left by the elbow and Eddie is pulling him through the narrow path at a jog.

Despite the absolute confidence with which Eddie conducts himself at every junction and turning, they get lost within ten minutes. When they end up at the same dead end for a second time, recognisable because of a large wooden board at one end reading ‘DEAD END’ Eddie finally pauses, panting. His bandana and sunglasses have slipped dangerously far back on his head, and there’s a faint sheen of sweat on his neck and face. Steve isn’t quite as winded, but massages the arm Eddie has been using to pull him around.

“This doesn’t look like an exit, Eds…” Steve sighs, barely keeping the teasing tone out of his voice. He leans up against the tree behind him and folds his arms. Not for the first time that day Steve seizes the opportunity to just look at Eddie, without anyone else around to call him out on it. The attention isn’t lost on Eddie, who grins lazily at him, still catching his breath and clutching his side slightly.

“…wasn’t looking for an exit, pretty boy.”

Oh.

Steve must have made some kind of dumb face, because Eddie chuckles and speaks again.

“Slow on the uptake today, huh?”

Steve’s mind, previously occupied by mundane worries like getting out of the maze before nightfall, not tripping over a root and breaking his nose, or the RV being stolen in their absence, suddenly tunes back into its usual frequency. A surge of heat puddles in his chest and he barely has time to gather his fractured thoughts before Eddie is leaning into his space, planting hot little kisses against his neck. The cool metal of his rings runs against his upper arms, fingers digging in until Steve unfolds his arms and clasps them around Eddie’s lower back, pulling him in.

All Steve’s hard fought self-control blows away in an instant. It’s so easy to let himself be pushed up against the trunk of the tree, so nice to feel Eddie’s hands sneak up and under his shirt no matter how hot and sticky he feels from the summer heat and the exertions of running around the maze. Eddie doesn’t seem bothered anyway, his entire focus is on kissing his way up Steve’s neck, across his jawline, inching closer to his lips with every kiss. Steve sighs, all the air in his lungs exhaled like he just got a punch to the gut, he’s already got one hand tangled in Eddie’s hair, the other bracing himself against the tree.

What kind of idiot would give up something as good as this for two whole weeks? What an absolute moron to believe himself strong enough to withstand the magnetic pull of desire radiating off of Eddie for even a moment. Steve grunts appreciatively as one of Eddie’s hands is removed from his chest and instead runs roughly through his hair, pulling his head to one side so Eddie can kiss just behind his ear. Maybe they’ll have time, Steve thinks wildly, as the heat that had previously gathered in his chest wends its way further south. Maybe if they get back to the Winnebago before the teens do, they can finish what Eddie is clearly intent on starting, and no one would be any the wiser. Steve would just have to be very careful about not giving Eddie any more visible hickeys, in case one of the more eagle-eyed members of the gang took notice.

“Fucking shorts…” Eddie mumbles against his neck and Steve makes a questioning sound in response, unable to cajole his brain into forming actual words.

“You had to wear these, huh?” Eddie nips, and the hand not currently in Steve’s hair runs down his torso to tug at the belt loop of his jean shorts.

“My…shorts?” Steve manages to ask, Eddie is still lightly gripping his hair, keeping his head in place so he can’t lean forward to kiss the man back, it’s infuriating and tantalising in equal measure.

Steve doesn’t get to find out what is wrong with his shorts, as the sound of rushing feet crashing through the maze nearby snaps them both to attention. Eddie pulls away with a curse, leaving Steve a little slower to react. He manages to readjust his shirt and attempt a casual expression before Max and El come bounding into view, laughing.

“Shit, another dead end?!” Max laughs, barely even acknowledging Eddie and Steve. El gives them both a little wave and they scamper off down a different path.

“Fucking typical…” Steve mutters bitterly, more to himself than to Eddie.

There is a considerable silence that follows the two teens exit, in which Steve fixes his hair as best as he can and tries to quiet his pounding heart. Eddie catches his eye sheepishly, chewing on his lower lip, and Steve wants to scream for all the good it will do.

“Might’ve got a bit carried away…” Eddie admits with a chuckle, fiddling with his bandana.

Steve watches him for a few moments before dropping his gaze to the dusty ground.

“Let’s just find the exit…before the brats try to hotwire the RV.” He scuffs a divot into the ground with the toe of his sneaker as he speaks, the golden warmth from moments earlier already leaking away.

“…yeah, okay.” Eddie replies quietly after a beat, and Steve would like to imagine that he sounds disappointed, because that would make two of them.

It takes a full thirty minutes to finally locate the exit. The teens are all gathered in the shade of the RV when they emerge. Eddie has bits of grass and straw in his hair from tripping on more than one occasion. Steve feels much less frustrated about the whole situation. It’s hard not to feel light and happy after you’ve watched Eddie Munson struggling to extract himself from a corn patch like a turtle stuck on its back. Steve leaves a five dollars in the honesty box before they all get back into the Winnebago.

***

It’s a quiet ride for the final few hours to the second campsite, they arrive later than planned, the last pale rays of sun barely visible on the horizon. The evening follows much the same pattern as the one before. They set up the tents together, then Eddie builds the campfire with the teens whilst Steve cooks. It’s hotdogs that night, and Steve fights back the disappointment when Eddie doesn’t sneak into the Winnebago for a hug whilst he’s working. It’s definitely for the best, as Steve still feels tender from the events of the corn maze, but even still he can’t help but hope. They gather around the campfire with their food a little later, Eddie slathers his own hotdog in both mustard and ketchup and eats faster than everyone else. Steve hastily averts his eyes as Eddie drips sauce down his hand and moves to lick it off.

“Sorry kids, not tonight.” Eddie puts his hands up in mock surrender and the gathered teens whine a chorus of pleading and questions.

“You said you’d tell us one today, c’mon man!” Dustin’s voice carries over the others.

“Yeah, we were talking about it all day. Your stories are the best, Eddie. Please?” Mike tags on, looking more and more like a mini-Eddie Munson with his hair growing out, wearing his hellfire club shirt.

Eddie accepts the compliment with a regal wave of his hand but still shakes his head solemnly.

“Sorry kids. It’s still a no.”

Despite the cries and pleas, Eddie is unmoved and dinner finishes early with El and Max volunteering to wash the dishes at the nearby water station.

“Smoke break.” Eddie explains as Steve gives him a questioning look when he abruptly stands up and moves to leave the campfire area. Steve nods, watching his retreating back for a moment before being pulled back into the hum of conversation.

By the time Max and El return with clean, but dripping wet, plates in their arms, the boys have already started yawning and Steve calls bedtime early. No one puts up much of a fight. Steve douses the fire and sees that all of them are settled into their tents and then retreats inside, bone tired and ready for his own bed.

Eddie is sitting on his pull-out bed, a few notebooks open around him, in a sleeveless t-shirt and boxers. Steve freezes for a second at the sight, but Eddie is scribbling away, headphones on, tongue poking out and doesn’t seem to notice him. He gets ready for bed much slower than the night before, when he’s finally ready to climb into bed he pauses for a second and looks over at Eddie, who is still writing away, nodding his head to music that Steve can hear faintly even across the room.

He taps him on the shoulder and Eddie rips the headphones off, looking up at Steve. The music now louder but still unrecognisable, something with drums and high vocals, Steve swallows.

“I’m going to bed…”

“My bad. I’ll keep the music down.” Eddie says, reaching for his tape player, which is actually Steve’s old tape player that he never used anyway. Eddie’s was lost when the government replaced the old Munson trailer.

“No, it’s fine, I just…” Steve hesitates, teetering on the edge of doing something, but afraid to cross the line. After another pause, he reaches out and pats Eddie on the shoulder again.

“…night, Eds.”

It’s not quite a goodnight kiss, but Steve’s heart is already racing so hard from touching the bare skin of Eddie’s shoulder that he thinks he might pass out. Eddie is silent for far longer than Steve is comfortable with, he balls his trembling hands into fists, panicking that he did something wrong. Eddie sits there, discarded headphones still pumping out muffled vocals and drums, surrounded by books and scraps of paper covered in chicken scratch, he doesn’t look angry or upset. Instead, he stares up at Steve, big, brown eyes wide, mouth slightly open as if mildly shocked, and then, after what feels like an eternity, he smiles. Steve’s heart aches at the sight of it.

“G’night, pretty boy.”

Chapter Text

The gentle scratch of pencil on paper is more effective at sending Steve to sleep than any of the methods he usually uses. He floats for about half an hour in that muted, fuzzy space between waking and sleeping, aware of Eddie still hunched over his notes, and the gentle breeze blowing in through the crack in the window, but it all feels pleasantly distant. Disconnected from him but wrapping around him like a blanket.

When he wakes up it’s still dark outside and he’s desperately thirsty. He’s as quiet as a half-asleep person can be as he gets to his feet, shuffles over to the kitchenette and pours himself a glass of water. There’s something magical that happens to water in the dead of night, like under the light of the moon it becomes the ambrosia of the gods, the most delicious thing ever tasted. Steve gulps down two glasses in quick succession and pours a third, leaning against the counter. Eddie is tangled in his blanket like he’s been sleep wrestling, one arm up and over his face, the other flung out and hanging off the edge of the bed, legs equally askew.

Back during the Vecna ordeal, there had been moments, in the trailer, in the stolen Winnebago, in the Upside Down before they’d parted ways, that Steve had been overwhelmed by a familiar, but oddly alien feeling. At the time, with the world in chaos, his friends and loved ones in mortal peril and his own life inching closer to a messy end, he hadn’t really thought about it too much. He’d pushed it to the back of his mind, something to deal with if they made it out alive. There had been plenty of time during his stint in the hospital to stare up at the ceiling and replay those moments over in his head, to try and piece together what that feeling had been. Now, as he watches Eddie sleep in a position that cannot possibly be comfortable to anyone, that same feeling grows heavy in his chest with all the heat of a burning star. It’s no longer alien or confusing, Steve has worried at the threads of it enough to unravel it completely. He’s absolutely unwilling to put a name to it just yet, but every time he looks at Eddie he feels glimmers of it.

Steve watches him for a minute or so, sipping at his third glass of water, until a movement outside catches his eye.

Max is sat outside by the charred remains of the campfire, hugging her knees. Steve pours a second glass of water and goes out to her, then immediately wishes he had put on a jacket before leaving the Winnebago.

“Can’t sleep?” Steve mutters, sitting down beside her. She nods slightly, taking the proffered glass without a word.

“Wanna talk about it?”

He’s pretty certain that the thing keeping Max up at night is the same thing that keeps most of the rest of them up at night, but Max has never been the kind to open up about those things. She’s been better, since Vecna, since the hospital. It helps that the gang are now hyper vigilant about her, particularly El and Lucas who rarely leave her alone for more than a few minutes. Lucas has been learning to skateboard so she doesn’t go to the skatepark alone, and El begged Hopper to buy her roller skates so she could join them, too. It’s not just the younger teens, Eddie and Max also spent a lot of time in the hospital watching horror movies together, bonding in their own weird way.

“Just a stupid nightmare.” Max finally huffs, burying her face in her knees like she’s ashamed to admit to it.

“Vecna?” Steve guesses. It’s just a name, but the hairs on the back of his neck prickle even as he says it.

Max shakes her head against her knees and that’s…odd? After all the shit she went through in the Upside Down, not having nightmares about the guy seems even more unlikely.

“I get nightmares too. We all do. It’s not weak to have nightmares about any of that stuff, it’s really fucked up. Seriously, it’s crazy fucked up that that stuff even happened, and we can’t tell anyone about it?” Steve rambles, uncomfortable in the silence and desperately trying to say something that might help. “Like there’s this whole other messed up world just hanging out underneath ours and we’re just supposed to be cool about that? I can’t be cool about that, there’s nothing cool about it, it’s insane, it’s terrifying a-and insane and-“

“-Stop, stop. God…it wasn’t about the Upside Down or any of that…it was…” Max’s voice becomes too muffled to understand, Steve strains to catch the tail end of it.

“It was…what?”

Max groans in frustration, lifting her head and glaring at him.

“Billy. It was about Billy…okay?”

It takes him by surprise a bit, because he hasn’t heard the name in a while. For some reason the thought never occurred to him, despite driving Max to his grave on several occasions.

“Oh…”

“Like I said…just a stupid nightmare.”

“…do you wanna-“

“-No. Stop. Stop trying to pull that stupid babysitter crap. I’ll be fine. I just…needed some air.”

Steve sits there in silence, wondering what kind of nightmares could scare Max Mayfield, one of the toughest kids he knows. Billy Hargrove hadn’t been a good person, at least, the Billy that Steve had known hadn’t been a good person, but he was probably a big part of Max’s life growing up. Seeing someone die in front of your eyes is traumatic enough. Watching someone you care about sacrifice themself to save others, in as brutal a way as Billy had done, is a completely different level of trauma.

Eventually Max finishes drinking her water, passes the glass back with a nod, gets to her feet and stalks back to the tent she’s sharing with El. There’s a silent understanding between the two of them, that this never happened, that Max will deny it to her last breath if Steve ever mentions it. That’s fine, Steve is very good at keeping secrets for people, not so good at keeping his own secrets from others.

Eddie is still fast asleep as Steve creeps back inside with two empty glasses and a new realisation of just how fucked up the last few years of all their lives has been.

***

The sky is grey and sullen when Steve wakes up the next morning. Given the season, he hadn’t really expected rain during their trip, but since their only goal that day is to get to the next stopping point on their journey, it’s not too much of a downer. He stretches, puts away his pull-out bed, and takes a lukewarm shower in the campsite washroom. He thinks about Eddie’s shocked smile and the way his lips had curled around the words ‘pretty boy’ the night before. He wallows in disappointment at their interrupted moment in the corn maze, leaning his forehead against the cool tiles of the shower cubicle as if they might give him the strength to hold it together for another day. When the tiles fail him, he shuts the faucet off, gets dressed and trudges back to the Winnebago.

There’s a mug of black coffee and a sleepy but upright Eddie awaiting him upon his return. The sight of Eddie in his PJs, hair mussed, rubbing sleep from his eyes, hits Steve like a sock full of bricks. He’s pretty sure he makes a very undignified noise, somewhere between a grunt and a strangled squeak, and then he has to sit down before his knees give out. He gulps down the scalding drink in an effort to distract himself, but the damage is already done.

“I think I should apologise…about yesterday…in the maze?” Eddie says, Steve hmm’s a question around another mouthful of burning hot liquid, staring at the carpet.

“In my defence, those stupid shorts were making me crazy all day, but…I failed to take into consideration your…uhhh…” He pauses, like he’s trying to find the right word, or can’t bring himself to say what he’s actually thinking. Steve thinks he can probably guess his train of thought, but stays quiet to protect his own pride.

Eventually Eddie huffs a small sigh and continues.

“Didn’t think it through. Typical Munson behaviour, act first, think later…” He trails off with a humourless chuckle. Steve stares into his mug of coffee, quietly working up the courage to speak. There’s a voice in the back of his mind that sounds frighteningly like Robin and it’s yelling at him to talk to Eddie, right now, rip the band aid off and get it over with already. There’s no one else awake, he has time, all he has to do is open his mouth and ask the guy out. He’s asked girls out before, it shouldn’t be hard, he just has to turn to Eddie, look him in the eye, confess how he feels and ask him. The words are stuck in his throat, Eddie is right there, clearly willing to listen, and he can’t get the stupid words out.

“Stevie…? Look, I really am sorry, I uh…I won’t do it again…” Eddie says, voice small and contrite. Steve is looking at him before he remembers why he was avoiding looking in the first place, his stomach twists in knots at the sight. Eddie looks…sad.

“It’s fine, Eds. Nothing to apologise for besides…takes two to tango, right?” Steve says, and then he’s staring at Eddie’s lips like he might be able to bring them closer to his own through telepathy. His gaze travels along bared shoulders and arms, the incredibly low-cut tank top revealing familiar tattoos and dangling guitar pick necklace.

“My eyes are up here, princess.” Eddie chuckles, this time sounding actually amused. Steve wrenches his gaze from Eddie’s crossed legs and the tattoo on his left ankle, guiltily making eye contact once more.

“Sorry…” Steve mumbles, turning back to his coffee mug, a much safer option.

***

They only manage to stop at one attraction before it starts raining. A misshapen, 15ft tall plastic statue of a cowboy next to a similarly wonky looking and laughably small bull statue. El buys a fridge magnet, it’s equally misshapen and lopsided, the bull wildly out of proportion with the man. Steve fills up on gas whilst Eddie holds court with the teens, telling them some wild story about the legendary cowboy the statue is based on. Steve isn’t sure if he’s reciting something from memory, or bullshitting the entire thing, but the gang are enraptured.

The rain persists through lunch and into the afternoon. Eddie, bored of sitting in the passenger seat, starts up an ‘I Spy’ tournament in the back which gets incredibly heated. They run out of normal things to ‘spy’ after the first few rounds, and eventually Eddie is banned from playing anymore as his ‘something beginning with G’ turns out to be ‘gravity’.

“You can’t SEE gravity, Eddie!”

“Maybe you can’t, Wheeler.”

“But it’s not a thing. It has to be a thing.”

“If it’s not a thing, then how am I sitting on this crappy couch instead of floating on the fucking ceiling, huh, Henderson?”

“It’s a concept, not an actual, tangible, object.”

“So you’ll let Will ‘see’ a dragon in his imagination, but gravity is a step too far? Unbelievable. Fine, I can see when I’m not wanted.” Eddie jokes, leaping up from the couch and returning to the front, toppling into the passenger seat.

“At least you’re on my side, Sugar. You’d have let me use Gravity, right?” He huffs, rearranging himself into a more comfortable sitting position, one foot up on the dashboard.

“Don’t drag me into this.” Steve laughs, taking his eyes off the rain-slicked highway to glance at Eddie as he responds.

Eddie pouts, reaching a leg across the divide and nudging Steve in the thigh petulantly.

“You’d have let me use Gravity, right?” He repeats, the nudging continues. “Right?”

“I’m trying to drive here, Eds.” Steve says, still laughing. There’s no way to escape the assault so he moves his hand from the gear stick and grasps Eddie’s ankle, pulling hard enough to yank Eddie a few inches forward in his seat. Unfortunately Eddie is already perched on the edge of the chair in order to reach Steve with his foot and this action sends him crashing to the floor in a heap.

“Holy-Jesus Christ! Fuck!!” Eddie’s pained yelling is punctuated by Steve’s own uncontrollable laughter.

Steve eventually recovers from his laughing fit and Eddie curls up in the passenger seat once more, nursing his bruises. He does apologise, but Eddie waves it away and unhelpfully adds that he ‘likes it rough’, a statement that renders Steve incapable of speech for a good 30 minutes. Despite this, Eddie spends a large portion of the rest of their drive claiming that Steve has done irreparable damage to his ass and that it’ll likely ‘never be the same again’, but he’s sprightly enough when they finally reach their stopping place for the evening.

With no sign of the rain abating any time soon, they drive to the nearest grocery store to restock on a few things and ask for directions to the RV park on the outskirts of the town. The woman behind the counter spots Eddie’s Van Halen shirt and starts gushing about her favourite albums and songs and how many times she’s seen them live. Eddie is equally as enthusiastic to meet someone with similar music taste and Steve is left to pack their shopping into bags on his own, his presence completely ignored.

“Sulking because she liked me more than you, Buttercup?” Eddie teases as they leave the store, knocking into Steve’s shoulder with his own.

“You wish, Munson.”

“My effervescent charm got us a discount, too.” Eddie continues happily, standing so close as they walk that their shoulders keep bumping, sending periodic jolts of static electricity through Steve’s skin. Steve isn’t quite sure what effervescent means, but he’s not about to ask.

***

“A human fighter? That’s the best you could come up with?” Dustin scoffs, Steve looks up from the frankly incomprehensible sheet of paper Eddie gave him a few minutes before. The question, it seems, is not directed at Steve himself, but at Eddie.

“What, you think I’d make a beginner play a magic user or something? You know how hard it was to convince him to even play? He’s a human fighter, deal with it.” Eddie sounds genuinely kind of irritated, though he’s smiling as he speaks. Steve looks back down at the paper. In the top right there are a few boxes detailing ‘race’ ‘class’ ‘background’ and ‘level’ all filled in in pencil, and a box for ‘name’ that is empty.

“You didn’t give me a name.” Steve glances at Eddie and furrows his brow. Seems like a pretty fundamental mistake on Eddie’s part. Eddie’s grin sweetens and he tugs the slightly chewed pencil from behind his ear, holding it out to him.

“That’s your job, big boy.”

Everyone else is watching him expectantly now. He hesitates, looking around and clearing his throat awkwardly. Right, a name. A name for his stupid fantasy game character, he just has to think of a name, shouldn’t be too difficult.

Steve only agreed to play in the first place because he couldn’t deal with both Eddie and Dustin bugging him about it. It had started when they began planning the trip, and Eddie noted that they would have plenty of time to play a decent short campaign along the way, which his hellfire club fanboys had jumped at. Then Mike and Will had gotten El to agree to play and Max had grudgingly joined because she didn’t want to be left out. Which had left Steve, who really only enjoyed watching them play because of Eddie. He obviously cannot explain that to Dustin or the others, though, as they have widely agreed that Steve is secretly desperate to play which is why he comes along to their games and ‘observes’ so often.

In the end, Eddie made a deal that if Steve plays, he will drive the Winnebago for part of the trip, a promise Eddie was so far keeping. There are some other things Eddie also promised that can’t be made good on until they get back to Hawkins, things which had effectively ended all of Steve’s arguments against joining.

“Can’t I just call them Steve?” He sighs, when he can’t think of a single damn name, looking over at Dustin who is sat opposite.

“You can’t just play yourself, it’s a fantasy game, you can be anyone.”

“What if I want to be Steve?”

“No way, what happens if you get him killed? Which, considering how little you know, is a real possibility.”

Steve flounders, it’s bad enough being lectured by Dustin, but Eddie is watching him intently, a sly grin playing across his lips.

“Fine. His name is…” Steve hesitates again, before writing it down in bold capital letters on his sheet. “…Eddie.”

He had expected pushback on this, as well, but then Dustin grins widely, and Will starts laughing.

“Okay. That’s pretty hardcore. Naming your player after the DM? That’s some psychological shit right there.” Dustin says proudly.

“Playing mind games with him, nice!” Mike whoops.

“Okay…” Eddie raises an eyebrow at him but says nothing against it. “Well, now that’s settled, can we begin?”

The boys all nod enthusiastically, El, Max and Steve are slightly less excited, but Eddie takes it as his cue anyway. With a slight pause, followed by a deep breath, Eddie begins to speak in a low, conspiratorial tone, his eyes flickering from one player to the next. Steve’s heart thuds in his ears, but it has nothing to do with the fantasy story.

“After 100 years, the peaceful, prosperous reign of King Theodoric Arno, Light of the Dune-tides, Wielder of the Craven Coat, over the lands of Embermoor, is eking out its final days. As their sovereign lays on his deathbed, you, his closest confidants, gather at his side to hear his last words, for they will spell out the future of your kingdom. Across the mountains to the north, the barbaric Queen Nivra and her hordes of undead mercenaries are primed and ready to attack your peaceful lands the moment King Theodoric breathes his last, in a bid to seize the throne before a successor has been named. You wait with bated breath, the air in the chamber heavy with expectation, as King Theodoric rattles-'' Eddie's voice changes to a reedy old man voice “‘my time is nigh…I feel my life ebbing away…gather closer, my dear friends…for I must impart my last will unto you all…”

Everyone, even Steve, who is having a hard time taking the whole thing seriously, especially Eddie’s old man voice, leans forward a little in their seats, all eyes on Eddie.

He continues, the king beginning to tell a story about a young knight who rescued a beautiful dryad (“what’s a dryad?” “It’s like a woodland fairy” “oh”) the two fell in love and the dryad used her magical abilities to take on the form of a human woman. They spent a year together, and she bore the knight twins, one girl and one boy. But, on the night of the anniversary of their meeting, the dryad disappeared, taking the children with her, leaving the knight alone in their forest home.

“-What does this have to do with anything?” Steve asks, feeling frustrated that the king was wasting his final breaths to read them all a bedtime story. Everyone around him groans in unison.

“The Knight IS the King, duh?!” Dustin hisses across the table. Steve frowns.

“What? How do you know that? Did he say that?”

“Context clues man, were you even listening?” Mike whines.

Eddie is snickering behind his little screen, which makes Steve even more irritated and embarrassed. Will pats his arm gently.

“It’s okay, let’s listen to the rest of the story, yeah?” Will mutters, apologetically.

Steve nods, heat rising in his cheeks. “Sorry, Eds.”

“Not at all, Pumpkin. There are no stupid questions at my table.” Eddie smiles indulgently, though Dustin, Lucas and Mike scoff. Under the table, Steve feels Eddie’s knee bump against his, the contact is so minimal but it still zings right through him like a pinball. He clamps his mouth shut and Eddie picks up where he left off.

“The heartbroken knight searched high and low across the land for his lost love. But never found her, or his children. The love of the dryad had blessed him with unnaturally long life, but eventually he was bound by his family's oaths to succeed his father on the throne. His kingdom prospered and his people were happy, but the knight remained unable to forget his love, and, unable to open his heart to any other. He sent word across the lands in search of her, never giving up hope that one day she and his children would return to him. Finally, after a hundred years of searching-“

Everyone is leaning forward to catch Eddie’s every word, there’s a manic sparkle in his eye that is probably just a light reflection but seems otherworldly and magical. Eddie grins.

“Everyone, roll a perception check.”

They roll, Will assisting Steve in finding the right number to add from his character sheet. No one rolls higher than a 15 and Eddie’s eyes narrow, he pauses for a beat, rolling some dice behind his screen which sets Dustin and Mike off yelling. Apparently Eddie rolling dice is a bad thing, or so Steve learns in that moment.

“The King’s speech is cut off abruptly, as a bloom of deep red spreads across his chest from the arrow now deeply embedded there. You watch as the light fades from his eyes, and he slumps back into the sheets. Stone. Cold. Dead.”

“WHAT?!” “No!!” “What the hell?!” “How?!”

Most of them are yelling now. Even Steve is shocked, and Eddie grins broadly at them all. There’s a few moments of panic, Mike tries to heal the king but fails, El tries also, but fails again. Dustin tries to look for the attacker. Will makes some kind of check and Eddie tells him the arrow was poisoned and the already weakened king could not be revived.

“Are there any windows in…the room?” Steve thinks out loud. He’s sat next to Eddie so it carries over, though others on the table don’t hear it over their own babbling.

“Yeah, to the left and right.” Eddie is smiling at him, positively beaming, Steve’s heart aches and he wrestles against the urge to reach out and pull the man into his arms and never let go.

“I…look out of the window? See if there’s someone with a…a bow or something out there?” The whole thing feels so stupid, if it weren’t for everyone else being so invested, Steve would have just stayed quiet.

“Roll me an investigation check, Princess.”

Will helps locate the number he needs to add and Steve rolls the dice with too many sides that Eddie lent him for the game.

“Uh…22?” Steve says hesitantly, looking down at the dice.

Eddie's eyes widen slightly.

“22? What did you roll on the dice?”

“You said the star means 20, right? I got the star.”

“That’s really good, Steve!” Will enthuses from beside him, Steve is unsure how exactly it’s good, but everyone else seems impressed, so he rolls with it.

“What do I win?” He looks up at Eddie who is leaning over his barrier of books to look at Steve’s dice, he’s perched on his chair now, knees jutting out.

“Well, it beats the DC…so…you- Eddie, see a figure standing on a nearby roof, they’re hooded and holding what looks like a longbow in their hand.” Eddie sighs, tugging at his hair and slumping back into his seat.

“Okay. I…uhh…I mean, that’s the bad guy, right? So I…want to kill him? I think? Is that…good?” He’s looking around the table at everyone else, because he truly has no idea what is going on other than he rolled a dice well and what the hell is a DC?

“Well, let’s see what everyone else wants to do, first.” Will muses, and then there’s several minutes of discussion during which Steve feels Eddie’s hand pat his knee under the table and attempts to not jump through the roof or, heaven forbid, groan appreciatively at the touch. Eddie is likely wholly unaware of how touch-starved Steve has been feeling, the slightest graze of Eddie’s skin against his own is enough to set him off. He doesn’t have the time or self-control to reciprocate, but does chance a longing glance at Eddie whilst everyone else is distracted plotting. Eddie grins back, and Steve is definitely going to explode if he doesn’t get to touch the man soon.

No one else rolls as high as Steve, so apparently they can’t see the figure on the roof, but they agree it’s a good idea to try and kill them. Will points out the weapons Steve’s character has in their possession and then Steve rolls an attack with a crossbow with the help of both Eddie and Will. Eddie states that the figure is far away and slightly covered by the roof of the building, so Steve has to roll twice and use the lower number.

“…18?”

“Guys, I think Steve might actually be good at this.” Dustin states gravely, and Mike nods emphatically. Lucas scoffs and mutters something that sounds a lot like ‘beginners luck’.

“Shit…okay.” Eddie ducks down behind his screen and they hear dice being rolled.

“Sir…Eddie.” He grimaces a little at his own name. “Sworn knight and member of the kings personal guard, you raise your crossbow, take aim out of the window at a figure only you can see. You steel yourself, this is your duty as a knight of the realm, to avenge the assassination of your beloved king. You let loose the bolt, your aim is true, the figure recoils from the hit and falls out of sight below the roofline. Roll your damage, Cupcake.”

Everyone cheers, Steve feels a flush of pride, despite only actually rolling some dice and doing a bit of maths. Steve rolls the 1d10+4 damage and it’s only a 7, but even Dustin and Lucas look pleased. They’re so rowdy that Eddie eventually has to hold up a hand to silence them.

“Then, you see the figure once more, stalking across the rooftop and away from the castle. They are hunched over but their feet are quick, and they are moving towards the edge of the citadel. What do you all do?”

Chaos ensues after this statement, and after informing the rest of the people ‘in game’ about the figure on the roof (a gentle suggestion from Will), Steve is able to sit back and let the gang sort things out for a bit. This is a double blessing, because he really still has no idea what he’s doing, and having Eddie sitting so very close is making his head feel fuzzy.

They decide to follow the injured person, informing some trustworthy people nearby of what has happened to their King. The citadel guards and militia are also called to arms and everyone has to make athletics checks to get across the roofs. Steve is pleased to find that his character is very good at running across roofs, though Will’s is not quite so adept and spends most of his time tripping over his own two feet and almost plummeting to his death.

“Is there something I can do to help Will’s guy? He’s going to kill himself if he carries on like this.” Steve asks, looking across the table at Mike and Dustin as Will rolls a 5 minus 1 for his most recent check.

“Seriously, even Nog is doing better than him.” Max says. Steve knows that Nog is Dustin’s character, because he’s had to listen to the boy talk about him on multiple occasions. Max’s character is apparently some kind of super speedy monk.

“You laugh now, but when we’re in battle, you’ll be begging me for Nog’s help.” Dustin bites back.

“Sure we will…” Max rolls her eyes.

“Sir Eddie is strong, right?” Mike pipes up, looking up at Steve. Steve looks at Will, Will nods.

“You could carry them…” Lucas says, looking a little hesitant.

“But you wouldn’t be able to run as fast, and you’d probably have to roll with disadvantage, right Eddie?”

Eddie is fiddling with his rings, having no need to take part in their team discussion. For the last few minutes his leg has been hooked around Steve's ankle, a warm and incredibly distracting pressure that Steve has been fighting very hard to ignore. He looks up at Mike, blinking slowly as he processes the question he clearly hadn’t been fully listening to. Eventually, Eddie’s eyes turn to Steve.

“You wanna give Will the Wise a piggy-back ride?”

“I mean…if it will stop him from-wait…his character is called Will the Wise?! You said we couldn’t use our own names!” He turns to glare at Dustin, who bursts into peals of laughter, quickly followed by almost everyone else at the table. Eddie’s hand once again finds its way onto Steve’s leg, fingertips digging into his thigh for a fraction of a second, knocking the air out of Steve’s lungs. All the fight goes out of him in an instant, replaced by something completely different and much less suited to playing a fantasy game. He shoots a panicked warning glance in Eddie’s direction that clearly goes ignored, if the responding smirk is anything to go by.

“Will’s been playing as them for ages, it’s too late to change his name now. Besides, you already decided on ‘Sir Eddie’.”

“Wheeler’s right Babycakes, you already wrote it down on your sheet, too.” Eddie shrugs, relinquishing his grasp on Steve’s thigh and steepling his fingers together, propped up on his elbows. “Now, are you going to help your flagging wizard companion, Sir Eddie?”

“C’mon Steve, just pick him up and run with him or we’ll never catch the guy who killed the King.” Lucas sighs.

“Okay, fine. What stupid thing do I need to roll to pick Will up?”

***

They take a break for dinner after a couple of hours, the time having passed a lot faster than Steve had realised. Max helps cook, whilst Will and El get the plates ready and pour everyone drinks. Steve thinks about opening a beer but decides against it, focusing instead on making enough grilled cheese sandwiches to feed a small army.

“Can I get ham in mine, too, Steve?” Dustin calls, still seated at the game table.

“I dunno, can you?” Steve replies, but pulls the ham from the refrigerator anyway. “Alright, how many of you brats want ham?”

They eat at the game table, careful not to drip melted cheese or grease over the map or their character sheets. Whilst Max and El chatter away about California, El full of questions and Max trying her best to answer them, the hellfire club regulars talk theories and plan their next steps in the game. They toss ideas back and forth like the basketball team during a time-out. Steve doesn’t think he’ll ever feel the same enthusiasm they do for it, but he’s surprised to find that he doesn’t hate it as much as he thought he would. It probably helps that Eddie is there, holding court like he was born to do it, and clearly enjoying himself immensely. Steve turns to say something to him and finds that Eddie is already looking at him.

He looks away almost immediately, cheeks hot, suddenly very aware of how many other people are around and how eagle eyed a few of them are. Eddie can see through him, probably always has been able to, but sometimes Eddie is equally as easy to read. The hungry look Steve saw flitting across Eddie’s face for a fraction of a second before he clocked him was the same look Eddie had had the first time Steve kissed him.

Eddie is up on his feet a second a later, pulling a squashed back of Marlboros and a lighter from his jacket pocket with shaking fingers and stumbling around the table towards the front seats. A moment later Steve hears the rattle of a window opening and the faint smell of cigarette smoke accompanied by the increased volume of the continuing downpour outside.

***

They’ve finished eating, washed the dishes and cleaned down the kitchenette by the time Eddie returns from his self-imposed exile. The game continues for another hour and a half, until their party has fought their way through a group of bandits and out of the citadel, into the nearby forest, still following the trail of the person Steve’s character injured.

“You approach the edge of the trees as night begins to fall, hear the creaking of branches, the rustle of leaves, the howl of some far distant wolf. The trail continues into the forest, a droplet of blood on a mossy log, a smear of it across the bark of an old oak tree, deeper and deeper you move through the dense trees and undergrowth…the two moons creep ever higher into the sky and then, through the darkness you hear it…” Eddie is leaning forward, crouched on his chair holding the edge of the table.

“W-What do we hear?” Max asks, breaking the tense silence.

Eddie closes his eyes, smiling gently, like he can see the whole thing playing out in his head.

“You hear music…beautiful, ethereal music coming from deep within the heart of the forest. It fills your hearts with joy and your tired limbs feel weightless and soothed by it.” Eddie hums a soft, melodic tune, Steve’s brain shorts out for a second.

“Music? What kind of music?”

“Can we see anything? Is it a trap?”

“You’ll have to find out next session.” Eddie shrugs, sitting back down with a thud.

There’s a general consensus that they want to continue playing, Max and El agreeing also, but Eddie shuts it down quickly, already dismantling his screen of books, and scooping miniatures and map pieces into little drawstring bags.

“You guys better get your sleeping bags and stuff out...” Steve says as he helps fold the map up, tucking it into one of Eddie’s notebooks.

“Can we have cocoa?” El pipes up, still sitting at the table, but pointing at the rectangular tin sitting on the side in the kitchenette.

“Uhh…sure, if you lot get your sleeping bags out and put the table and chairs away.” Steve responds, already having planned on making cocoa that night but happy to have a bargaining chip.

***

It’s extremely cramped with everyone sleeping inside the Winnebago. The pull-out beds take up too much space so Steve, Eddie and Mike make do with the narrow couches, whilst the floor space is taken up with blankets and cushions and sleeping bags for everyone else. The couch is about as uncomfortable as the bed, but the springs jabbing into Steve’s spine keep his mind off Eddie and the way he’d looked at him earlier, all the casual touches, the stolen glances. They also, unfortunately, keep him wide awake despite the late hour.

The scratching noise starts after the rain finally stops. The first time, Steve figures it’s just one of the kids, or a figment of his sleep-deprived imagination. The second and third time he hears it he brushes it off as well, rolling onto his side to see if the couch feels any better that way. It doesn’t. The fourth time he lies there quietly, intently listening now, because he definitely didn’t imagine it that time. The noise increases, louder than a mouse or a rat, a scritchy-scratchy tapping sound that reminds him awfully of Demobats and creeping tendrils. It’s probably just a racoon, or a very big rat, or a stray cat…he tries to calm his racing heart, even as the scratching increases, almost non-stop now, and much closer than before.

Fuck. He’s going to have to find out. There’s no way he can sleep now, anyway. He reaches for his flashlight as quietly as he can, the nail bat propped up by the Winnebago door. In the darkness he catches sight of Sinclair’s silhouette sitting up in his sleeping bag next to the couch, and knows he can hear it, too.

They slip out of the vehicle together, quietly, Steve with the nail bat, Lucas holding the flashlight. There’s nothing immediately noticeable, the RV park is silent and still. Steve points to the right, and they start a slow, careful loop around the Winnebago, shoulders tensed, heart pounding in his ears. Torchlight illuminates wet asphalt, tufts of weeds, benches in the far distance. Lucas freezes as the scratching picks back up, just before they round the corner to the back of the vehicle, Steve’s hands clench tighter around the bat. He counts down from three before darting around to face whatever it might be. The scratching stops abruptly, the beam of light catching two wide shining eyes staring back at them both. Bright white eyes in a pale, triangular face, black ears, a long rat-like tail. The thing hisses at them and scampers away through the undergrowth.

Steve lets out the breath he’s been holding in as a string of curses, gasping lungfuls of night-time air. He lowers the bat to one side and crouches down, still trying to steady his breathing. Sinclair looks spooked, rooted to the spot, eyes wide.

“Just a fucking possum…” Steve huffs, feeling stupid for worrying so much in the first place.

“Is it…gone?” Lucas whispers, flashlight now illuminating Steve, who squints against the bright light.

“Should be. Saw it run off…”

“I thought maybe…” Lucas continues, voice trembling. Steve nods. Yeah, it’s easy to hear footsteps and think Demogorgon before anything else. Easy to assume the worst because they’ve all had to find ways to live through that very scenario several times. Once the adrenaline has seeped away a little, Steve gets to his feet and pushes Lucas back into the Winnebago. Crisis now averted, the teen settles into sleep quickly, and Steve lies back on the indescribably uncomfortable couch and wonders if he’ll ever stop assuming the worst when it might just be a fucking possum.

Chapter Text

By lunch the next day, Steve is quietly wishing it had been a Demogorgon creeping around the RV that night. His spine is bruised and sore from his makeshift bed, there’s a crick in his neck that no amount of stretching, twisting or pummelling has been able to remove and they get a flat three hours into their drive. It’s one of those days where Steve wishes he’d just stayed asleep frankly.

And then there’s the other thing. Because of course when shit hits the fan it doesn’t pull punches.

Steve knows the basics of how to take care of a car, but Eddie…well apparently Eddie has a whole other set of skills Steve didn’t know about and is currently having a lot of feelings about. Eddie with grease on his fingers and his hair tied back off of his face. Eddie deftly wielding a wrench, loosening each wheel nut with practised ease. It’s a lot to take in. It doesn’t help that it’s also unbearably hot outside. A light breeze keeps kicking up dust off the road, coating the back of Steve’s throat, getting in his eyes.

As Eddie and Lucas deal with removing the flat and Max and El push the spare around towards them, Steve is left to just…observe. It’s not that he doesn’t know how to replace a tyre, he absolutely does, he is vehement in this. He’s taken good care of the Beemer this whole time despite everyone else’s best efforts to destroy it. The offer to help had been given and Eddie had chuckled, patted Steve on the shoulder, and said “I’ll take care of it, Big Boy.” There hadn’t been much pushback to this from Steve himself who had been struck dumb by the proximity and the almost patronising confidence of Eddie’s statement.

Anyway, the point is, Steve is now forced to stand back and watch as Eddie changes the flat out for the spare with Lucas as his eager assistant. He doesn’t actually have to watch, but he’s not about to turn down a front row seat to the ‘Eddie the mechanic’ show.

There are muscles apparent in Eddie’s arms that Steve has only seen before in a few extremely specific situations. Steve is the more muscular of the pair, Eddie leaner and softer around the edges. He was never a sports kid like Steve, after all, doesn’t have years of early morning runs and club practise shaping his entire body since youth. Nevertheless he clearly has muscles enough from playing guitar or rolling dice or whatever else Eddie gets up to, Steve isn’t quite sure what that might be and will not entertain the thought of Eddie doing push-ups or bicep curls for his own safety.

Lucas sets the car jack and Eddie shows him how to use it before taking a step back, pushing his bangs out of his face carelessly. There’s a smudge of dirt on his cheek now and Steve wonders if it’s normal for platonic guy friends to tenderly wipe their guy friends' cheeks clean or if maybe that would be a step too far. Probably at least a little bit too far, right? He’s so intent on considering how anyone else would approach this particular social conundrum that he doesn’t notice the object of his attention speaking to him.

“…you good, Goldilocks?” Eddie grins, and he’s probably said it twice before Steve notices and oh god is he acting suspicious? Have his eyes become heart shaped like in those stupid cartoons?

“Fine…sweating my ass off…” Is that a normal response? God, how did he communicate with Eddie before they were more than friends but less than boyfriends? Does he look flustered? How much is too much eye-contact? Steve’s neck twinges as he panics and he absolutely does not hear what Eddie says in response, deep brown eyes rendering him mute.

There’s a loud creaking sound as the jack continues to winch the RV up slowly but surely and Eddie’s gaze is pulled away for a fraction of a second. Enough for Steve to gulp down a breath of dusty air and commence to choke upon that same breath.

He’s spluttering and gasping when a hand begins to roughly pat him on the back and (oh for fucks sake…) of course it’s Eddie’s hand. He’s the only person close by and Steve must actually be being tortured for some reason.

“Easy…deep breaths…” Eddie mutters under his breath, keeping up a gentle thumping rhythm against Steve’s spine, the reverberations of which are all being redirected to his crotch for reasons unknown even to himself. He might actually be cursed, maybe he died in the Upside Down and this is all some elaborate new kind of hell where Steve just suffers horrific embarrassment and arousal at the same time for all eternity? Was he sent to hell for being too horny?

“Better?” Eddie asks when Steve eventually remembers how to use his lungs like a normal human and straightens up, coughing lightly. He nods, throat raw and dry, teary eyed. Better is relative. Compared to choking on air, he feels mildly improved. Mentally, he isn’t quite so sure. Eddie gives a final affectionate smack to his shoulder and walks briskly back over to Lucas who has finished winching.

The whole ordeal lasts another twenty minutes. Twenty minutes in which Steve wonders just when the hell he regressed into his 15-year-old, puberty-ravaged self. Being horny is something Steve can usually handle. But not this tongue-tied, bumbling, flustered idiot crap he is currently suffering from. The crap he has been having to deal with ever since Eddie Munson strolled into his life, or rather, barrelled into his life brandishing a broken beer bottle, was unbearable. Before Eddie came along Steve Harrington had had Game. Sure he’s been going through a bit of a drought in terms of long-term dating prospects, but he has girls practically lining up to go on dates with him. If he’d figured out the whole bisexuality junk a year or two earlier, he’d probably have guys lining up for dates, too. Steve is sure he used to be charming, even funny. He’d rarely gotten tongue-tied before. He’d been pulling off flirty one-liners since he was 15 but now he can barely string a sentence together.

He's glad when the tyre is changed over and they can finally get back into the Winnebago. It’s probably just the heat and his aching back and lack of sleep that’s making him feel crazy, probably not a worrying withdrawal symptom from lack of physical contact and affection from a certain someone. Steve grabs a glass of water, curls up in the passenger seat and commences to sulk quietly to himself for the next few hours.

***

“You sleeping, Sugartits?”

“Yes.”

“Ah, righto…sorry…”

There’s a pause as Steve waits for the other shoe to drop. It takes almost a minute, a new record.

"Asshole...” Eddie laughs and the corners of Steve’s mouth twitch just a little, too.

“…Need something?”

“I uhh…ran out of smokes…there should be a new carton in my bag somewhere…you mind?”

Steve nods. It’s not like he’s avoiding looking at Eddie, but he doesn’t glance his way as he clambers out of the passenger seat in search of the older man’s duffel bag. He finds it shoved behind some cushions after a bit of rummaging. Has to ask Will to move so he can pull it out from its less-than-ideal storage location. Nothing inside is folded, clothes and towels and toiletries all haphazardly shoved inside and for some reason Steve finds it endearing rather than careless. He shoves a hand inside, feeling around for familiar rectangular packaging, his fingers close around a likely suspect and he tugs it free from the vortex of tangled clothing.

It’s definitely not Marlboros. For a second Steve thinks he’s hallucinating, but that hope fades as soon he turns the familiar box over in his hand. It’s like someone just dropped a 20-pound weight on his diaphragm. A 20-pound weight with ‘condoms’ etched into it. Steve drops the packet back into the duffel as if burned. Quickly moves a few wrinkled t-shirts, a pair of ripped jeans and a hairbrush aside before actually finding the carton of smokes he was sent to retrieve. Mind buzzing, he shoves the bag back into the corner behind the cushions and stumbles back to the front.

“You’re a lifesaver.” Eddie enthuses as Steve drops the carton unceremoniously on his lap.

“Mmm.” Steve responds, slumping into his seat and pulling his knees up to his chest. Eddie is already busy tugging a cigarette from the pack, rolling down his window to let the smoke out. There’s a frantic moment during which Steve thinks he might actually start crying, but he pulls back from the brink and just spends the next hour staring blankly out of the window instead.

***

“You’re awfully quiet today, Angelcakes…” Eddie says, peering up from the pile of metal poles and canvas that will surely become a tent when he can bother to put it together.

It’s mid-afternoon, the campsite they chose for the night is verdant green, surrounded on one side by trees and on the other by a gravel drive down to a clear blue lake with tyre swings and washrooms that might actually have hot running water. The teens decamped from the Winnebago the moment they parked up, grabbing swimsuits and towels and hightailing it down to the water, leaving Eddie and Steve to set up their tents and make dinner. Steve has put one tent up already and is finishing the second with all the efficiency of someone who is desperate to distract themselves with physical labour. Eddie is crouched in a pile of tent-parts, half-heartedly fitting bits of metal tube together.

“Hmmm?” Steve responds, looking around for the tent pins he had five seconds ago but misplaced the moment Eddie spoke.

“Y’know, subdued? Taciturn? Reticent? Any of these ringing a bell?” Eddie pushes, sounding like he swallowed a damn thesaurus. He’s looking backwards to stare at Steve upside-down now, hair falling all around, bangs lifting to reveal eyebrows scrunched in concern.

“I’m fine.” Steve sighs, placing the first tent pin, hitting it with more force than probably necessary.

“Oh, you’re fine alright, Big Boy.” Eddie grins, Steve bites back a groan though the heat rises in his cheeks slightly. “What I wanna know is what’s got you stuck in a funk.”

“Nothing.” The second and third tent pins are hammered into place with equal force. Steve grips the mallet a little harder, focusing on placing the final tent pin. A warm weight settles on his shoulder and he actually does jump at it this time, bodily jolting away from the touch, the metal skittering out of his hand.

“Shit…” Eddie takes a step backwards, too, still reaching out. “My bad, didn’t mean to scare you.” The hand is shoved into his pocket and for a silent moment Steve focuses on finding the tent pin he dropped and hammering it in place. Eddie watches in silence, hovering at his side like a worried parent.

“Is your back still hurting?” Eddie asks ten minutes later as Steve fits together the frame of the third tent that was actually Eddie’s job to build in the first place. Eddie has taken on the task of ‘passing things’ which means he just sort of holds up different bits of the tent occasionally and Steve silently takes whichever piece he needs. Anything not needed by Steve becomes Eddie’s new plaything to fidget with.

“Huh?”

“Your back, sleeping on the couch really did a number on you, right? Is that it?”

It takes a moment for Steve to realise that Eddie is still trying to figure out why he’s been quiet. Takes another moment to remember that once Eddie gets focused on something he has a hard time getting his mind off of it, just like Nancy when she senses a story. He won’t hear the end of it, the questions will never end.

“Mmhh.” Steve replies with an absentminded nod, and it’s partly true, at least. His back still aches and the crick in his neck still hasn’t gone away, he’s also working on about two hours sleep. All of this would be bad enough on its own, but he can’t bring himself to broach the actual issue that’s grinding at his nerves.

“Want a massage?”

The tentpole slips from Steve’s fingers and lands with a resounding clang. Eddie laughs.

“W-What?”

“A massage. Not to brag or anything but a little birdie once told me that I have very talented hands…” Eddie wiggles his fingers in the air with a grin. Steve feels like someone just dunked a bucket of ice water over him, but like, in a sexy way. When he says nothing in response, Eddie continues to push.

“C’mon, it’s gotta be worth a try, right? No funny business, just a massage…scouts honour.” Eddie puts up two fingers in a mock salute and Steve should really fucking know better. He was the ‘little birdie’ who had praised Eddie’s hands. The massage back then had certainly been pleasant, but what followed after would definitely fall directly into the category of ‘funny business’. In fact there were several ‘funny’ moments during the massage as well if Steve recalls correctly.

“The gang…” Steve hesitates, glancing down towards the lake in the distance.

“They’ll be gone for ages yet, it won’t take that long…”

“But…”

“I can behave myself. Just a massage. Promise.”

Steve is agreeing before he actually processes just what he’s agreeing to. Eddie jumps up from his nest of tent parts excitedly.

“Great! I’ll go and prepare the parlour, then.”

The fleeting thought occurs that maybe this was all an elaborate scheme of Eddie’s to get out of helping set up the tents. It doesn’t really matter, Steve was doing most of the work by himself already, the lack of someone handing him random items is hardly a major loss in the grand scheme of things. Steve gets back to slotting the tent frame into the canvas covering, keeping his mind occupied with work instead of panicking about Eddie’s schemes.

***

“Took you long enough. Wanna lock the door, just in case?”

Eddie has pulled out one of the beds and tied his hair back. Steve nods, reaching behind himself to twist the lock into place. The back of Eddie’s neck has no business looking as good as it does, the three hickeys have now faded to a pale ruddy brown, the edges slightly yellow. Steve’s handiwork almost lost to time.

“Had to finish putting up the tent.” He says, toeing off his sneakers and reaching for the hem of his shirt.

“No funny business, right?” He asks, already half-way out of his t-shirt. It’s a hot day, and the idea of Eddie trying to massage him through the tight cotton fabric is unbearable. It’s been irritating the scar on his abdomen all day anyway, too tight against his stomach. It is his old gym shirt after all, he’s probably grown a bit since his mother bought it for him, should really get rid of the thing.

“On my honour. I run a highly reputable business I’ll have you know.” Eddie removes his rings and cracks his knuckles as he speaks, pointedly looking away as Steve climbs awkwardly onto the bed and lies face down.

True to his word, Eddie’s hands are meticulous and focused on only massaging the tension from Steve’s shoulders and back. This would be wonderful, if Steve could relax enough to reap any benefits from it. A few minutes pass in silence, only the occasional creak of the bed breaking the stalemate. It’s Eddie who speaks first, likely because he cannot bear it any longer.

“How’re you feeling, Stevie?” He asks, thumbs gently working at a knot in Steve’s shoulder.

“Mhh...” The current position of Steve’s face isn’t really conducive to conversation, he turns his head to the side, away from Eddie. “Tired.”

“Want me to stop? You could have a nap instead…” Eddie’s hands pause for a moment.

“Nah…feels good. Don’t stop.” That’s definitely the wrong combination of words. Steve’s cheeks flush.

Eddie huffs a laugh but his fingers return to their work, finding all the areas that ache and twinge and gently kneading them better.

“Who taught you about cars?” Steve asks a few moments later, because if he doesn’t distract himself somehow he will absolutely pop a boner, is already toeing a very fine line.

“Told you before right? My dad taught me how to hotwire cars when I was kid-“

“-he taught you how to change tires and stuff, too?”

“Oh, no no, that was Wayne. Soon as I got my licence he was on at me about how expensive mechanics are and how I’d have to learn to fix shit myself. When I got the van he had me changing oil and fixing fan belts and crap every weekend.”

“Didn’t know you were into cars.”

“I’m not. Not like Mr. Framed-photo-of-a-car-on-my-bedroom-wall over here, anyway.” Eddie teases, the tension in Steve’s shoulders lessens slightly as they fall into easy conversation. Easy enough to almost forget how pleasant Eddie’s hands feel against his bare skin. Almost. Not quite. His skin feels fuzzy and hot wherever Eddie’s fingers touch, like the beginnings of a storm gathering in.

“Yeah, yeah. I took it down after you wouldn’t stop laughing about it.” He’d taken it down after Eddie spent the night for the first time, pushed it to the back of his closet. He’d yet to find something to replace it with, had been considering redecorating his whole room, Eddie had been merciless in his teasing.

“It was awful and you know it.” Eddie laughs, Steve’s heart thrums in his chest. “Well…for the record, since you’re so curious all of a sudden, I don’t like cars. I do like knowing how things work though, knowing how to fix shit and make shit is kinda important when you live in a crappy trailer with no money for real repairs.”

“No wonder you did so good in shop class…” Steve hums without really thinking. Eddie digs his fingers in a little harder than before and he grunts in confusion.

“Thought you didn’t remember me from school?” Is the reply, and, yeah, Steve definitely remembers saying something like that.

“Didn’t…just remembered now.” It’s a small lie, entirely to avoid explaining that he may have had a crush on Eddie when they were in the same year at Hawkins High. This truth, Steve is determined, will go with him to his grave. He’d rather Eddie didn’t remember what Steve Harrington had been like back then.

“Only classes I got above a D in were shop and art.” Eddie’s hands resume their work, Steve breathes a small sigh of relief.

“So you could be a mechanic, a carpenter…or an artist?”

“If the band doesn’t work out, yeah...” There’s a lull whilst Eddie rolls his knuckles into Steve’s spine, releasing two satisfying cracking sounds as he moves further down.

“Eds…” Steve hesitates, he can feel the word bile growing in the back of his throat and if he doesn’t ask about it he’ll just torment himself with what if’s for the rest of the trip.

“Hmm?”

“You uh…you packed condoms?” There is probably a better, clearer way to say it, to ask it, but Steve can’t think of one right at this moment, not with Eddie’s palms pressing down hard onto his hips. The weight lifts as Eddie stops massaging.

“Why? Think we might need some, Pretty Boy?” Eddie purrs into Steve’s ear and a shiver travels all the way down his spine, like a row of dominoes falling one by one.

“Ah, no…shit. I-I didn’t, I meant…” Steve sits up, pulling a nearby pillow into his lap reflexively, as if hiding his crotch will do anything to diffuse the tension already built up there. Eddie takes a step back, looking curious.

“I just…I didn’t bring any, because…well, I figured…”

“Winnebago full of kids isn’t exactly great for setting the mood, yeah…” Eddie’s tone is so casual they might as well have been shooting the shit about the weather or sports scores.

“But you…brought some.” Steve would like to do anything in the world other than have this conversation. He’d take a couple of rounds against a Demodog over this any day. He’s painfully aware of his bare chest and the way Eddie is looking at anything but him right now, eyes currently trailing over the disgusting floral curtains covering the windows.

“Safety first, right?” He shrugs, like it’s really not a big deal, like Steve is the one being weird for asking about it. Of course Eddie brought condoms, he probably brought lube as well, probably packed a bunch of stuff Steve doesn’t want to know about. Eddie is, after all, a free agent. There are sure to be plenty of attractive, interested people at the Metal Festival, it’s a good thing that he’s brought protection.

“Right…yeah.” Steve pushes the horrible bitter mass of directionless jealousy building in his gut down. “’course. Safety first…”

A lopsided silence follows Steve’s reply. Eddie fidgets with his watch, a watch that has been broken for months but that he still inexplicably keeps wearing.

“I, uh…” Steve begins, just as Eddie also starts “-Do you…“

They both freeze, both apologise, and the silence is broken but it’s no less awkward than it had been a moment before. Eddie licks his lips, staring into the middle distance, fidgeting with his hair for a moment, and then his watch, and then the chain on his belt. Once again the word vomit bubbles in Steve’s chest. Robin’s voice yelling in his head to just bite the fucking bullet and stop being such a coward.

“Ah shit…” Eddie sighs, still staring out of the window. “Playtime’s over Stevie boy, the rugrats are back.”

***

Sir Eddie is having a rough time in the woodland grove. He’s been knocked down twice so far during their combat and is teetering on the edge once more at 2HP with three creatures still surrounding him. He’s not sure what they are, Eddie definitely spent a lot of time describing them and Steve had spent the entire time staring blankly at the window behind him, not absorbing even one iota of relevant information. All he knows is they are truly kicking his characters’ ass right now. Dustin gets more enraged each time Steve tries and fails to hit.

“You’re a fighter!! You’re supposed to be good at fighting! This is the one thing you’re supposed to be good at, why are you sucking so bad?!” Dustin wails, banging his fist on the table as Steve rolls another 2.

Eddie grimaces and leans over his screen to fix a few miniatures Dustin’s tantrum knocked over. Steve groans.

“That dice is cursed.” Lucas huffs and Steve has to admit he’s starting to think the same.

“That’s an…” Eddie rolls something and counts on his fingers for a moment. “18 to hit?” He looks up at Steve, at least he has the decency to look slightly apologetic about it. Steve nods, the one thing he has memorised from his character sheet is his character’s armour class.

“Steve’s dumb fighter is down again?!” Mike yelps as Sir Eddie is hit for 5 points of bludgeoning damage.

“I have zero healing points.” El pipes up matter-of-factly.

“I could heal but I’m grappled by the Vine Blight.” Mike says, glowering at Steve like it’s his fault the entire population of the forest is out for his character's blood. Steve doesn’t think it’s fair, he was the only one to suggest that following the sound of music deeper into the forest might be a bad idea.

“Don’t bother, just leave him down. He’s rolling like shit anyway.” Dustin groans, staring at the encounter map dejectedly.

“Gee, thanks, Henderson.” Steve retorts. At least if his character dies he can go get a beer, or maybe even cajole Eddie into giving him a joint.

Max manages to kill one of the stronger creatures on her round, rolling a sorely needed critical hit. El follows by also taking down an enemy that was already injured and then she moves over to help Mike’s paladin. The remaining creatures, with their leader dead, flee the clearing and Will calls for timeout to consider their next steps. Eddie agrees and Steve is up and away from the table in two long strides. He pulls a beer out of the refrigerator, cracking it open as he heads outside to get some fresh air.

Distracting himself with nerdy fantasy games isn’t working as he’d hoped it might. The only thing that’s been running through Steve’s mind is the thought of Eddie using those condoms with anyone other than him. The ball of pent-up frustration and jealousy lingering in Steve’s chest has grown exponentially throughout the day. The massage had helped, though he’d had to kick Eddie out of the RV for ten minutes or so afterwards to deal with the aftermath in private. But it’s like acid reflux, the more he tries to keep it down the more it stings in his chest. Unbidden, unwanted, vague images of Eddie in the arms of other guys keep floating into his mind. A skinhead punk one moment then next a willowy hippie, a goth in leather and chains. Eddie panting against them, sweaty and sated in some cramped tent or the junk filled back of a van somewhere. He can’t focus on the game, can’t bring himself to give a crap if his made-up character dies or doesn’t die, it’d just be one more shitty thing on top of everything else at this point. Besides, Eddie has already told him he’ll make him a new character if this one croaks, it’s not a big deal.

Dustin finds him ten minutes later, pacing up and down kicking the grass irritably. The beer is gone. He’d like another, maybe the whole six-pack, and a joint to smoke, but that would involve speaking to Eddie. Eddie, who he wants to kiss so badly it aches to look at him. Eddie who brought condoms on their ‘family friendly’ road trip. Eddie who isn’t his boyfriend.

“We’re starting…” Dustin says, and then, chidingly “…you gotta lighten up Steve. It’s just a game.” As if he hadn’t been the most emotional person at the table the entire time. Steve follows him silently back into the Winnebago, back to the table to continue where they left off.

By the end of the session they find their way into a strange woodland village. It’s inhabited by all kinds of weird creatures whose names Steve didn’t even have time to process before he’d forgotten. Sir Eddie drinks some mysterious sap from a magical tree which both heals him and allows him to level up, something Eddie assures Steve he’ll take care of before the next game. It’s definitely done out of pity. An unspoken apology for what Sir Eddie went through during the session, but Steve just nods and hands over his character sheet without a word. Eddie’s brow creases for a beat but recovers almost instantly, carefully putting away the miniatures and maps as the gang scoop up their notebooks and pencils.

***

After dinner, Eddie pulls out his guitar. The teens give requests and Eddie plays most of them, though without an amp it’s a bit difficult to hear unless you’re sitting close enough. Steve hangs back, mind still roiling with too many emotions and not enough sleep.

“You’re staring.” Max hums, dropping in the space next to Steve and crossing her legs.

Steve frowns, he’s been doing it a lot, is starting to think he should invest in wrinkle cream early, if this is what his future holds.

“You’re staring at Eddie.” Max clarifies, speaking close enough and quietly enough to not be overheard. It’s said in such a singsong, smug tone that Steve is immediately robbed of any hope he had had that Max didn’t know about his nightly visits to Castle Munson.

“You…?” It’s a foregone conclusion, he already knows, but he can’t help it. Why is it so much easier to keep things under wraps in Hawkins than it’s turning out to be on the road? Must the world and its wife know that Steve Harrington and Eddie Munson are hooking up?

Across the campfire Eddie is strumming out something that might be ‘Billie Jean’, humming along but not quite singing. He catches Steve’s eye for a second, the smoke of the fire making his expression unreadable, Steve’s breath catches in his throat for a beat.

“You’re like, the least subtle person in the world, Dingus.” Max says, snapping him out of his daze with a punch to the shoulder. “It’s cool. By the way.” She adds, even quieter than before. “Y’know, the whole…liking guys thing.”

Steve loops an arm around her shoulders, pulling her in and ruffling her hair. She squawks and bats him away but she’s laughing all the while.

“I’ll try to stop…staring.” He eventually says, as quietly as he can manage, when the laughing has subsided. The rush of happiness at being accepted by Max is short-lived, it’s obvious she’s drawn her own conclusions about what’s going on between them. Steve doesn’t have the heart to tell her she’s wrong, just like he doesn’t have the guts to have that conversation with Eddie yet.

When Eddie gets bored of playing the guitar, he settles down to tell his long-awaited ghost story, and Max leaves Steve to get a front-row seat to what is sure to be a nightmare-inducing tale. After a few minutes of tense storytelling, Steve can no longer focus on what’s being said. He’s struggling to keep his eyes open, honestly. As Eddie begins to describe one of the characters having to saw their own leg off in excruciating beat-by-beat detail, Steve calls it a night and retreats to the silence of the Winnebago.

***

“Absolutely not.” Eddie says, looking up at the dilapidated exterior of the building.

“C’mon! It’ll be fun!” Dustin needles, tugging at Eddie’s resolutely crossed arms. Steve hovers nearby, the rest of the party watching beside him.

“No. No way in hell Henderson. I’m not going in there.” Eddie shakes his head aggressively, taking a few steps back as he does so, Dustin continues to pull at his arms.

It takes another twenty minutes of cajoling from the entire group, but Eddie eventually relents. He looks bitter as all hell about it, hunching in on himself as if making his body smaller will make the experience less unpleasant. Dustin crows victorious and the rest of the party all head towards the ticket booth, Steve and Eddie bringing up the rear.

It was Dustin’s idea to stop at the haunted house attraction. He and Lucas had been pouring over that stupid map as they sped down the deserted highway, the last day of travel before meeting up with Jonathan, Nancy and Argyle. The others had all agreed that it sounded fun, Eddie’s scary stories the night before still working their magic. Eddie himself had been silent during the discussion, which everyone took as approval. Steve had realised too late that Eddie had had his headphones on the entire time.

“It won’t be that bad, Eds.” He tries, breaching the three-foot divide between them, gravitating closer, close enough to see the genuine apprehension on Eddie’s face.

“I’m gonna kill Henderson after this.” Eddie mutters through gritted teeth and Steve isn’t quite sure if he’s joking.

***

Steve should have sensed something was up before they even stepped through the entrance. Dustin, Lucas and Mike had been whispering together outside, glancing at Eddie and Steve every few seconds. He really should have known better, should have seen the fucking signs and put his foot down way sooner. He didn’t.

They all stick together for the first section, huddled in a group with Eddie at its heart, everyone on alert. Even in the dark Steve can tell that the décor is way overdone, piles and piles of obviously fake bones, skeletons and dismembered body parts piled up in sections and hanging from the walls, tattered fabric trailing down from the rafters. Somewhere, a record is churning out disembodied moans and screeches over a backing track of clanking chains and whistling wind. None of the kids are phased, they move through the room, peering around in the gloom for the path. They’re halfway through the first room safely, no monsters jumping out or anything. Steve is totally unphased, more worried about someone tripping on something in the dark than anything else. Then a high-pitched cackle plays out suddenly as they pass a couple of hanging dolls and a green light illuminates the witchy figures from below. Eddie yelps and stumbles backwards into Steve. Seemingly on cue, the gang all turn to look at each other, nod in unison and pelt towards the next room before Steve can do anything to stop them.

“Those little SHITS!” Eddie yells after the kids have fully disappeared, sounding genuinely pissed off.

“Should have fucking know…” Steve mutters, he’s going to have a serious talk with Henderson after this.

Eddie takes a couple of deep breaths and turns towards him, face bathed in the green light from the hanging witch dolls. They stare at each other, the spooky Halloween moans and clanking chains and stupid decorations all falling away into insignificance. Steve moves forward on impulse, the impulse to snog the face off of the man standing in front of him, and Eddie just stares right back at him, mouth slightly parted. He gets so close he can see the faint stubble on Eddie’s upper lip, puts a hand on Eddie’s cheek. Eddie leans in, because he always does, because Steve knows the look in Eddie’s eyes, it pulls at his insides. They’ve both had a restless, pent-up energy inside of them since the morning. An energy they’d usually fuck out of each other. There are plenty of dark corners in a haunted house, Steve really isn’t feeling fussy.

A high-pitched scream rings out, shattering the tension like a brick through a window. Eddie jumps backwards cursing loudly, bumping into a pile of plastic skulls, sending a few tumbling to the ground.

“Fuck this.” Steve growls, grabbing Eddie’s arm and pulling him along, back towards the entrance of the room. Eddie doesn’t argue, stumbling along behind him without a word, grabbing his belt-loop to keep them together. He’ll lock the doors to the trailer, close all the curtains, blast music from the stereo and if the kids get back before they’re finished he will damn well make them wait outside until they’re finished.

“You can’t exit this way.” A bored voice crackles over the intercom. Steve’s blood runs cold, Eddie is pressed against his back, listening in, shaking slightly.

“What? But the door is right there. Can’t you just let us out?”

“Against the rules. You want out, you have to go through the house.” The intercom buzzes and clicks off. Steve is seconds away from punching something, Eddie’s hand is vice-like around his wrist.

“Shit…” Steve huffs, taking a step away from the intercom. “GOD FUCKING DAMNIT!” He adds, louder and directed at the ceiling. He turns to Eddie, who looks out at the room, then back to Steve, then back to the room with a pained expression.

“I guess…Mordor it is?” Steve grimaces, pointing out towards the room then running his hand through his hair. The reference earns him a flicker of a grin from Eddie.

“Doesn’t look like we have any other choice...” Eddie says, but he’s still shaking and hasn’t relinquished his hold on Steve’s wrist, he’s chewing the thumb of his other hand.

“Stick close, alright?”

“Like fucking glue, Pretty Boy. You’re my ticket out of this hellhole.”

Chapter Text

Steve looks back at the entrance door, there’s no handle on the inside which he thinks is probably a huge fire hazard. All hope of a rapid exit shatters along with all hope of getting into Eddie’s pants any time soon. It takes several minutes to settle his fizzing veins, exacerbated all the more by Eddie clinging to his arm, and then turn back to face the room with a new resolve. Now prepared for the witch scare, Steve pulls Eddie along beside him quickly. Once again the green lamp flickers to life and the ominous cackle fills the air and this time Eddie winces slightly but doesn’t jump out of his skin like before. Steve pushes on, not giving Eddie time to panic or look too hard at any of the decorations.

The next section is just a rat-run maze of pitch-black narrow hallways. The quiet settles over them like a shroud. It’s no use waiting for their eyes to adjust, the whole place is a blackout. The only scant illumination is a faint glow from far off in the middle distance. It’s clear from the moment they step inside that Eddie hates everything about this section. Steve can feel his nails digging into his wrist occasionally, feel the pull of him twisting and turning throughout, desperate to see something, anything at all. He gives up all pretence of playing it cool, there’s really no point, they’re completely alone in the pitch dark, after all. With one smooth motion he removes Eddie’s clawing hand from his wrist and loops his freed arm around, pulling his nervous companion into his side by the waist. Eddie’s face knocks into his shoulder and then he’s got both arms around Steve’s middle like he’s the only thing tethering him to the earth.

“…watch the scars, Eds.” He inhales sharply as Eddie attempts to cut off the circulation to his legs, bracelets and rings scraping harshly against Steve’s sensitive abdomen.

Eddie apologises shakily, adjusting his grip. For some reason it all feels wildly more intimate than the massage the day before. Like Steve can’t breathe properly because every time he does he gets a nose-full of whatever bargain bin shampoo Eddie uses, can feel Eddie’s cheek on his shoulder and if he just twists his head to the left slightly he could probably steal a kiss or two. Perhaps Dustin was onto something, leaving the two of them alone in the attraction, though the little twerp is still overdue an ass kicking. He doesn’t attempt a kiss, though he sorely wants to, mostly because any sudden movement will likely send Eddie into fight or flight mode and Steve isn’t sure which would be worse. He certainly doesn’t want an elbow in the face or a punch to the gut and he’d really rather not have to chase a screaming Eddie through the whole fucking haunted house just to make sure he doesn’t slam into a door frame or something.

“You’re like, really scared, huh?” Steve asks, as he feels along the wall for the path. Whoever designed this place spent a frankly insane amount of cash on thick black fabric. It’s draped over the walls, the ceiling, hanging down and brushing against Steve’s face as he walks. It’s more annoying than scary, navigating each unexpected turn or dead-end with Eddie the Limpet at his side isn’t easy. Steve’s heart is currently beating out a samba in his chest, Eddie keeps fiddling with the hem of his t-shirt.

“Oh no Superman, I’m having a fucking conniption for fun.” Eddie hisses bitterly, still tucked into Steve’s side, shuffling along beside him, jumping at everything and nothing. Steve doesn’t know what a conniption is, but it doesn’t sound pleasant.

“I thought you loved scary shit? You watch The Exorcist to relax, Eds.”

“The Exorcist isn’t real, Hot Stuff.”

“This place isn’t real either…it’s just a bunch of bad set dressing and sound effects.” Steve huffs. Eddie doesn’t respond.

The end of the hall comes into sight and Steve picks up speed a little. There’s a flight of rickety metal stairs, drenched in dusty fake cobwebs and faded plastic spiders. The stairs themselves are smeared with red marks like some gruesome murder took place on them (or someone tipped a bucket of paint down them). The stairs are…tricky. Eddie seems reluctant to let go of Steve now that he’s attached himself, and Steve eventually has to climb up them sideways, his back against the wall. Eddie whines about all the spiders and how he’s definitely going to die here and how he wants out of this fucking place and Steve bitterly agrees with him on that last point. Then he thinks about it for a moment, as he navigates around a dangling beheaded mannequin halfway up. It’s not so bad, actually, the haunted attraction, with its conspiratorial darkness and the close comfort of a warm body against his own. Steve might actually be quite happy to stay for a bit longer in its clandestine walls. Away from the world, with a pretty brunette on his hip.

The next room is full of clowns.

“Oh fuck. No. Nononono…” Eddie mutters under his breath and Steve is inclined to agree. The arms around his wait tighten and he doesn’t complain this time, at some point his t-shirt has ridden up (probably as he navigated the stairs) and now Eddie’s hands are clasped above his hip bone and his arm is pressed against the small of his back and it’s very hard to feel scared of anything much at all. Except the clown room. The clown room is extremely bad.

Eddie has his eyes tight shut as Steve steps carefully around chairs, tables and wall to floor shelves piled with all kinds of clown paraphernalia. Puppets, dolls, mannequins dressed in orange wigs with faded, chipped, clown makeup. Posters, wall hangings, kids blankets, there isn’t an inch of the room that doesn’t have a clown face looming out of it. Then a tape clicks to life and jaunty accordion music blares out all around, mixed with creepy child-like laughter and the occasional squeaking horn. Steve picks up the pace at this point, finding the exit and jogging towards it. Anything to get away from this nightmare of a room.

The following three rooms are also themed, one a dilapidated hospital room, one a dungeon with plastic chains and torture implements hanging from the ceiling, ghostly moans and cries of pain playing out. A few unlucky dolls hang from manacles or stretch across a makeshift rack in one corner. The third looks like a crypt. Fake coffins line either side of the path they have to follow, desiccated flowers and discordant organ music fill the space. Steve is pretty certain at least one of the coffin lids will fly open as they pass it. Eddie, though tucked safely into Steve’s side, still whimpers and yells whenever the fear grips him, which is…a lot of the time. Far from finding it annoying or ridiculous, however, Steve is fighting back the urge to tell the guy how god damn adorable he’s being. He’s forgiven Dustin already, the gift of scaredy-cat Eddie Munson clinging to him more than enough to remove any ill will towards the meddling teen.

“It’ll only be worse if we go slowly.” Steve says, standing at the doorway of the crypt room. The organ music is occasionally punctuated with groaning zombie sounds or vampiric laughter. Every time the laughter suddenly cuts in, Eddie whimpers slightly. Steve wants to kiss him so bad he’s starting to feel woozy from it.

Steve decides to just make a dash for it, pulling Eddie along with him. They barrel through the crypt room and out to the hallway beyond, continuing at a faster pace than before. There’s another flight of stairs up, a creepy attic space with rocking horses and tinny music-box music playing alongside the echoing laughter of children. Another set of stairs later and they’re finally back to ground level, another pitch-black corridor, Steve groping around blindly to find the right path. Eddie is breathing in gasps, Steve can feel the heat and moisture of it against his neck, making his skin tingle.

The next moment Eddie yelps and jumps in shock as they turn a corner and a red lamp stutters to life, illuminating the corridor ahead. There’s a figure at the end of it, which Steve is certain is a mannequin or doll or maybe even just a cardboard cut-out, but Eddie digs his heels in and refuses to move even an inch closer to it. Steve struggles for a moment, trying to pull the older man forwards but Eddie is immovable.

“You’re killing me Eds. Why’d you agree to come in here in the first place if you’re this scared? We could have stayed in the Winnebago and left the kids to it.” Steve sighs, as they continue to stand at the end of the corridor, facing the distant, unmoving figure.

Eddie shoots him a bitter look, biting down on his bottom lip, face contorted in frustration and fear until it seems to boil over. The responding rant is a pitched whisper, but it still echoes around them in the gloom.

“Didn’t want to come in the fucking first place. Told Henderson ‘no’ enough goddamn times but would he listen? Of course not, that little shit just couldn’t give it a fucking rest, and then he starts spouting this crap about how he thinks you and me are having a fight or some shit and how he just wants his ‘older male role models’ to get along with each other and how we’re both so important to him and I thought we were fine but then I started thinking maybe Henderson picked up on something I missed and then Max started calling me a wimp and that fucking hurt man, that was a dig to my already paper-thin pride, so of course I caved and agreed to this fucking nightmare and then those little assholes Parent Trapped us and-“

“-Henderson said that?”

“Said what?” Eddie frowns, thrown off-kilter by the sudden interruption.

“That we had a fight…he said that?” Steve asks again.

Eddie’s frown only deepens, now coupled with a slight pout. Steve feels the tug of Eddie’s arms almost pulling out of their embrace and holds onto him marginally tighter in response. He’s still not had enough physical contact to make up for the past few days, Eddie doesn’t seem bothered. He doesn’t mention it either, which Steve is incredibly grateful for.

“Yeah, fucker cornered me in the shower block this morning and practically begged me to apologise to you.” This comes out slightly bitter, Steve doesn’t know what to say in response. Just stares blankly at Eddie, incredulous. Maybe it’s the shock but he’s almost able to forget how close their faces are.

“What…what did he want you to apologise for?” He finally manages to chew out, having to look away from Eddie’s face to do so. Words tend to get jumbled when those big eyes are watching him.

“Fucked if I know, man. Little drama Queen had a bee in his bonnet about D&D last night, and how you went to bed early…I mean you have been a grumpy bitch lately, but I figured you were just missing Robs or some shit.” This last is said in a rushed hiss of breath and Steve’s heart thuds uncomfortably in his ears. Of course Eddie has noticed how weird he’s been acting.

“Well…that or not having sex for four days is making you all moody and sensitive.” Eddie grins, like it’s a funny joke and not a perfect shot aimed at Steve’s increasingly fragile self-confidence. Steve is blindsided. It’s like someone thwacked him in the head with a blunt object. They never talk about it, after all. In fact Steve isn’t sure he’s ever heard Eddie say the word ‘sex’ before, even during the act. Now he’s not sure he’ll ever get the sound of it out of his head.

Eddie’s eyes widen the longer the silence stretches on. The longer Steve doesn’t deny it. His lips form a perfect little ‘o’ without a sound and then his entire expression scrunches into embarrassment.

“Shit…are you serious?”

The blush is almost instantaneous, a sudden rush of heat to Steve’s cheeks so strong it almost hurts. He can’t turn his face away fast enough, forgets they’re in a hallway lit by only one red lamp far in the distance. It’s too much all of a sudden, the proximity, the narrow space they’re stuck in, Eddie’s eyes burning into his neck. He fumbles out of the embrace, manoeuvring Eddie a few feet away by his shoulders. To his credit the metalhead doesn’t fight it, allows himself to be dislodged and pushed away whilst Steve frantically regains his composure.

Steve is not going to have this conversation in a cheap, tacky, haunted house attraction on the side of the road somewhere in bumfuck Arizona. He’s not going to suffer through whatever Eddie is definitely about to say, and he’s absolutely not going to dignify the accusation with an answer, even when the answer is hanging in the air around them, loud and clear and undeniable.

He looks down the hallway towards where he’s certain the exit is. They must be near it by now, it feels like they’ve been in this damn place for hours. He looks at Eddie, who is doing a courageous job of holding back a giggling fit. Then he does the only thing he can think to do. He moves closer, bends down and picks Eddie up, hefting him over his shoulder.

“Put me down! You asshole! Are you fucking crazy?! STEVEN put me right the fuck down this FUCKING instant!” Eddie squawks, each word punctuated with an ineffectual punch to Steve’s back as he strides down the hallway towards the shadowy figure at the end.

“No can do Eds, you want out of here, right? Then suck it up for a minute so I can get us out of here.”

Eddie goes limp for a second, then weakly thumps Steve a few times in the back again.

“Don’t worry, I’ll put you down before we get outside, protect your dignity.” Steve continues, as he pushes the cardboard cut-out of a ghoulish looking child to one side and swings a left onto a hallway lined with corrugated metal walls that rattle as he passes.

Steve remembers picking Eddie up a month or so ago and carrying him to his bedroom when the older man had spent too much time watching tv and not enough time putting his lips on Steve’s body. That time he’d picked him up bridal style, carried him from the living room all the way to his bedroom on the floor above and Eddie had laughed the entire way, even when he bonked his head on the doorframe. A clumsy fireman’s lift in a haunted house doesn’t feel quite as romantic, and though Steve does have one hand firmly on Eddie’s ass, it’s 90% just to keep the guy from slipping off and hurting himself.

True to his word Steve sets Eddie down at the big double doors marked ‘Way Out’. Eddie scrambles to his feet, brushes himself off and levels a mean glare at Steve before shoving the door open for them both. Stepping out into the blinding sunlight they find the party already gathered on some picnic tables nearby, all of them looking incredibly pleased with themselves.

Steve is pretty sure Eddie’s not actually angry at him, but he apologises anyway. Eddie hmm’s a response as he slumps into the passenger seat with a dog-eared book, still looking a bit pale and shaken from the ordeal. Steve starts up the Winnebago once more, leaving the ghoulish attraction, and the unfortunate revelations it brought about, in the rear-view mirror.

***

Despite the distance from Hawkins, and the current lull in activity from the mind flayer (no one is quite sure if it’s gone for good or not) most of the group are still plagued with nightmares every once in a while. Eddie has it so bad he has to take tranquilisers to help him sleep some nights. Having Steve wrapped around him like a boa constrictor apparently helps, but that isn’t an option in the Winnebago with the kids just outside. So, when Steve wakes from his own nightmare that night (the usual, he’s back in the Upside Down, Dustin and Eddie’s lifeless corpses staring up at him glassy eyed as someone yells that it’s all his fault and he can feel the breath of demodogs just behind him but can never see them) and looks over to find Eddie’s pull-out bed empty, he’s worried, but isn’t that surprised. Earlier that evening he had placed the bat conveniently close to his pillow for easy access, but now he picks up the small flashlight from the table instead as he stumbles to his feet. His heart might be racing but his eyes are still bleary from sleep, it takes a moment to adjust to the silence and darkness of the trailer.

“Eds?” He whispers into the void. Hoping the guy has just moved to sit in the front, but there’s no answer, no shifting creaking sound of another body inside the Winnebago. He curses under his breath, taking a few steps back to his bed and picking up the bat, just in case.

It’s cold outside. They’re parked in a scrubby campsite near a roadside rest stop, too far from the building to see its lights, but the sound of cars occasionally fills the air. Steve hugs the bat to his chest and looks around at the three tents popped up outside. Everything seems fine, normal.

It takes a while to find Eddie. Every moment before finding him Steve’s panic increases, so by the time he finally spots the man leaning against an outcropping of rock in the distance he’s almost unable to breathe from the strain.

“…there you are.” Steve sighs with relief as he gets close enough. Lowering the bat to his side and taking a few steps forwards. Eddie looks pale and clammy and there’s a slight tremor in his hand as he lifts a joint to his lips, trails of smoke winding away into the cold evening air, his eyes slightly wild.

“Are you…“ Steve starts, feeling stupid asking really because he knows. He knows Eddie isn’t okay. He knows that the nights are the worst, that the wounds ache and itch and the monsters are lurking in everything. He doesn’t get to finish his question, because Eddie is already clinging to him, his face buried in the crook of Steve’s neck. Steve feels the same thing he feels every time Eddie is in his arms. That sudden rush of relief, as if the weight of the world has left his shoulders, because Eddie is there, Eddie is safe, Eddie is alive. He doesn’t bother finishing his question, lets the bat drop to the earth with a thud and envelopes Eddie in his arms as tight as he can. The tremors continue, Eddie’s breath is shaky, hot little puffs of air against Steve’s night-chilled skin. He buries his face in Eddie’s hair and breathes deeply, the smell of weed catching in the back of his throat. Steve is used to it by now, it’s almost pleasant.

Eddie might have no sense of personal space, but Steve is definitely the clingy one. He knows it, too, knows it must be annoying for Eddie to have to pry him off whenever he wants to grab a snack or take a piss or just…not have a limpet attached to him. Eddie never complains, then again they never talk about it, so Steve isn’t sure that’s the greatest measure of Eddie’s approval. At night, though, Steve is invariably pulled into Eddie’s half-asleep arms, stretched across him like a comforter, trapped in Eddie’s grasp. It’s not particularly comfortable, but it stops Eddie tossing and turning, flailing his arms and whimpering in his sleep, so Steve doesn’t complain.

It takes a while, just standing there in silence, tangled up in each other, but Eddie seems to calm slightly, the frantic racing of his heart slowing. Eventually he inhales a shuddering breath and lifts his head.

His hair is a mess, eyes puffy and red and Steve can now feel the cool dampness left on his skin, but it’s Eddie, Steve’s brain is wired to find him irresistible no matter what. Fingers gently slip under the hem of Steve’s t-shirt, warm against his lower back.

“Rough night?”

Eddie nods, still wrapped up close against Steve, fingers hot against his skin.

“Dropped your joint.” Steve observes, because if he thinks about the gentle circles Eddie is rubbing into his flesh he will combust.

Eddie shakes his head slightly like it doesn’t matter. Steve bites his lip to stop the urge to speak again, as it seems like Eddie isn’t really in the mood to talk for once. They just stand there, still hugging, by the large rock in the middle of nowhere. Steve is unable to look away from Eddie, Eddie alternating between resting his head on Steve’s shoulder and looking back. Now the problem is Steve’s heart, hammering away in his chest, he can feel it in his ears, his throat. It doesn’t help that it skips a damn beat every time Eddie glances at him through his mess of hair and tear-soaked eyes. He’ll have to sternly chastise his own loins at this rate, now is definitely not the time to be getting overly excited.

“We should…head back.” Steve eventually chokes out, though it’s the last thing he actually wants to do. Why did he even suggest it? He’s once again found himself in a private secluded spot with the guy who makes his blood fizzle like a shaken-up soda pop and he’s once again, like a fucking coward, trying to run away.

“Not yet.” Eddie hums, hands sliding slightly higher up Steve’s back. Now entering Soda Pop Central, population: Steve Harrington.

It all feels…different, somehow. Sure, they’ve cuddled before, but those cuddles usually came before, or after, extremely energetic and enthusiastic, borderline obscene, sex. They cuddle, they make out, Steve gives Eddie as many hickeys as he can before Eddie physically pushes him away, and then they crash into whichever bed or flat surface (sometimes not even flat) they can find and go at it until they’re too tired to move. They don’t ever discuss things in the light of day. They certainly don’t cuddle in open fields with no possibility of any follow through. Then again, prior to this trip Steve didn’t think they shared longing glances and secret smiles over the table during D&D sessions, but apparently they do do that now.

It’s not that Steve minds, it’s just…different. The kind of different Steve would like to become ‘normal’ but it isn’t normal yet, it hasn’t yet been added to the ‘approved ways to interact with Eddie Munson’ spreadsheet that Steve keeps in his head.

He can feel it. The slight shift in Eddie’s posture, enough to hint at…something, the way the pressure of the man’s hands changes slightly, no longer just put there, now they are holding, touching, pushing against Steve’s lower back, pulling their waists together. In a moment, the whole world will become Eddie, all his senses highly attuned to each and every touch and sound from the other man. In a moment, Steve is going to give in.

Eddie’s nose brushes against his jaw, a puff of warm breath across his cheek. Steve closes his eyes and feels the soda-pop fizzle run through his whole body, allows it, welcomes it. Warm, chapped lips against the corner of his mouth, so familiar and gods it’s only been a few days since they last kissed but it feels like a fucking lifetime. He’s almost embarrassingly quick to respond, to reciprocate, to lift his hands up to Eddie’s face and yank their mouths together, open and messy, fingers tangled through Eddie’s hair. Subtlety and finesse fly out of the window, Steve groans the moment he feels Eddie’s tongue against his own.

Now the barrier has been breached he is only desperate for more. More touching, more kissing, deeper, wetter, all of it, everything Eddie can give him. He wants it all, right now. Right now this very second, before he loses his fucking mind. He feels Eddie’s smile and if he wasn’t entirely occupied kissing the man as thoroughly and deeply as possible, he would jump for joy. The worry of being discovered dissolves into nothingness. Steve isn’t sure he’d stop even if they were caught. There’s a palpable moment when Eddie starts to take over, overriding Steve’s wild energy, and the frenzied, sloppy kissing smooths out into something deeper, rhythmic and hot. Steve’s mind goes blank, Eddie’s mouth and tongue and bitey teeth indulgent in their ministries and Steve willing and eager to accept anything and everything he’s offered.

When they do pull apart, breathing heavily and trailing saliva between their open mouths, Eddie licks his lips and stares intently into Steve’s eyes like he’s trying to telepathically communicate with him. Whatever it is, it doesn’t get through, Steve is already staring at Eddie’s lips again, hungry for more.

One kiss and the locked cover over the well of Need inside Steve’s chest is almost completely obliterated. Kissing never felt as good as it feels with Eddie. He’s had good kisses before, with girls. With Nancy he had kisses that felt like they meant something, felt like he was building up to the big l.o.v.e. thing and then that was over and he was left with a bitter taste in his mouth and a thousand regrets and a bunch of annoying kids he now inexplicably cares about. Kissing Eddie is just so easy. It was easy right from the start. Steve has always adjusted before. Reigned in his personal preferences to match his partners, to keep everyone happy. Eddie kisses the way Steve likes to kiss, the way Steve wants to be kissed. A bit too rough and with far more tongue and occasionally biting teeth than Steve has ever had the courage to try with any girl.

“Guys?” A disembodied but familiar voice from behind Steve has him almost jumping out of his skin. Eddie’s warm hands slip away as he takes a couple of hasty steps backwards, bumping into the rock he’d been leaning against earlier.

Steve rubs his mouth with the back of his hand, heart now pounding for an entirely different reason. The crunching of footsteps follows the voice and Steve turns to see someone holding a flashlight in the distance.

“…Henderson?” Steve calls out quietly, reaching down to pick up his own flashlight and the bat, which lie forgotten at his feet.

The figure comes into view, and of course it’s Dustin, looking pale and concerned in his PJs.

“I went to get a glass of water and the trailer was empty. What are you guys doing out here?” There’s a familiar hint of disapproval and accusation to his tone, as if he himself were the adult scolding Steve and Eddie for sneaking out at night.

“Just…getting some fresh air.” Steve hedges, glad that it’s too dark to see how much he feels he’s blushing.

“Bad dreams.” Eddie monotones behind him.

“You shouldn’t be wandering around either, Henderson. It’s really late”

Dustin scoffs.

“I was thirsty, sue me. Aren’t you two supposed to be the responsible ones?”

“Who told you that? We’re just the ones who can drive.” Eddie replies before Steve can say anything, he can smell weed again, so Eddie’s probably relit his abandoned joint.

“You snuck out to smoke, really?” Dustin stares at him, wide eyed and disappointed.

“Sue me.” Eddie deadpans, but there’s a slight tremor in his voice now and Steve sighs heavily.

“C’mon Henderson, Eds needs some space.” As soon as Dustin’s back is turned, Steve reaches out, unthinking, to grasp Eddie’s hand, the returning grip is vice-like for a second, then it’s gone, leaving Steve’s hand cold and empty. It takes all Steve has to turn away and leave him there in the dark, alone.

***

Eddie doesn’t return to the trailer until well over an hour later. Steve lies wide awake on his uncomfortable mattress, mind conjuring all kinds of horrific scenarios where Eddie is attacked by wild animals or kidnapped by passers-by, or the Upside Down somehow stretches across the entire continent and a gate opens up just beneath Eddie’s feet and he’s lost to Vecna once again. His chest feels tight from the worry, he clings to the bat and the torch and agonises over whether or not he should go out there and drag Eddie back to the trailer if need be. Anything to make himself feel a little saner. He’s too worried to even feel horny, which is new and honestly, given the situation, kind of a relief.

When Eddie does get back his movements are sluggish. He falls onto his bed with a heavy sigh and curls up, hugging his knees to his chest, turning to face away from Steve’s side of the room. It would be churlish to be pissed off at this, totally petty and unnecessary but it does sting ever so slightly. Steve hadn’t been expecting a touching reunion, or a continuation of what had gotten cut short earlier, but an acknowledgment of his presence would have been nice. He finally puts the nail bat and the torch on the floor and lies back, imminent dangers now gone he should really try to get some more sleep.

Eddie sighs, bed springs squeaking under him as he turns over. A few minutes pass. A huff, a grumble, more creaking, the sound of Eddie punching his pillow as if that will do anything to fix his inability to sleep. It clearly doesn’t. He tosses and turns and irritably huffs for a few more minutes until…

“Fuck.” It’s a whispered shout, and it sounds more like a quack than an actual word. It’s accompanied by the sound of Eddie flopping like an angry fish for a few seconds. Steve stifles a chuckle as Eddie sits up in his bed and sighs heavily. He crosses the few feet between their beds in a second, staring down at Steve through a haze of tired irritation. Steve stares back up at Eddie.

“…Steve…”

It’s barely audible, a quiet plea breathed out into the empty space between them, the shapeless enormity of emotions behind it giving Steve goose pimples. Eddie’s lip trembles, hands balled up into fists at his sides. Steve shifts backwards on his mattress until he bumps against the wall, lifting the blanket away without a word.

It’s a tight squeeze, the both of them on one narrow mattress. Steve is fine with it. Whatever he expected Eddie to do, curling up against him and burying his face in Steve’s t-shirt was not it. He’s immediately frozen in place, like when Dustin’s stupid cat gets on his lap and he basically has to give up on moving for however long the cat wants to use him as a chair. Eddie nuzzles in, trying to get closer, though that’s not exactly possible unless he cracks open Steve’s chest like Han did in that one Star Wars movie. Instinctively Steve wraps both arms around him, the need to protect and hold and care for overriding every other reaction his body is having, every concern that he’s overstepping boundaries they haven’t talked about yet. The arms shift as Eddie settles into the embrace with a small sigh. Steve’s fingers drift to Eddie’s neck, brushing those unruly curls away from his face.

It's a good face. In Steve’s opinion it might be one of the best faces out there. Definitely in the top five at least. Right now it’s all scrunched up, nose squished into Steve’s chest, hands balled up in his shirt. He’s seen it looking much worse, covered in blood and dirt, a worryingly pale shade of blue, bandaged and puffy from medication and surgery, the many faces of Eddie Munson. Eddie whimpers, elbow jabbing out suddenly into Steve’s ribs, he holds the man tighter in his arms until it passes and Eddie’s shoulders relax again. He might not get any sleep of his own tonight, but that’s fine. Wrapped around Eddie like a safety vest, Steve feels completely content to keep vigil for the rest of the night, if it will keep the terrors away from Eddie’s dreams. It feels nice to be needed, to be useful, when he spends so much of his time feeling completely useless. Shitty job, crappy education, very few prospects for the future, Steve knows he doesn’t have much to offer anyone, but he can help make Eddie feel safe enough to sleep for a few hours, and honestly, that feels a lot more important than a good GPA.

When he’s certain Eddie has finally succumbed to sleep, he bends down and kisses the older man's hair, just above his temple. It's gentle and chaste and disgustingly sentimental, all the things he and Eddie aren’t, all the things Steve is desperately holding back. A moment later Steve closes his own eyes, trying not to think about the line he definitely just crossed, hoping to catch an hour or two of shut eye before the morning rolls around. Hoping that one day soon he’ll be able to kiss Eddie’s hair, his lovely face, and not feel conflicted about it.

Chapter Text

The morning dawns bright and unforgiving, sunlight jabbing into Steve’s face after what feels like only a few minutes of sleep. Burying his head in his pillow doesn’t work either, he only succeeds in colliding his nose with the top of Eddie’s head, making his eyes water. Eddie is still where he left him a few hours earlier, curled up in Steve’s shirt, face smoothed by the comfortable oblivion of sleep. A glance at his watch tells Steve that the others will be rousing soon, that he should savour the last few minutes of real comfort he’s felt in days. He’s really pushing it, can hear increasingly loud sounds of movement outside by the time he finally decides to get up. His lips once again brush against Eddie’s forehead as he reluctantly detangles himself from their embrace, careful to not wake the other man.

Steve tries to keep the noise down as much as possible whilst making breakfast, to allow Eddie as much rest as he can get. Unfortunately the teens don’t share this sentiment, they’re soon slamming open kitchen cupboards and chattering excitedly about meeting up with Jonathan and Nancy later that day. They’re supposed to be visiting the Grand Canyon, it’s one of Steve’s bucket-list destinations but he’s finding it hard to feel excited when everything around him feels fuzzy and unstable, like he’s an overplayed cassette tape, crumpled at the edges.

It’s cereal and whatever fruit they have hanging around for breakfast, since they’re meeting the others at a diner later that morning. Steve nurses a gritty mug of black coffee, trying to ignore the ache in the base of his spine, his body’s way of rebelling against too many nights of not enough sleep. Eddie remains curled up under the blanket for a while, but now the gang are awake and having frankly unnecessarily loud conversations over their breakfast and Steve has asked them four times to quiet down but it’s truly hopeless. The blanket is thrown to the floor and Eddie yells at the top of his voice.

“Will you shut the hell up?! I’m trying to sleep!!”

With a dramatic huff he flops face-down onto Steve’s bed again, the springs creaking and groaning in protest. Steve levels the shocked teens with a superior raised eyebrow, one hand on his hip.

“You heard the guy.”

Steve doesn’t think Eddie actually gets any more sleep, but he remains face down and motionless for almost another hour. Twenty minutes before they’re set to leave Steve plonks a mug of coffee (black, two sugars) on the floor next to him and chances a pat on his shoulder. Eddie grumbles, hand snapping out to grab Steve’s wrist and squeeze in what Steve assumes is thanks, or else a feeble punishment for rousing him.

“…twenty minutes till we head out.” He mumbles, giving Eddie’s hand a gentle pat. The man releases him with a huff and, after Steve has retreated to the relative safety of the kitchen area, he manoeuvres awkwardly into a semi-sitting position, grabbing his drink.

***

It’s a short drive to the meet up point they had agreed on. Eddie clambers into the driving seat grumpily, despite Steve offering to take over.

“Deal’s a deal, Stevie Wonder.” He huffs, starting up the engine and almost immediately stalling it. After a bit of creative swearing and some botanical carnage they’re headed towards the highway. Steve is in charge of directions, which goes about as well as can be expected considering his current state of exhaustion. Eddie misses four turns because Steve doesn’t warn him in time and they have to turn around twice to get back on the right road. When they finally arrive at the agreed upon meet up point 40 minutes later than planned, Eddie is more irritable than ever and Steve has a pounding headache.

“What’s up my dudes?” A familiar drawl calls out as they unload from the Winnebago. Argyle is walking towards them with their arms wide open. They’ve truly outdone themself with their outfit this time, the colours and patterns so jarring and mismatched it could only have been done on purpose. The surfer boy pizza truck is parked a little farther away, Nancy and Jonathan follow behind their enthusiastic companion, waving at the group.

After the usual greetings, (apparently Eddie and Argyle had time to create an elaborate secret handshake that takes a good five minutes to complete during the short time they’d been in Hawkins) they bundle into the nearby diner and spread out across two booths. Steve gets stuck in the corner of one, next to Argyle with Eddie on their other side. Across from him Max, Lucas and Dustin are all trying and failing to share one grease-stained menu.

“Y’all ready to order?” A pretty strawberry-blonde waitress in a pink and white striped apron appears at the end of their booth, popping gum and holding a small notepad and pen. She’s looking at Eddie, who is closest and has completely clammed up. He stammers a little and the waitress simply stares back politely, waiting. Steve leans around Argyle and gives her what he hopes is his winning smile, saving Eddie from having to respond. It’s been a while since he’s used it, it feels like he’s putting on a shirt that doesn’t quite fit anymore.

“We’re still looking, but…I’ll take a coffee, please?”

It must have been the Harrington smile because the waitress perks up and turns her full attention to Steve instead.

“Sure thing, Sugar.” She gives him an overly warm smile and wanders away towards the counter.

Eddie turns to look at him, face oddly blank. Argyle is already listing off what they’re going to order without having been prompted to do so.

“…Eds?” Steve hesitates, and Eddie seems to snap out of whatever trance he was in, clearing his throat and reaching out to grab the menu from Dustin, ignoring Steve entirely. Eddie spends much of breakfast from that point on with his face either buried in the menu, or staring straight down at his plate. He barely even reacts when Dustin shoves two straws behind his upper lip and pretends to be Dracula.

***

The Grand Canyon is offensively huge. Steve stands at the look-out point staring out at it all, bare metres from where the earth just falls away into the abyss. The photos in the guidebooks and the postcard from his parents on the fridge back home really don’t do it justice. Steve feels nauseous from it, not just the sheer drop but how it reminds him sickeningly of the craters left around Hawkins after the battle with Vecna. Another pleasant experience ruined by the shit show the last few years has been. Nearby the others are all gazing out as well, at the scary power of nature in all its glory. Max and El are posing for photos so damn close to the edge, Steve opens his mouth to say something but Nancy is already there taking care of it. On the other side the boys are picking up small rocks and hucking them into the void, laughing. There was definitely a sign somewhere on their way in forbidding doing exactly this, but Steve doesn’t trust himself not to throw up if he opens his mouth so he just turns away and pretends he saw nothing.

“Having fun, Princess?”

The arm looped around his shoulders is steadying, anchoring him to the dusty earth. Eddie leans in, always so damn close, nose almost touching his cheek and he doesn’t bother trying to move out of the half-embrace. If he turns their faces will be so close together they might as well be kissing, and maybe looking at Eddie would be better than staring down into the craggy ravine and envisioning undulating vines creeping upwards to pull him down.

It’s Eddie whose breath catches in his throat as their eyes meet. When Steve nods his head in answer to his question, their noses brush together. It feels like touching a livewire. If they were playing a game of chicken, Steve would probably be winning. Eddie leans back slightly with a small laugh, still close, not nearly close enough, eyes wider than saucers. Steve takes in the view for a moment. Not the colossal landscape of dry earth and scrub bushes, not the place he’d been wanting to visit for years, a tick off his bucket-list, just the guy standing at his side. The persistent winds have mussed his long hair, a strand of which is stuck to his lip, his eyes are a little bloodshot around the very edges, the sleeves were cut from the AC/DC shirt he’s wearing, the holes at the arms so large his ribs are visible.

Eddie’s eyes flicker closed for a second as Steve reaches up and brushes the strand of hair away from his lips. He has to dig his nails into the palm of his hand to stop himself from just leaning in and kissing the beautiful bastard. At least this time he only has himself to blame, he could have stepped away, could have made some dumb joke to break the tension. Instead he leaned in, into the embrace, into the comforting stability and warmth of Eddie “Sunshine” Munson, and now he’s stuck in a prison of his own making.

“Steve, Eddie! Would you two stop messing around and come over here? We’re taking a group photo.”

Nancy’s voice cuts the tension like a hacksaw through dry wood. The almost-moment shatters as reality bleeds back into Steve’s consciousness. Oh right, they’re on a road trip, with nine other people. Privacy no longer exists and none of their companions know about their ‘situation’. Hardly the best time to be staring longingly at the guys lips, Harrington. Pull it the fuck together. Steve shakes off the bubbles under his skin and turns towards Nancy’s voice, pulling Eddie along as he walks over to the group, already gathered by a large signboard.

***

“This morning, at the diner…” Steve mutters, keeping his eyes on the ground as they trek down the gentle incline. He hadn’t expected them to actually walk that far, and is regretting his choice of shoe after rolling his ankle twice already. He and Eddie are at the far end of the group, a good distance from the others. It’s taken Steve a full twenty minutes to say anything.

“Hm? What was that, hon?” Eddie asks, sounding like he just snapped out of a daydream.

“At the diner this morning, what happened?” Steve chews on his lower lip, carefully stepping around and over the jumbled rocks along the path.

“You’ll have to be more specific, man.”

“You got dunked in carbonite the moment that waitress came over, don’t act dumb.”

Eddie inhales sharply, there’s nothing but the crunching of their shoes against the earth for a few moments, Eddie’s feet a little slower than before.

“It’s stupid…”

“Try me.” Steve intones, pausing at a point before the path ahead narrows and gesturing for Eddie to go first. He receives a mocking curtsey as thanks and smiles to himself as he follows behind the metalhead.

“That waitress, she uh…” Eddie pauses, sighing heavily. “She looked like her, gave me the heebie jeebies, y’know?”

“…fuck. Shit, Eds. I’m sorry, man-” Steve rushes, immediately regretting asking. “I didn’t…” Steve has only really seen Chrissy on the news and in memorials in the paper, but he still feels like he should have known, somehow.

Eddie laughs through his nose and pats Steve on the back, an act that simultaneously feels pleasant and patronising.

“Don’t sweat it. Thanks, by the way, for saving my ass with the patented ‘Harrington Charm’. That smile of yours should come with a warning, Big Boy.”

Steve locks the compliment up in the back of his mind, squirrelling it away with all the other vaguely flirty, vaguely suggestive comments Eddie sometimes throws his way. Doesn’t try to hide the smile that pulls at the corner of his lips, the rush of heat to his cheeks.

“It, uh…comes in handy sometimes I guess.” He mutters, Eddie grins at him.

“Oh I’m sure it does…” Eddie laughs, and then a crease appears between his eyebrows and the smile falls slightly. “Just, uh…don’t…don’t throw it around too much, alright?” He adds, as if considering his words very carefully. Steve is looking so intently at his walking companion he trips on a clump of mud. Eddie catches his arm before he can faceplant into the dirt, squeezing for a bit longer than necessary after Steve has righted himself.

“The competition is already fierce enough as it is…” Eddie mutters, so low that Steve only barely catches what he says.

“Eddie, I…” Steve opens his mouth before he’s thought about what he actually wants to say. It feels like the right timing, though, the perfect moment to broach the subject. Swallowing down the swarm of locusts battling in his stomach he tries again. “I really…I mean, I think you already know, but I just wanted to, y’know, make sure, or whatever, that I-“

“Hey Eddie! C’mere, quick! Eddiiee!” Both Mike and Dustin’s voices echo around them. Steve seriously considers murder for a second. He swears under his breath, burying his face in his hands to hide the bubbling irritation and rage tugging at the edges of his brain.

“What were you saying, Peach?” Eddie puts his head to one side, ignoring the increasingly loud yelling, focused in on Steve with all the intensity of an entomologist pinning their latest specimen.

“Hmm? Oh, uh…” Steve flounders, his stupid bravery from seconds before already evaporated, leaving behind a greasy layer of embarrassment and shame. “It’s nothing, don’t worry about it. The uhh…the gremlins are calling you.” He gestures lamely towards the voices of Dustin and Mike, avoiding direct eye contact. To make matters worse, the nausea from earlier also seems to have made a triumphant return.

“You sure?”

“Yeah, yeah…you should go see what all the fuss is about.” The airy tone doesn’t quite sound right. Eddie hovers for a moment longer and Steve sweats under his gaze. He must pass the test, though, because eventually Eddie pats him on the arm and jogs off down the path towards the others, leaving Steve alone, stomach in knots, palms sweaty, feeling like an absolute idiot.

***

By the time Steve re-joins the others on the return journey up the slope, the teens are interrogating Eddie about his hickeys again. He’s a moment too late in realising this, a moment too late to stop himself getting dragged into the fray as well.

“Do you know, Steve?” Dustin presses the moment he’s within earshot.

“Do I know what?” Steve feigns ignorance. Eddie and Nancy turn their attention to him as well, one looking nonplussed, the other clearly simmering with anticipation. Until this point Steve has managed to avoid all involvement in the thrilling mystery, he should have known he’d get caught sooner or later.

The gathered teens roll their eyes almost in unison.

“About Eddie’s mystery girlfriend, of course.” Max speaks up, eyes dancing with amusement though she manages to keep her tone merely curious.

“You’re not all still on about that, are you?” He puts his hands on his hips almost without thinking, like maybe if he enters ‘babysitter’ mode they’ll all get off his back and stop asking about the hickeys that he definitely had nothing to do with.

“YES. We are. Aren’t you two supposed to be friends? Eddie didn’t tell you anything?” Dustin pipes up, irater than Steve had expected.

“Why do you care so much, dude? It’s not your business who Eds is spending his time with.”

“You two spend a lot of time together though, surely he’s mentioned the lucky lady once or twice?” Max butts in, staring Steve down.

“You know who it is.” It’s a statement, not a question, from El who has been hanging off Eddie’s arm as they walk. Now she’s joined Max in dead-eyeing Steve. He gets that weird prickly feeling at the back of his neck and wills himself not to blush. At least he gets a small reprieve from needing to reply because Dustin, Mike and Lucas are all yelling in his face a moment later.

“Are they from Hawkins High?”

“Have you met her?”

“Do we know them?”

“Why can’t we meet her? We need to see if she’s cool enough to be dating Eddie.”

“C’mon she’s gotta be insanely cool if Eddie likes her.”

Eddie stifles a laugh at this particular comment from Mike.

“Are you really dating someone, Eddie?” Nancy asks, genuinely curious, just as the tidal wave of interrogation crests and falls silent. Steve’s chest aches as he watches the kaleidoscope of emotions that wash across Eddie’s face. His smile from a moment earlier falls as he looks down at his feet, scuffing his shoe against the hard earth. Everyone in the group is looking at him now. For the third time that day Steve feels distinctly sick to his stomach, only this time it's coupled with a light, oddly hopeful feeling somewhere near his spleen.

Eddie recovers quicker than Steve, tipping back his head and laughing. An action that reveals the three fading hickeys crawling up his neck in a neat line as if he planned it to do so. Probably did, dramatic fucker that he is.

“Sorry Wheeler, I don’t kiss and tell.” Eddie winks, comically exaggerating the action. A moment later he’s sticking his hands in his pockets and marching off along the path ahead of everyone else. Dustin and Mike scramble after him, still peppering him with questions, the rest of the group follow behind at a distance.

Like a popped balloon, Steve lets out the breath he’s been holding since Nancy spoke. Max and El are still eyeing him carefully, he feels flayed open under their gaze, a suspect in an interrogation room.

“What?” He finally huffs, when they both refuse to stop staring at him after a few minutes.

Max raises an eyebrow expectantly, smug with her secret knowledge, El merely stares at him like she’s trying to solve a complex maths problem on his face. It’s infuriating. Do they expect him to jump at the opportunity to out both himself and Eddie? To put targets on both of their backs for the entire world to label them as freaks and sexual deviants? Steve has seen and heard enough of the vitriol thrown at people like them, people like Robin, to know there is very little hope of a happy ending in that direction. Besides, he thinks bitterly as their stalemate continues, Eddie is already persecuted enough, he doesn’t need another sword hanging over him.

“Leave it, Max.” He finally grunts, his jaw clenched tight. Something in his tone must get through to her, because she shrugs, pats him on the elbow and then wanders off, linking arms with El as they walk.

***

It’s all a bit of a blur after that for Steve, the sleep deprivation sinking into his bones, making him feel like everything going on around him is being fast-forwarded whilst he remains at normal playback speed. He vaguely registers leaving the Grand Canyon site, following behind the Surfer Boy Pizza van for a few dusty miles of highway. He also kind of remembers stopping to refuel and letting the teens buy whatever shitty junk food and candy they want, shoving a wad of notes into Eddie’s hand to take care of the bill. The rest is a hazy fog of noise and colours and the sun slowly setting and people speaking at him.

He gets a second wind (or perhaps a third) when they arrive at the motel and the part of his brain programmed to be responsible and in charge of situations kicks in once more. He and Nancy handle checking-in, collecting room keys and nodding along as the monotone man at the front desk goes over the rules for overnight guests.

“We got three rooms in a row, El and Max, you’re sharing with me.” Nancy nods at the two girls, having corralled the group into the small lounge area next to the reception desk. “I trust you boys can decide amongst yourselves who’s sleeping where?” She intones, handing one key to Jonathan and the other to Eddie. Steve stands mutely at her side, the room is disconcertingly wobbly around the edges of his vision and he’s having to focus on a grimy landscape painting on the far wall to stay upright without feeling sick. He zones out for a bit, the voices around him smoothing into a muted background hum, and when he comes back Nancy is staring at him, slim eyebrows folded into a frown that is both irritated and concerned.

“Huh?” Steve’s head feels like it’s grown three times heavier, his tongue a leaden pipe he struggles to shape into words.

“Jesus Steve, what’s going on with you today?” Nancy snaps, stomping her foot in frustration. Steve blinks at her, trying to swim through the syrup of his mind to locate the right words for a response. A heavy hand thumps onto his shoulder, the impact reverberating through him in the same way the familiar cigarette smoke smell vibrates in his soupy brain.

“Don’t be too hard on him, Wheeler. Big boy here had a bit of a rough night.” Eddie pulls Steve into his side, where he slots in perfectly, barely resisting the urge to lean all his weight on the older man.

“Well, he can go to bed as soon as we’ve called the party’s parents, then.” Nancy responds, still sounding a bit peeved.

Steve has wrangled his left arm around Eddie, his palm on the small of his back. Eddie is perfectly warm to the touch, a stable foundation for Steve to lean into. He thinks vaguely he should probably move away a little, should probably keep a safe distance between the two of them. A second later he’s being dragged over to the payphone in the corner by El and he doesn’t have to worry about how much physical contact is too much, instead he has to worry about dialling the number for Joyce and Hoppers place correctly and not sounding like a zombie when they pick up.

After Joyce and Hopper, who want to speak to literally everyone in the group (even Argyle), Steve calls Mr and Mrs Wheeler, Mr and Mrs Sinclair, Mrs Henderson and Max’s mother. He’s roped into conversation with almost all of them to some degree. Dustin’s mother in particular is eager to hear how the trip is going. She asks to speak to Eddie also, which seems to shock the metalhead, though he obliges and makes polite small talk for a few minutes, nonetheless. Eddie calls the trailer on the off-chance Wayne is around, when he gets no answer he sighs and scribbles a note on his hand to try again in the early morning.

By the time everyone else is done with phone calls, it’s much later than Steve had expected. He’d promised Robin he would call her at around 5pm, it’s almost two hours after that when he finally gets the phone to himself. Slotting in a few coins he smooths out the crumpled note Robin had shoved in his hand the last time he’d seen her, deciphering the chicken scratch that is his best friend's handwriting and dialling the number.

The line buzzes, clicks and then starts to ring, the tinny noise drilling into Steve’s weary brain. It rings for so long he thinks about hanging up, but then there’s a crunch and an unfamiliar voice on the other end of the line.

“Camp Bastion, Imogen speaking.”

“Hi, hello…is uh…is Robin Buckley around?”

“…I can go find her, who is this?”

Robin had been adamant that the camp doesn’t restrict phone calls from outside, but there’s a hesitation in the voice on the other end of the receiver that tells Steve otherwise. He doubles down on his polite tone.

“Shit, sorry…it’s uh… It’s Steve Harrington.”

There’s a small, almost imperceptible intake of breath from Imogen at this. Steve racks his brain trying to remember if he knows any Imogens, or went to school with any, but draws a blank. Eddie is lounging on one of the couches in the communal area, legs stretched up over the arm of the thing. Steve forces himself to focus back on the phone call.

“Just a moment, please.” Imogen trills, and the line goes silent. Steve’s eyes wander once more to Eddie in his cut-off jeans, kicking his feet excitedly as he laughs at whatever dumb joke Argyle just told. Steve would dearly like to walk over, grab him by the knees and push his legs apart so he can slide in between them and make himself at home on top of the older man.

“STEVE!!!” Robin yells through the phone and Steve wrenches the receiver away from his ear. “You said you’d call ages ago!! What happened?! Are you okay?! I thought you’d forgotten about me!”

“Woah, Robs, I already almost lost my hearing once, can you try not to deafen me a second time?” It’s hard to be even slightly mad at his best friend, the joy of hearing her voice for the first time in a few weeks is already seeping infectiously through his skin. Not for the first time he wishes Robin were on the trip with them, wishes he’d told Robin everything, all about him and Eddie, all about his worries.

“I was worried Dingus! Thought you and Eddie had driven that stupid Winnebago into a ditch somewhere. Do you know how many hidden underground cave systems there are in this country? People go missing all the time! Not to mention sinkholes and tornadoes, freak weather disasters, alien abductions-“

“Rob-Robin, we’re fine.” Steve cuts her off before she truly falls down a rabbit hole. “Sorry I didn’t call sooner, had to call all the shrimp's parents first, let them know we didn’t lose any.”

Robin inhales deeply, the rush of air sounding over the line. Steve waits as she slowly exhales as well.

“So?” Robin asks, impatient.

“So…?”

She clicks her tongue impatiently, like Steve should fucking know what she means.

“How is it? Tell me everything, I’m dying over here. All we do is practise the same two songs over and over again all day, then sit around in the cafeteria eating room temperature mac’n’cheese at night. I swear if I have to listen to someone playing fucking kumbaya one more time I might explode.”

“It’s…going good.” Steve clears his throat slightly, then starts to tell her all about it, the weird roadside attractions they visited, the corn maze (leaving out the incident with Eddie), the possum, the flat tyre and how Eddie is apparently really good at fixing cars. Despite Robin’s proclivity to overshare, she’s a good listener, too. She reacts in all the right places, even laughs uproariously as Steve gives her an abridged version of the fiasco at the haunted house attraction. He’s so into retelling the events of the past few days that he doesn’t notice Eddie approaching until the guy presses up against him, resting his chin on Steve’s shoulder. The sudden, intense, physical contact has him stuttering to a halt, chest tightening.

“Is that a little Birdy I hear?” Eddie asks, nodding at the phone in Steve’s hand, despite definitely being close enough to hear Robin on the other end.

“Freak!!” Robin yells in Steve’s ear before he can respond and Eddie grins. Steve isn’t sure how or when the moniker had become an affectionate nickname between the pair and makes a mental note to ask Robin about it when they return to Hawkins.

“Heya love, you good?”

Steve ends up passing the phone to Eddie, since Robin seems to have a lot to say to him, moving far enough away that he can still see the guy, but can’t hear what they’re talking about. He ends up on the same couch Eddie had been lounging on earlier, striking up a conversation with Nancy so he doesn’t look like he’s just sitting around watching Eddie creepily from a distance (though that is mostly what he’s doing).

The other man keeps drumming his fingers against his thigh, against the phone, against the table the phone is sat on, deep in conversation. His foot keeps tapping out the same discordant rhythm. He shakes his head at something Robin must be saying, long hair swishing back and forth, then he laughs loudly. Steve chews on his bottom lip and Nancy prods him in the side with her foot.

“Huh?” He blinks, tearing his eyes from Eddie to look questioningly at Nancy. She already has one slim eyebrow raised, as if daring him to try to make an excuse for not paying attention. He doesn’t bother, just waits for her to speak.

“We were talking about getting pizza and watching a movie in the room tonight. Are you going to join us, or would you rather spend your time staring into space?”

At least she doesn’t say ‘staring at Eddie’ though the implication is still there, hanging unspoken in the air between them. Nancy is good at figuring things out, and Steve is in no fit state to try and deny anything. He nods, for some reason everyone is now staring at him which is disconcerting.

“Yeah…sure, whatever. Sounds good.”

“Great, then we’ll order after Eddie’s done on the phone.”

***

The movie selection they brought with them isn’t large, so they end up watching Star Wars for the umpteenth time. Argyle and Jonathan volunteer to wait downstairs for the pizzas to arrive. When they reappear they’re both carrying three boxes and looking distinctly red around the eyes. The familiar waft of pot smoke curls in Steve’s nostrils as they settle into the remaining spaces in the room.

The party has sprawled out across the two beds, every cushion and blanket from all three of their rooms piled up around them. The adults, as they laughingly refer to themselves, have had to make do with the floor. Resting their backs against the foot of the beds for support.

Steve is half-sitting on Eddie before he realises his mistake. The movie is in full swing and all other eyes are trained on the TV, except Eddie’s. Eddie is looking at Steve, eyes twinkling with amusement. He hasn’t resisted the encroachment on his personal space, in fact he moved his pizza dish out of his lap a minute earlier when Steve hit it with his knee, but a rush of embarrassment floods Steve’s system anyway. It was like his stupid exhausted brain had gone into autopilot, and apparently autopilot for Steve means ‘cling to Eddie Munson’. He cringes, avoids Eddie’s gaze and moves to crawl away a few feet and hopefully fall into a bottomless pit if one would kindly open up nearby. Eddie’s arm latches around his back and tugs him closer, Steve can see the light from the TV glinting off his teeth as he grins down at him. Too tired to put up even a modicum of a fight, Steve allows himself to be scooped into Eddie’s lap. Allows here meaning willingly and wantonly, practically begging for it really.

He’s more shocked, however, when Eddie lifts him into his arms and stands up for all the room to see. To avoid falling Steve clings to Eddie’s neck, as the older man laughs and stumbles slightly under the weight.

“Better get King Steven to his bedchamber before he blacks out on the floor.” Eddie announces, whilst Steve battles to keep his eyes open and his heart inside of his chest.

Since when could Eddie pick him up? This new and horrifyingly intriguing tidbit of knowledge burrows into the dark recesses of his mind, sparking against the restless energy generated from his proximity to Eddie. Until this point his half-delirious, exhausted, mental state had kept the constant burning desire at bay, but being actively held in Eddie’s arms, like a damn blushing bride on her wedding night, is quickly eroding the barrier of sleep-deprivation.

There’s very little reaction from their companions. At most Argyle glances up, chuckles and goes back to watching the movie. The party whines when Eddie passes by the TV screen, obscuring their view for a few moments, but no one bats an eyelid at Eddie carrying Steve out of the room. Steve wonders for a moment what it would actually take for his clueless friends to notice that maybe, just maybe, he and Eddie are more than just touchy-feely platonic friends. The thought doesn’t get very far. Eddie manoeuvres poorly through the door of their shared room, Steve’s head banging into the doorframe as he does. The rattles of his brain rolling around in his skull subside when he’s gently placed on the closest bed. To Steve’s credit he only grumbles a little bit when Eddie relinquishes his hold on him.

He's left alone for a bit and uses the time to shuffle out of his jeans, kicking them off so they fall in a heap by the side of the bed. He’s struggling to get out of his shirt when Eddie returns, looming over him, a dark-haired vision in an AC/DC shirt with pizza sauce on his chin.

“Need some help with that, Sire?” Eddie chuckles, placing a glass of water on the bedside table and leaning down to help tug Steve’s shirt off. Usually, when they help each other remove clothes, there’s a thrill of anticipation and impatience in the air, the promise of things to come. This time, it’s like a kindly nurse helping a favourite patient. Steve doesn’t even have the energy to thank him, his mouth went missing around the time he got picked up and the heavy cloak of sleep is already drawing across his vision.

“Goodnight, your highness.” Eddie is still there, though Steve’s eyes have closed of their own accord, which is extremely inconsiderate of them honestly, considering the view he’s missing. The last thing Steve feels before he falls into dreamless sleep is a blanket being pulled over him, up to his shoulders. He might have felt a warm, fleeting pressure on his cheek also, but he won’t remember that the next morning.

Chapter Text

The room is stuffy and silent when Steve jolts awake, unsure where he is or how exactly he got there. Heart racing, he sits up and looks around for the bat or some suitable item to use as a weapon, but finds only a glass of water on the bedside table and an unmade bed next to his own. Clearly not in any immediate danger, he tries to calm himself down. Counting in his head like Robin had taught him, he takes a few slow breaths in and out until his heart rate settles and the shake in his hands fades.

It’s one of those mornings where his joints ache and the scars on his stomach and neck feel angry and raw, screaming their protestations as he clambers out of bed to take a leak. Despite this, he’s a bit more stable on his feet after a full night’s sleep on an actual bed, the fog of tiredness from the last few days seeming to have finally left. He feels rested and alert, almost like Steve again. He can’t tell how long he’s been asleep for, but whilst he was resting someone clearly used the washroom. The walls and floor are damp with condensation and the complementary soap has been torn from its packaging. The packaging itself sits crumpled on the floor next to the trash can, like someone attempted to toss it, missed, and didn’t bother to try again.

In a bid to remove at least some of the ache from his bones, Steve follows the mystery person’s example and, after taking care of his bladder, hops in the shower. They don’t have his usual brand of hair care products, but the shower pressure and heat definitely make up for it.

He struggles into his discarded jeans afterwards, going commando for the moment because he isn’t about to put dirty underwear on his clean junk, and pulls on his shirt from the previous day as well. He opens the blinds in the main room and tugs at the rusted latches on the window until they pull free, creaking open a few inches, letting some fresh air into the room. He’s about to turn away and make the beds when he catches sight of a familiar figure in the parking lot, sitting on the steps of the Winnebago, puffing away on a cigarette.

Eddie waves up at him and Steve’s heart flutters against his ribs. Finally understanding how poor old Juliette must have felt when Romeo showed up under her balcony, Steve suppresses the goofy smile aching at his cheeks and waves back. At the same moment, going down to the Winnebago to retrieve some new clothes instantly becomes the number one task on his to-do list.

***

The moment he reaches the door of the RV, Eddie offers him a squashed pack of cigarettes and a blinding smile. Steve takes one, happy to have something to occupy his mouth and hands, plus a valid excuse to not make awkward small talk. He doesn’t have his own lighter, but as soon as he puts the butt of the cigarette between his lips, Eddie’s hand is right there, holding a small flame to its tip. Eddie smokes cheap cigarettes, the kind that make Steve’s eyes water, this one is no different. To his utter dismay he coughs up a storm on the first inhale like a complete fool.

“Easy Tiger.” Eddie purrs around his own cigarette, smoke curling out of his mouth as he speaks. His hand is already smacking against Steve’s back as he coughs, adding another incendiary element to his current predicament.

Steve turns away, unable to think of a snarky response, his brain having been reduced to a soup of impure thoughts. Thoughts mostly about how good it would taste to lean over and suck the smoke out of Eddie’s mouth. It would be delicious to inhale all of it, pull it deep down inside of him. Eddie’s taste, Eddie’s smell, Eddie’s smug little grin as he continues to smoke without issue, blowing rings into the air occasionally, showing off.

When the cigarettes and the persistent, lingering shake in his hands have both burned away, Steve makes them both coffee and toast. The inside of the Winnebago is a complete mess, like Eddie spent the morning ransacking the place. There must be a method to his madness though. He certainly seems to look like he knows what he’s doing, picking through a pile of clothes, tossing some to the left and others to the right.

“What the hell are you doing, Eds?” Steve asks when he can no longer hold in the curiosity. He can hear the desperate fondness in his voice all too clearly. It’s always harder to keep a lid on his feelings when it’s just the two of them. The pot is well and truly boiling over at this point.

“What does it look like I’m doing?” Eddie gestures at the piles of items around him, then puts his hands on his hips in a pretty decent impression of Steve ‘the babysitter’.

“I don’t know, making a mess?”

“Har-har.” Eddie says dryly, and Steve grins despite himself. “I’m packing, smart-ass.”

Steve’s chipper mood takes a pretty decent hit the moment Eddie finishes speaking. The music festival, he must have slept so well he forgot all about it. Eddie turns back to his clothes before Steve can reply so he just lets the silence hang in the air, sipping his coffee and watching the other man’s progress with slightly less enthusiasm than before.

***

“Nonono-! …shit.”

It’s lucky that the crockery in the Winnebago is mostly made of plastic, because Steve drops his drink the moment Eddie emerges from the washroom.

“What?” Eddie’s eyebrows scrunch into a frown. Steve struggles to form words, struggles to remember to breathe. He’s vaguely aware that his socks are unpleasantly wetter than they had been a few moments before.

He flounders, staring Eddie up and down like it’s the first time he’s ever seen the guy. He’s gotten used to the ripped jeans and the tight T-shirts, the chains and leather jacket and the hair, the tattoos. All of it par for the course, part of Eddie’s charm. This, however, is something Steve has never seen before, sprung on his weak heart with no time for emotional or mental preparation. It’s still Eddie, except, it’s absolutely not.

His shirt is entirely mesh. Long sleeved, black, mesh. Everything, from the numerous scars and tattoos across his chest, to Eddie’s nipple piercing, is on full display. The mesh sort of obscures it all, but the longer Steve looks the more that catches his eye. Then there’s the eyeliner, or maybe it’s eyeshadow? Paint? Crayon? Steve isn’t sure, but it’s black and smudged around Eddie’s stupid big eyes making them look even wider than usual.

“A picture’ll last longer, Bambi. What’s wrong?” Eddie sighs, mussing up his hair and leaning all his weight on one hip, staring straight back at Steve. He looks defiant, like he’s just waiting for Steve to challenge his outfit choice.

For a moment Steve actually considers borrowing the camera Will had brought along and getting Eddie to pose for a few shots. It takes a while to sink in that Eddie is probably joking. He clamps his mouth shut, embarrassed too late that it had been hanging open slightly until that point. He’s far too slow to realise he hasn’t actually responded to Eddie’s question, far too stunned to come up with a valid answer. What reason could he offer that wouldn’t sound equally as stupid as the truth.

“You look…good.” He chokes out, wondering if it’s against the rules for fuckbuddies to give compliments. Eddie cocks his head to one side, arms folded across his chest, eyes burning holes in Steve’s shaky defences. Steve shudders at the intensity of it, the dark makeup around Eddie’s already dark eyes making them even harder to handle.

***

They’re blissfully alone. Have been for the entire morning. The party are out buying groceries with Nancy and Jonathan, and Argyle is off somewhere procuring whatever illicit substances they are planning on taking to the festival. Steve has spent the past hour pretending to read a guidebook about LA, listening to Eddie packing and trying not to feel some kind of way about the thought of the man being gone for three whole nights.

It’s just three nights. Steve wants to be supportive, Eddie has spent enough time enthusing about what bands are going to be playing and who he’s most excited to see perform, pretty eyes all lit up and sparkling with anticipation. Steve has nodded and listened and responded when needed and he genuinely hopes that Eddie has a good time. It’s the least the guy deserves after all the shit he’s been through.

The only problem is Steve watched Eddie carefully pack the condoms and a small bottle of lube into his overnight bag earlier and now he can’t stop thinking about Eddie getting off with some rando in a field somewhere. Wouldn’t now be as good a time as any to broach the subject? Hasn’t Steve spent the whole morning pretending to read, pretending to clean, fluffing cushions and generally fiddling with stuff in the Winnebago in an attempt to come up with the perfect segway into …so Eds, y’know how we’ve been having incredible sex for the last two months? Well I think I might actually be in love with you so it would be really cool if we could like…go steady or something?

***

Whilst Steve’s brain fumbles for purchase, Eddie takes two measured steps forward, halving the distance between them cautiously. A hunter closing in on their skittish prey. When Steve doesn’t move away he takes it as permission and closes in, pinning Steve against the wall with one hand on either side of him.

“You really think so, Stevie?” He purrs, candy scented breath washing over Steve’s face. Steve wills his mouth to work, heart already thudding in his throat. He swallows in a vain attempt at dousing the fire stoked in his belly at those five little words and the possibilities they’re draped with.

“Mhm, r-really…good.” He manages, voice strained and breathless. Eddie’s thumb brushes against his bottom lip, fingers gently cupping his chin. All the blood in Steve’s body rushes to his cock at breakneck speed, leaving him lightheaded, giddy from the proximity and the ideas now springing to mind. There’s a mischievous glint in Eddie’s eyes, one that usually results in Steve feeling jelly-legged, sweaty, and boneless. There’s no one else around, Eddie is leaving for three days. Three whole days. It’s the longest they’ll have been apart since before Vecna, Steve already feels a tinge of loneliness even with the guy stood right in front of him.

“Eddie…” Steve breathes before he can stop himself. Drunk on the heat radiating off of Eddie’s body, so close and no longer off-limits. Eddie licks his lips thoughtfully, eyes flickering between meeting Steve’s gaze and Steve’s lips. He hums brightly in response, rough fingers tracing the arch of Steve’s eyebrow and the line of his cheek bone, the hard angles of his jaw. It’s excruciatingly slow and gentle, like they have all the time in the damn world. Steve bites his lip, closing his eyes and tilting his face slightly into the touch. Eddie leans in to melt hot kisses into his skin, holding his face in both hands, avoiding his lips like he knows that’s what Steve wants.

“Eds, please…” Steve’s voice trembles as Eddie trails kisses along his jaw, catching Steve’s earlobe between his teeth and sucking lightly. He’s buzzing all over, heartbeat pulsing in his crotch, sensitive skin pressed against rough denim.

“Hmm? What’s that Big Boy? Use your words…” Eddie taunts, releasing Steve’s ear only to scatter small, biting kisses down his neck, pulling at the collar of his shirt to nuzzle into the cleft of his chest. Eddie hasn’t shaved in the past few days and the friction of stubble against skin is tantalising.

It’s not like Steve is incapacitated, more like he’s caught between the desire to be touched and the desire to be touching.

“Eds, would you just…” he tries again. How lame it feels to have to ask the man to kiss him on the lips, how desperate and needy his voice sounds. Eddie bites down on his collarbone and Steve inhales the rest of his sentence. Then Eddie’s knee nudges between his legs, pressing against his crotch, a deliberate and insistent weight, and a ripple of heat spreads from the point of contact. There’s no way Eddie can’t feel it, the rigid length of Steve’s slowly hardening cock trapped in its denim prison.

“Is this what you want?” Eddie asks, hands already on the waistband of Steve’s jeans, lips dragging up once more, now hovering over Steve’s throat.

In a moment of clarity Steve isn’t often capable of in Eddie’s presence, he shakes his head and the older man freezes like he’s been stung. Steve seizes the opportunity and grabs Eddie’s narrow waist with both hands, yanking him forward. It feels a little bit like a firework exploding in Steve’s mind when their bodies collide and he’s more than a little relieved to find an answering hardness in Eddie’s jeans. He rolls his hips carefully against the other man and Eddie raises an eyebrow, though his breath catches in his throat with a dry grunt at the same time.

“…I want you…” Steve says in a voice like toffee and he darts forward to catch those teasing lips in a rough kiss.

As if to truly drive his point home, Steve wastes no time pushing Eddie towards the back of the Winnebago. The quality of the kissing suffers somewhat from the movement, teeth bumping awkwardly for a moment, but then Eddie’s knees knock against the couch behind him and he stumbles to avoid falling. Stable once more, he drapes his arms around Steve’s neck and tilts his head to the side slightly. Steve’s senses are instantly filled with the taste of red vines and cigarettes as Eddie’s tongue invades his mouth. He isn’t sure if Eddie is amazing at kissing or if it’s just amazing because it’s Eddie who is kissing him, but he’s kissing back hungrily nonetheless, panting and grunting into the mess of lips and tongues.

It’s not until Eddie’s wandering hands find the button of his jeans once more that he’s drawn back to his senses. He pulls away, extracting himself from the kiss with an audible pop, lips tingling, breathing heavily. Having never previously put up much resistance to Eddie’s whims in the bedroom, the older man looks understandably concerned when Steve catches his hands with his own and moves them away.

“…you good?” Eddie asks in a hushed breath, eyes dark and probing, expression carefully neutral though it’s clear he’s fighting a frown.

It takes a monumental effort on Steve’s part not to give in immediately. He’s already achingly hard, even the scratchy denim of his jeans feels oddly pleasant. It would barely take any effort at all on Eddie’s part, a saliva-wet hand, a few tugs, and he’d paint the inside of his jeans and thank the metal head in the same breath. But he knows he has to learn self-control at some point if he wants any hope of keeping Eddie by his side. He feels like a shaken up can of soda all the time in Eddie’s presence, the slightest provocation likely to set him off, and frankly he’s fucking embarrassed about it.

“I want you.” He replies, placing a hand on the older man’s chest and pushing him backwards. Eddie grunts at the impact, falling into the couch cushions, arms flailing. Steve is straddling him a moment later, perching one knee on either side of Eddie’s ripped jeans. It’s a bit precarious, kneeling on the edge of the couch, but Steve doesn’t intend to stay there for too long, just long enough to get Eddie heated up a bit more. It feels better to be in control, to have Eddie at his mercy instead of the usual dynamic they’ve fallen into. Eddie seems equal parts surprised and entertained by it all, grinning into the kiss that Steve immediately re-initiates the moment they’re on the same level again.

Eddie smells like the generic shampoo and bodywash Steve used earlier that morning. The scent clings to Steve nostrils as he drags flushed, damp lips over the rough planes of Eddie’s jaw. To avoid the temptation, Steve bypasses Eddie’s neck entirely. He can’t risk getting carried away and giving the guy a mess of hickeys, though he’d dearly like to. Instead he drags his hands down Eddie’s sides and up under the mesh fabric. Reverent fingers run across the soft planes of Eddie’s stomach and chest, careful to be gentle with the scars he knows are still sensitive. He can’t help but stop for a moment at the metal bar in Eddie’s right nipple, rolling it between his fingers, the cool metal a stark contrast to how warm his skin feels. Above him, Eddie lets out a satisfied little sigh.

A little impatient to get to the main event, he tugs at the hem of Eddie’s shirt, pushing it up with one hand to better access Eddie’s torso. His other hand is already fumbling with Eddie’s jeans, the heat radiating from the other man’s crotch palpable even through the thick denim. Eddie huffs a laugh as Steve fails to get the button undone after several frantic attempts. A moment later Steve feels a warm hand patting the top of his head and looks up to see Eddie’s amused face smiling down at him.

“I’ve got it, Sweetcheeks.” He grins. Eddie’s other hand pushes Steve’s away and the button and zipper are swiftly dealt with. Four little words and Steve gets exponentially hornier, the pressure building up inside him now bordering on painful. He pushes it down, dragging his eyes from Eddie’s and back towards the man’s crotch. With the help of some energetic shimmying, Eddie’s jeans and boxers are quickly pushed down to his knees, and Steve swallows hard in anticipation for what comes next.

For a while, honestly a bit longer than really necessary, Steve ignores Eddie’s cock, spreading his legs apart so he can place biting kisses against his inner thighs, instead. This is familiar territory, a favourite haunt of Steve’s, and Eddie’s leg trembles under his touch. Good, Steve thinks as he drags his tongue in one long strip up the opposite thigh for good measure, stopping just shy of Eddie’s junk. Eddie breathes out loudly through clenched teeth and when Steve brushes a finger against the underside of his straining cock Eddie groans, knee bouncing with pent-up energy.

Steve doesn’t need to look up to know that Eddie’s eyes are focused on him. He makes an effort to lick his lips as slowly and deliberately as possible, to push his hair off of his face and fix his shirt so he looks as good as possible before lowering his head and licking a hot, wet trail up the entire shaft. It had been one of the more shocking revelations of the past few months, that Steve enjoyed giving head. Now, after almost a week of nothing, he relishes the heat and weight of Eddie’s erection in his mouth, the soft flesh under his lips, the salty tang as he flicks his tongue across the tip.

It’s so quiet he can hear Eddie holding his breath, waiting for more, and Steve grins before giving him exactly that. He licks his lips again, holding Eddie in one hand, stroking gently with his thumb, as if contemplating how best to proceed. Deciding on the direct approach, since time is not on their side, he lowers his head and, after a bit more tongue play, takes as much as he can of Eddie’s length into his mouth, hollowing his cheeks and working his tongue as he drags upwards. He knows what Eddie likes by now, or at least, he’s spent the past two months on a very intense masterclass. It’s not long before he’s found the right rhythm, bobbing his head up and down slowly, maintaining pressure, one hand taking care of the length he can’t fit in his mouth without retching.

“Fucking hell Steve, forgot how good you look down there…” Eddie whines, one hand tangled in Steve’s hair. Steve snorts, unable to laugh properly with his mouth currently otherwise occupied. The older man grunts appreciatively. Steve swirls his tongue against him, slowly pulling upwards, keeping the suction until he releases Eddie’s length with a gentle pop, grinning up at the man. The hand in his hair tugs at the roots and Steve smiles at that, too, leaning into it. He’s so close to coming in his jeans it’s basically a foregone conclusion, but it’s fine, Steve thinks, as he leans up to steal a sloppy kiss before settling back between Eddie’s legs like it’s the only place in the world he wants to be.

“So good…fuck…”

It’s ridiculous really. Steve knows that most guys will say absolutely anything in the heat of the moment, but his heart still swells with joy at each breathy comment or grunted bit of praise from Eddie. The air of the Winnebago fills with heavy breathing and occasional expletives for a while, as Steve does his best to remind Eddie of what he’ll be missing for the next three days. He doesn’t even mind when Eddie’s hips buck upwards, pushing his cock far deeper into Steve’s mouth than he can handle, making his eyes swim. Narrowly avoiding retching, he hmm’s a response to Eddie’s fractured apologies and the vibrations make Eddie swear even louder than before.

By the time Eddie is gasping Steve’s name as he comes, Steve’s hair-trigger has already well and truly gone off. He carries on for a bit longer, gripping the thighs he’s sat between as they quiver with the aftershocks of pleasure. Stays there until Eddie is nudging his shoulder and telling him he can’t take anymore. Steve sits back on his heels, rubbing his jaw and swallowing as Eddie stares down at him, face flushed and eyes blown wide with pleasure. The cold wetness now spreading in his jeans is far from pleasant, but Eddie looks so good, draped across the couch, limbs warm and heavy with satisfaction. He clambers to his feet, sliding into the space next to Eddie and pulling his face towards him, kissing the man good and deep so Eddie can taste his own mess in Steve’s mouth.

“Ready for round two?” Eddie grins when Steve finally and reluctantly breaks the kiss. He’s already moving to get up from the couch, a hungry look on his face.

“Ah…no need.” Steve bites his lip, feeling the hot flush in his cheeks in opposition to the unpleasant chill in his jeans.

“Oh come on. Don’t make a man beg, Harrington.” Eddie frowns, and Steve would laugh if he wasn’t cringing internally already.

“It’s uh…taken care of itself, actually…” Steve mutters, staring at his lap. A silence drops heavily around them both, and then Eddie is right up in his face, one hand already snaking into the front of Steve’s jeans before he can stop the man. “Eds, don’t-“

“Christ Stevie…” Eddie whines, and Steve is so distracted by the wriggling fingers and hot palm now pressed against his junk he can’t make a sound. If he could come a second time in three minutes he most certainly would have the second Eddie’s hand made contact. “You couldn’t hold it in a little longer for me?” Eddie continues, looking genuinely disappointed. The hand is quickly extracted and Eddie looks at it for a moment. It glistens slightly with Steve’s cum, and then Eddie is licking his own palm and smacking Steve in the shoulder with his other hand. “Guess this’ll have to do.” He shrugs, gesturing to his soiled appendage and Steve regains the power of speech if only to demand that Eddie immediately wash his hands.

“Eds, no, wash your fucking hand. Don’t be disgusting, c’mon. It’s dirty-don’t you dare lick your hand again…Eddie!” Steve is laughing so hard there are tears in his eyes as he chases Eddie around the Winnebago. The older man doggedly avoids him, licking a slimy finger with apparent relish. It’s equal parts disgusting and endearing, and damn for a second it really sinks in just how hard Steve has fallen. When he finally snatches Eddie’s wrist he practically drags him to the sink, shoving his hand under the tap even as Eddie squawks and whines.

They end up collapsing on the couch next to each other again, breathless with laughter. Steve’s shirt is damp from Eddie using it as a hand towel, Eddie’s chest is damp from Steve splashing him in retaliation. A comfortable silence falls over them and Steve gives in once again to his ever-present desire for closeness and physical contact, leaning against Eddie’s side, head on his shoulder. Without a pause Eddie’s arm is around Steve’s shoulders pulling him close, hand resting firmly on his chest.

“Eds?” Steve tentatively breaks the silence after several long minutes, having lost the argument raging inside his own head. He sits up straight, like maybe if his posture is better Eddie will be more likely to say yes.

“Yeah?” Eddie shifts in his seat slightly, fiddling with one of the rips in his jeans.

“Do you wanna watch a movie together…?” It comes out all in one rush of air, barely comprehensible. Steve bites his lip and closes his eyes, waiting uncomfortably for Eddie’s response.

“Sure…don’t think we’ve got time for a full movie today though, the nuggets’ll be back any minute.” Eddie’s eyes flick up to catch Steve’s, glittering with amusement. The unspoken joke isn’t lost on him, they both know what usually happens when they watch movies together.

The wriggling pit of nerves in Steve’s stomach seems to get bigger, wrigglier. He grits his teeth and tries again, determined.

“N-not right now, I meant, like, when we’re back in Hawkins o-or something.”

At the mention of Hawkins the light in Eddie’s eyes dies, along with the smile pulling at the corners of his lips. Steve’s heart drops, like his own joy is tangentially connected to Eddie’s, which is probably at least partly true by this point.

“Ah, well…I mean…I sorta…” Eddie mumbles, inching away from the embrace, arm leaving Steve’s shoulder and that fucking stings. Steve has one hand reaching out for the man before he can stop himself. Then Eddie turns back and a different smile is plastered across his face, like a bad disguise. “Do you even know what movies are out right now, Barbie?”

“Uhm…” Steve starts, frantically trying to remember any of the posters hanging up in Family Video the last time he’d worked a shift. Eddie laughs and pats him on the shoulder before he can respond, the hand doesn’t linger this time.

“Didn’t think so. Anyway shouldn’t you get changed? Or were you planning on waltzing around with cum in your jeans all day?”

“…Shit. You’re right, I should clean up…”

“Get going then. You’re a wonderful distraction Sugar, but daddy needs to finish packing.”

It’s almost enough to stop him in his tracks, Eddie referring to himself as ‘daddy’ does something truly unholy to Steve’s intestines, but he shakes it off and gets to his feet. He’s got an armful of clean clothes and a hand on the door when he gathers the strength to speak up again.

“Just…think about it, yeah? The movie thing, I mean.” He doesn’t intend for it to sound as pathetic as it does. The request hangs in the air between them, heavy with potential, Steve’s hopeless heart on the chopping block, served up on a silver platter if only Eddie could read between the lines. He clearly doesn’t, waving an acknowledging hand in the air without a word, already focused on wrestling too many clothes into a too-small bag. Steve watches for another moment before going back to the hotel room, feeling a horrible mix of disappointed, embarrassed and unpleasantly sticky.

***

By the time Steve returns, freshly showered, redressed, and sullen, Nancy is busy moving her belongings into the Winnebago and Argyle, Jonathan and Eddie are sharing a joint against the side of the pizza van. He gives the three of them an acknowledging nod, which is lazily returned, and turns his attention to the RV. He doesn’t really have it in him to talk to Eddie again, though it’s also the only thing in the world he wants to do. The guy looks like a goddamn goth Christmas present, tantalisingly wrapped up especially for Steve. He glances back at the three of them and Eddie appears to be in deep conversation with Argyle now. The two of them speaking as much with their hands as with their mouths. Jonathan keeps sliding further down the side of the van, a vague smile on his face as he nods along to whatever the other two are saying. Steve is sure he’ll end up on the ground if no one stops him soon.

“There you are! Can you go tell the kids to hurry up packing? We need to leave in 20 minutes if we want to reach the next campsite before evening.” Nancy huffs, dumping an armful of bedding onto the couch and brushing her hair off of her flushed face. Steve nods, trying not to think about what happened on those same couch cushions less than an hour earlier.

They don’t leave for almost another hour. Eddie joins Argyle and Jonathan in the pizza van, whilst Nancy takes over the passenger seat of the Winnebago. They don’t have time to say goodbyes, Nancy is too busy looking at her watch and tutting every few minutes that they just pack up and haul out. The party are full of candy and soda from their shopping trip, practically bouncing off the walls with excitement for their next stopping point, a campsite located next to the beach.

Argyle rolls down their window to wave goodbye to everyone, then Jonathan yanks open the sliding side door and he and Eddie wave, too. Eddie leans almost his whole body out of the opening and throws up the horns, waggling his tongue at them all, laughing maniacally. Screeching guitar music is already blaring from the sound system and the van speeds off ahead. The cloud of exhaust fumes, road dust, and worry it leaves behind seems to work its way deep into Steve’s chest, choking his lungs.

***

The vehicles follow behind each other for a few miles, Steve pushing the Winnebago to speeds it probably shouldn’t be able to reach in order to keep up with Argyle’s driving. Then the van turns right at a large intersection whilst Nancy instructs Steve to carry on straight ahead and he loses sight of them almost immediately.

Nancy breathes a sigh of relief, leaning over to the centre console and rifling through the music collection. She doesn’t speak, just chucks in a Carpenter's tape and settles back into her seat. Steve doesn’t ask what she’s so relieved about, he’s sure it’ll just come out sounding bitter and resentful, which is how he feels about the whole fucking situation if he’s honest. If he hadn’t agreed to this stupid trip he’d have spent the past week continuing to get his brains fucked out by Hawkin’s finest dungeon master. He wouldn’t have had space in his head to consider anything more complex than what filling to put in their sandwiches between trysts and what flavour of condom to use next. Now here he is on the opposite side of the country, not even in the same vehicle as the man. His head is full of all the things Eddie might get up to whilst away at the music festival, his heart heavy with all the things he didn’t say to the man sooner.

How do you tell someone that their mere presence makes breathing a little easier? How do you tell someone that, even after fighting incomprehensible monsters from another world and almost dying several times, your biggest fear, the thing that keeps you awake at night, is the thought of them not being around anymore? The thought of them not wanting to be around anymore? More importantly, Steve mulls as he stares out at the seemingly endless stretch of highway he’s currently driving down, how do you tell someone all that when you’ve spent the last few months staunchly avoiding the conversation and you’re starting to think that maybe, just maybe, the other person has been avoiding it too?

***

They arrive at the campsite just after the sun starts to set, casting long shadows on the entire area. There are several other RVs already parked up and some very expensive looking ones parked on larger plots further down. Steve takes care of hooking the Winnebago up to the water system and paying the sour-faced lady at the admissions desk for the next two nights. When he jogs back to the others most of the teens are hovering around Nancy, begging to go down to the beach, a five-minute walk away from the campsite.

“We’re not children! We’ll be fine on our own.” Dustin huffs irritably.

“It’s literally right there.” Lucas gestures, and a seagull squawks overhead as if to emphasise his point.

“You can trust us.” Mike insists.

“Sure.” Steve scoffs. “I watched you guys try to push each other off the Grand Canyon yesterday so yeah, you’re not going on your own.” To settle the point he crosses his arms, resting all his weight on one hip, staring at them all as if daring them to argue.

“We still have to set up the tents and make dinner.” Nancy hesitantly looks between Steve and the Party.

“I’ll take care of it.” Steve huffs, surprising not only the gathered teens and Nancy, but himself as well. He isn’t really in the mood for hanging out with the group, even if he hasn’t seen Nancy for months and should probably catch up with what she’s been doing. After a few minutes, Will and El also volunteer to stay behind and help out. Steve isn’t sure if it’s to keep him company or if they genuinely aren’t interested in the beach. Then he remembers that they were living out here only a few months prior and figures they’re probably not as interested in all that California has to offer as the rest of the kids are.

Dinner is spaghetti and garlic bread, because El wants to help cook and Steve can’t think of anything else. She’s very enthusiastic with a can-opener, thankfully they only lose one tin of chopped tomatoes in the process. Whilst El is put in charge of stirring the sauce so it doesn’t catch on the bottom of the pot, Steve helps Will get the final tent up, by which time the sun has fully set and a few of the nearby RVs are lit up, muffled laughter and music seeping into the air.

“Should we set up a campfire?” Will asks after placing the final sleeping bag in the girls tent and patting down his jeans. Steve shakes his head.

“Not allowed here, apparently.”

“Probably for the best, Eddie’s the only one who knows how to build one.” Will sighs and Steve wonders if feeling nauseous hearing the guy's name is just another thing he’s going to have to get used to.

***

Nancy orders all the teens to bed far earlier than Steve had been doing up to this point. Apparently it’s because they need to get up early the next day if they want to visit all the places on their extensive sightseeing list, but Steve is starting to think it’s just because Nancy wants some time to herself. She strikes up a seemingly mundane conversation with him when they’re back inside the Winnebago, asking if he slept well and how the trip has been so far, but then the questions start to twist in a direction Steve isn’t sure he likes. When she starts asking about his dating life Steve excuses himself to go for a walk. He claims it’s to ‘scout the area’ for the following day, but mostly it’s to get away from P.I. Nancy Wheeler and her leading questions. It’s also to get away from the inside of the Winnebago, which smells uncomfortably like Eddie. The occasional whiff of familiar dollar store deodorant is creating a worrying turbulence in his crotch that he absolutely doesn’t want to entertain with Nancy around.

It's nice out, the last heat of the day rising from the sun beaten earth and asphalt. There are street lights periodically placed along the edge of the campsite, which Steve follows aimlessly. When he reaches the beach he stops to remove his sneakers and socks, the warm sand oddly soothing to his weary mind and he keeps walking for far longer than he’d intended.

If Robin were around she’d probably be telling him he’s acting like a complete idiot. Steve Harrington, King of Hawkins high, renowned ladies man, inexplicably still one of the most eligible guys in town despite working at Family Video and having little to no prospects. All that, and he can’t ask a guy out on a date like a normal fucking human. What did he think Eddie was going to say when he invited him to the movies? Screw that, he hadn’t even invited the guy to the movies, he’d just asked if they could watch a movie together. They’d watched plenty of movies together already, some of which Steve even vaguely remembered. Of course Eddie hadn’t taken it seriously, as far as he knew Steve was just asking if they could fuck some time soon. There’s no one else to blame for this particular failure, the fault is entirely Steve’s. Frustrated, he kicks a rock in his path, succeeding only in hurting his toe and nudging the object a few inches away. Next time, he grumbles as he turns to head back to the Winnebago, limping slightly on his bruised foot, next time he won’t fuck it up.

Chapter Text

Steve jumps a moment too late as Lucas tosses the ball with practised ease. It brushes the tips of his outstretched fingers but it’s no use, a moment later the ball is bouncing off the backboard and neatly swishing through the hoop.

“Best five out of seven?” Steve pants, clutching his side but still determined not to let Lucas win.

“Sore loser much?”

Steve doesn’t rise to the bait, turning instead to retrieve the ball and set up for the next game. Twenty minutes later, Lucas sneaks past him once more, takes a running jump and slams another two-pointer, bringing the score to 6 – 1 in Lucas’ favour. Steve gives up completely. Sweaty and exhausted in the early morning sun he lies flat on his back on the ground, staring up at the cloudless blue sky as he tries to regain both his breath and the dregs of his dignity.

“Need a hand, old-timer?” Lucas’s grinning face looms over him after a moment. He has the basketball tucked under one arm, the other reaching out to help Steve to his feet. Steve slaps it away in mock rage and Lucas laughs.

“Who’re you calling old? I’m just…catching my breath.” Steve huffs, chest heaving from the exertions of the previous hour.

After discovering a basketball court right next to the campsite the previous night, Lucas had eagerly challenged him to a one-on-one game. He had then reminded Steve of the challenge the moment he stepped out of the Winnebago for some fresh air at 6am that morning.

At the time, playing basketball against Lucas had sounded much more appealing than Steve’s previous plan for the morning. That plan had involved sneaking off for a sad wank in the campsite showers, followed by drowning his wank-related shame in several strong mugs of coffee. Now, however, he’s starting to regret not going with his original plan. It’s a little after 7am, most of the others are still asleep or only just beginning to rise, and Steve already feels like he’s run a marathon. Infuriatingly, Lucas is barely out of breath, and actually starts jogging in place as he waits for Steve to get up.

“This is what happens when you stop coming out to train with me, man.” Lucas continues. He’s still looking down at Steve, who isn’t quite sure if he can get up off the asphalt on his own just yet. His legs feel distinctly wobbly. “You’re out of practice, and out of shape.”

Steve would like to argue that he’s had more important things to do (Eddie) or that he’s had other things on his mind (Eddie) or even that he’s twenty-damn-years old and can’t keep waking up at 5am to go running with a High School student. The thing is he really enjoys training with Lucas, or he did until the choice became ‘training with Lucas’ or ‘shagging Eddie’ because how is he ever supposed to turn down the second option in favour of the first?

“Yeah, yeah…little shit.” Steve huffs, reaching out to half-heartedly slap at Lucas’ ankles. Lucas dodges with ease, cackling with laughter. The teen clearly holds no grudge about the whole thing, which Steve is grateful for, though it doesn’t make the guilty feeling in his stomach any easier to handle.

He’s not that out of shape, honestly, can still hold his own in a fight and run rings around most of his friends. The simple fact is that without school sports teams, gym class, or his father pushing him to be the best, captain of the team or don’t bother and all that shit, Steve’s drive to maintain a peak level of fitness has lessened dramatically. As long as he can swing his bat with enough force to damage a Demodog he’s really not bothered anymore. He’s about to say the same to Lucas, who is now doing jumping jacks a few feet away, when they both hear raised voices in the distance.

“Oh man…what’s happened now?” Lucas sighs, as the sounds of El and Mike yelling gets a little louder. Steve pushes himself up, turning towards the Winnebago in time to watch the figure of El stomping away from the tents. Max follows after her and Steve clambers to his feet with a grunt.

“Probably something stupid.” Steve says, trying to decide if he should go after El and Max or return to the others. Thankfully Lucas makes the decision for him, scooping up the basketball and jogging off towards the girls.

“Breakfast is in 20!” Steve calls out to his retreating back, before turning himself towards the Winnebago and whatever shit-show of a teenage melodrama awaits him there.

***

Without Eddie around, the Winnebago feels depressingly hollow. Like a pie with no filling or a cassette player without a tape. Like Eddie was the big warm nucleus at the centre of their group, basking them in his comforting presence. At least it feels that way to Steve. He isn’t sure the others feel the same. After Mike and El stop arguing, they all seem happy enough wandering around visiting different sight-seeing spots and playing card games in the back of the Winnebago whilst Steve and Nancy share driving duties. Nancy has an annotated map with a daily itinerary for them all to follow, because of course she does, so Steve doesn’t really have much to do other than drive and walk around and think about Eddie.

He’s still in charge of cooking, because Mike kicks up such a fuss when Nancy offers to do it he almost goes purple in the face. It’s unclear if Nancy is a terrible cook or if Mike just had a bad experience of Nancy’s cooking in the past, but the party unanimously agrees that Steve should be the one taking care of meals for the foreseeable future. He doesn’t really mind, it’s another thing to do to help the time pass, and he’s actually growing to enjoy cooking. At home it’s a chore, a necessary task if he doesn’t want to starve, but on the road, with seven other mouths to feed it’s rewarding, fun, even.

They follow Nancy’s lead the first day, ticking off four places on the list she’s made. El’s collection of fridge magnets grows with each stop. By now the others are also in on it, trying to find the ugliest or weirdest designs possible for El to choose from. The tiny fridge in the Winnebago is quickly running out of space for them all. Steve has to creatively rearrange some of them that afternoon as he tries to fit El’s latest addition, a misshapen bear in sunglasses and board shorts.

Unfortunately despite all of Nancy’s detailed planning and effort, by the end of the first day the party had had enough of visiting historically or culturally important tourist spots. They all seem much more interested in messing about on the beach or visiting the arcade a few blocks from the campsite. The arcade has the exact same games as the Palace Arcade back in Hawkins, leaving Steve wondering why he even bothered driving everyone to the other side of the country in the first place. Nancy puts up a token show of resistance, but she, too, seems preoccupied with other things and quickly folds to the will of the group.

***

The second day without Eddie dawns just as bright, hot, and Eddie-less as the previous one. Steve winces as he sits up in bed, multiple joints popping and cracking as he moves. The scars on his stomach are red and angry for reasons he cannot fathom. Sometimes they just do that, no matter how careful Steve is with them. He gave up trying to understand what caused them to flare up months ago. He’s fished a tub of ointment out of his duffel bag and is gingerly applying it when Nancy enters the Winnebago. She’s already dressed, hair wet and pulled back in a scrunchie, clutching a towel and her toiletries bag to her chest.

“Morning.” Steve hums, still paying most of his attention to his abdomen. Nancy parrots the greeting, shuffling past. She tosses the bag onto her bed and hangs the towel up over the door to the washroom before putting the kettle on to boil and getting out two mugs.

“Good shower?” Steve asks, searching through his bag for a loose shirt to wear. The first thing he finds is the one Eddie lent him when they were in hospital together. A baggy grey t-shirt with ‘Corroded Coffin’ scrawled across the front in permanent marker. The fabric is soft and worn, it’s the best sleeping shirt Steve has, he basically lived in it before he got discharged and the bandages came off. It’s quickly pushed back into the bag and he settles on a plain polo shirt instead. It’s not nearly as comfortable but since the teens want to spend the morning on the beach, Steve doesn’t plan on wearing it for long.

Nancy seems lost in her own little world and Steve repeats his question twice before she snaps out of it, turning to him with a look of surprise on her face.

“Y-yeah…it was fine.” She mutters, pouring two mugs of coffee and bringing them over. Steve has dressed and folded away the beds in the time it’s taken Nancy to make the drinks, he accepts the mug with a nod.

“Are you coming down to the beach, too?” Steve asks, leaning against the kitchen counter because sitting down might aggravate his skin.

“The…beach?” Nancy frowns, and Steve is honestly starting to get worried now.

“The brats wanted to go to the beach this morning, remember? They bugged us about it all last night.”

Nancy’s frown remains but she nods like she remembers, though Steve is certain she does not. It’s not like her to be so forgetful, so distracted. Still, Steve has his own shit to worry about, shit that pushes to the forefront of his mind when he turns and catches sight of Eddie’s battered guitar case leaning up against the back of the driver’s seat. His stomach constricts unpleasantly, train of thought flying from the guitar to Eddie, to the insanely revealing outfit Eddie was wearing when he left, to the music festival and finally to the condoms and lube in Eddie’s bag.

Because Steve is apparently incapable of not letting bad things eat at him from the inside out, several hours later he’s still agonising over what Eddie could be getting up to at the festival. They claimed a spot on the beach early, and now are hemmed in on all sides by other families and groups of vacationing teens. Steve is sitting in the shade of a large beach umbrella, having given up trying to turn off his brain with water sports. Nancy is reading a thick book about investigative journalism a few feet away from him, her face almost completely hidden under an almost comically large sunhat.

The beach is packed and whilst his mind worries about Eddie, Steve takes up people watching in addition to keeping an eye on the party, who are playing frisbee in the shallows. A family of three wander past, their tiny child tottering along in the middle, stooping to pick up a shell and babbling incomprehensibly to their parents. The father leans down to get a better look at their child’s new treasure, adding it to an already overflowing collection held in a small plastic bucket. A moment later all three of them continue past in search of more. Beyond them a group of girls in their twenties are sunning themselves, some having a loud, boisterous conversation with a group of rowdy guys a few spaces away. A gang of kids rushes past giggling, kicking up sand and waving wooden swords around, playing pirates. There’s a full game of beach volleyball happening to the far left of Steve’s eyeline and a few surfers weave their way through waves much further out to sea.

One of the party breaks off from the rest and Steve watches as Mike Wheeler trudges back up the sand towards him. He flops down on an empty towel with a sigh, pulling a can of soda from the nearby cool box and drinking deeply. The rest of the group show no indication of stopping playing. Even Will, who usually sticks with Mike, is still enthusiastically jumping to try and catch the next frisbee toss, colliding with El, both of them falling into the water laughing.

“You good, Wheeler?” Steve finally asks. Mike has been sitting next to him in grumpy silence for a while, hugging his gangly legs to his chest.

“Yeah, yeah…” Mike mutters, squinting out at the ocean where the rest of the gang are still splashing about.

“Not a big frisbee guy?” Steve continues, attempting to coax the truth out rather than ask directly.

“No, it’s uhmmm…” Mike pauses, glancing at Steve, looking back at the sea then turning back to Steve once more. “El’s still kinda mad at me.” He admits with a sigh, hanging his head.

Of all the gang, Steve struggled the most to connect with Mike. Likely because in Mike’s eyes Steve is always going to be ‘the guy his sister dated’, and also ‘the guy he caught climbing up the side of the house’ and probably ‘that popular jerk’. Mike is decidedly not one of the popular kids at Hawkins High, in the same way that Dustin isn’t and Eddie definitely wasn’t. The unspoken rules of society dictate that Mike should therefore hate Steve, who was, for his sins, one of the popular crowd. Maybe Mike just didn’t get the memo that they don’t follow those stupid rules anymore, that saving the world together sort of abolishes all those pointless social hierarchies that high schoolers are pushed to abide by.

Steve hesitates to speak for a moment because honestly the last thing in the world he wants to do is give Mike Wheeler advice about dating. He doesn’t even feel qualified enough, considering his own pathetic situation, but Nancy is deep in her book, lost to the world and Steve really doesn’t want to have to deal with El and Mike fighting for the rest of the trip.

“I don’t get it, it’s like nothing I say or do is ever right. She’s so hard to understand.” Mike sighs, as if the weight of the whole world is on his back.

“Really?” Steve raises an eyebrow at this.

Mike rambles on for a bit, hastily trying to detail exactly how and why Eleven is so hard to understand. Steve lets it all wash over him for a moment, the ranting of an inexperienced teen boy, new to the world of relationships, likely having only learnt about it in movies and on TV.

“Want some advice?” Steve asks, and then continues to give the advice without waiting for a response. “People are usually easier to understand if you listen to what they’re saying. Like, actually listen. Like, if a girl tells you to ‘go away’ 10 times out of 10 she wants you to go away and leave her alone.”

Mike’s cheeks flush pink and he scowls, clearly not appreciative of Steve’s snarky attitude.

“But she gets mad about the weirdest stuff, like, I forgot to say goodnight to her and she blew up at me like I’d done something awful. I just don’t get it…” Mike whines, running a hand through his mess of long hair.

“What do you think love is, Wheeler?”

The question seems to stump the teen, as Steve had expected it would. He gives Mike some time to think, and at length he speaks again, sounding unsure.

“Uhh…like kissing and holding hands a-and when they’re not around you miss them and think about them a lot and stuff?”

“Anything else?” Steve pushes, unsurprised by the simplistic answer.

“I guess…when you think someone is really pretty, and you want to spend all your time with them?”

“And you love El?”

“Y-yeah…” Mike’s response is muffled as he buries his face in his knees before speaking. Steve sighs heavily, patting him on the back.

“When you love someone, you wanna make them happy, right?”

Mike remains silent, but nods his head slightly.

“Okay, so if saying goodnight makes El happy, then you should want to say goodnight to her. It might be weird to you, but it’s important to her, and if you can’t do that then…” Steve bites his lips slightly, wondering if maybe he’s about to overstep but unable to walk it back now. “Then…maybe you’re not ready to be dating someone.”

Mike’s shoulders tense and Steve panics slightly, speaking again, hoping to diffuse the tension.

“I don’t know if you want to be taking dating advice from me though, I’m not exactly having much luck in that department myself right now.”

“Are you kidding me?” Mike looks up, incredulous. “You’re Steve Harrington, you’re like a legend.”

Steve scoffs, wondering when, if ever, his high school persona would stop haunting him.

“I mean, I was going to ask Eddie for advice. Y’know, because I’ve never heard him complain about his girlfriend or anything.” A terse affirmative hum is all Steve can manage in response, Mike pushes forward without noticing. “Maybe I’ll ask him when he gets back… He seems really happy, right? Since he got a girlfriend I mean.”

It takes a second to register that Mike is looking at him, expecting some kind of response. Not trusting his voice, he just nods slowly in agreement. Mike nods energetically back.

“I’m happy for him, man. As long as he doesn’t cancel DnD to hang out with her…oh man, what if he gets her to play, too? Wait, what if she already plays? Damn…I bet she’s super cool, she’s probably in a band, or rides a motorcycle or something…” Mike trails off wistfully and Steve would really like to leave, thank you very much. He’s got about ten seconds of restraint left in him before he screams or throws up. Mercifully, Mike chooses this precise moment to change the topic completely and a minute later Steve breathes a sigh of relief, feeling slightly dazed as he listens to Mike tell him what he wants to eat for lunch.

***

He’s been stuck in the arcade for over an hour already, tasked with keeping an eye on the kids. He’s mostly been watching El and Max clean the place out of claw machine prizes, certain that El’s abilities are being abused in the pursuit of cuddly toys and action figures. A few months ago Steve would have been more than happy to spend a day in the arcade getting hit on by cute girls. Now he’s sat on his own like a loser, thinking about how much better things would be if Eddie were around. He’s already turned down two pretty blondes in sundresses, and felt his heart skip several beats after catching sight of a guy with long brown hair in a sleeveless vest smoking outside the building. Unfortunately the party seems in no rush to leave any time soon, so Steve is stuck in the corner with a drink and a book (one of Eddie’s fantasy things that he can’t make sense of no matter how much he tries) like the world's lamest chaperone.

“Steve, Steve! Do you have any quarters on you?” Dustin runs over, struggling to be heard over the incessant noise of arcade games and 70s disco bops. Steve sips his can of soda and peers up at his small friend.

“I have some, yeah.” He answers, taking another sip of his ginger ale as Dustin practically vibrates with pent-up energy in front of him.

“Great, can I have them?” It sounds less like a request and more like a demand. Steve pauses mid sip and lowers his drink.

“No.”

“What? C’mon, you said you had quarters. I’m so close to getting the high score!” Dustin whines indignantly. Steve folds his arms and shrugs, kicking his feet up onto the chair next to him.

“That’s not my problem.”

“Seriously? Steve, c’mon…you’re, like, super loaded. It’s just a couple of quarters.”

“Shoulda thought of that before you started running your mouth.” Steve huffs. It comes out louder than he intended and Dustin’s face scrunches into an incredulous frown.

“What?”

Now that he’s said it, Steve’s irritation at first hearing what Dustin had said to Eddie rears its ugly head again. Being stuck in the arcade on his own, three days without Eddie, the constant worry in the back of his mind about what Eddie is up to at the festival, all Steve’s pent-up frustration condenses into a single point. It’s not mature of him, he should definitely take the higher road, shouldn’t pick a fight with Dustin over stuff the kid doesn’t even know about, but it’s too late. He can already feel it snaking up the back of his throat, bitter and resentful.

“You convinced Eddie that me and him were fighting! And you forced him to go into that stupid haunted house when he clearly didn’t want to and then plotted with the others to abandon us in there! What the hell, dude? Not fucking cool!” Steve bites, words tripping over words before he can process exactly what he’s saying. He stands up, not sure where he’s going to go but unable to stay sitting any longer. “So no, I’m not going to give you any fucking quarters okay? Ask the other brats, maybe one of them will take pity on you and your ‘almost’ high score.” He swings his jacket over one shoulder and stomps away towards the exit, leaving a shell-shocked Dustin in his wake.

By the time he’s standing in the parking lot, he’s already regretting the outburst. He doesn’t regret calling the kid out, sometimes Dustin needs taking down a peg or two, after all. But still he feels bad, the anger in his gut quickly curdling into shame. Yelling at the people he cares about, regardless of how he himself is feeling, is not a good look. That was the old Steve, he knows he’s better than that now.

Dustin finds him ten minutes later, sitting on a bench outside and longing for a cigarette. Maybe not a cigarette, actually, maybe he’s just pining for the taste of cigarettes, the smell of cigarettes clinging to someone else’s clothes and hair and the feel of guitar-rough fingertips against his feverish skin. Dustin plops down next to him and Steve scrambles out of thoughts of Eddie, feeling his cheeks sting.

“I’m sorr-'' Dustin starts. Steve cuts him off immediately.

“Apologise to Eddie, not me.”

“Look, I really thought you two were-“

“Well you thought wrong, okay?” Steve huffs a bit more aggressively than intended, suddenly exhausted despite it being barely 2pm. “Don’t try that shit again, I’m serious.”

He’s not sure if it’s the tone of his voice, or the look on his face that does it, but Dustin nods solemnly in response without any further arguing. Another wave of sickly regret floods Steve and he fishes a few dollar bills out of his pocket and shoves them into Dustin’s hand.

“Here, go win your stupid game.” He says with a sigh.

Dustin hesitates for a minute, but Steve has never seen the kid turn down a freebie before and true to form he rushes back into the arcade a minute later. Left alone on the bench outside, Steve replays the whole exchange in his head a few times. It definitely could have gone better, he isn’t even sure if Dustin took him seriously. He thinks about it so much that by the time he re-enters the arcade the seed of pain sitting at the back of his skull has evolved into a full-blown pressure headache.

***

The sky above him is muddy grey streaked with red. Here and there ominous black specks move across it, circling him overhead faster than any bird Steve knows. There’s an awfully familiar taste in the back of his throat, bile, blood, ash, and he sits up with a resigned sigh. The upside-down stares back at him from all sides. Already, tentacle-like roots creep towards him over the arid basin of what should be lovers lake.

Sometimes Dream Steve is tricked for a while into believing he never left the place. That his life in Hawkins is the dream and the foetid landscape around him the reality he is trying to escape. Sometimes he forgets all about Hawkins, the dream too real to ignore, he searches for his friends and at length, finds them. One by one he locates their corpses, weeps, rails, pounds the dirt, digs graves with his bare hands and says tearful goodbyes. Eddie’s is always the worst. Once, the only thing he could find of the guy was a bloody bandana gripped in Dustin’s fist. He buried it anyway. This dream is much the same, except Steve knows, in that vague half-formed way, that he’s dreaming. Unfortunately being stuck in the upside down is still extremely unpleasant, dream or not.

On his feet now, he paces the small circle of clear earth he awoke upon. In the far distance he can hear something, a rhythmic thudding, grinding noise that takes him far too long to place. Eventually, because the noise is getting a bit annoying honestly and he doesn’t have much else to do, he turns and starts walking in the direction it seems to be coming from. He moves in that strange way you move in dreams, one moment he’s walking and the next he has arrived, yet he remembers an entire walk that never happened.

The bloody moon sits low over the trailer park. Ah, yeah that tracks. He scuffs the dirt road, kicking some stones loose and they tumble away loudly. The next moment the stones are dice rolling across a decrepit table and he looks up to see he’s not alone in the old Munson trailer.

“Just leave him down, he’s useless anyway.” Dream Dustin leers. It’s a horrible puppet-like version of the boy, made from black vines and ichor, cap and clothes filthy and ragged.

“Oh, that’s not fair. I like playing with him too much.” Croons Dream Eddie, leaning over the crumbling table to place a clammy hand on Steve’s cheek. Dream Eddie is the colour of putrefaction, dried blood and dirt staining one side of his face, Demobat wounds bleeding freely. The way he’d looked when Steve had hoisted him into his arms and carried him out of the place, only somehow ten times worse.

Steve looks down at the facsimile of a game table in front of him, ageing papers and figurines litter it, his own miniature knocked over. His dice are gone, all he can feel is the cold creeping through him from Eddie’s touch.

The next moment he’s on the couch and the old TV is playing out buzzing static. It’s like he’s tied down, limbs refusing to listen to any order. In his leaden state all he can see is the TV, its cracked screen still bright, fuzzy static wobbling across the glass. In his peripheral vision he can just make out writhing vines and a figure struggling against them.

A second later, or maybe an hour, a day, a lifetime, he’s standing outside the trailer, glancing back at Dustin and Eddie. Not the horrific dream versions from before, these ones are whole and well. It’s that day again, he’s going with Nancy and Robin to head to Creel’s house, leaving Dustin and Eddie to work the distraction. He’s stuck hearing himself telling them not to be heroes, stuck parroting his every move and word exactly like before. He turns to leave, Eddie calls out, he sees the same wash of jumbled emotions cross the man’s face before he lands on the words.

“…”

Nothing. Eddie opens his mouth, forms the words and…No sound, nothing but frantic buzzing in Steve’s ears. The others seem nonplussed, Eddie smiles and speaks again, the buzzing only increases, it’s hammering against his eardrums now, pounding into his brain. He reaches up to cover his ears, to try and block out the cacophony and… He’s awake. Real hands moving to cover his real ears, sun pouring in through the floral curtains. Nancy removes the kettle from the stove, it continues to whistle and spit for a moment longer and then she’s placing a mug on the floor beside his bed. Her expression is neutral but it’s clear Steve has overslept according to whatever timetable Nancy is following.

He sits up, ignoring the cold sweat clinging to the back of his neck and trying to gather himself. He doesn’t have bad dreams every night, can’t predict when they’ll happen or what causes them. He learnt two things about his sleeping habits during his most recent stint in the hospital. Firstly, sleeping pills do fuck all, in fact they tend to encourage the dreams to occur even more often. Secondly, sleeping with Eddie stops the dreams almost completely. It might be that sleeping with anyone helps to ward off the dreams, but Steve hasn’t tested it on anyone else, and frankly doesn’t intend to.

The first mouthful of coffee tastes like mildew and ash. He’s throwing it up in the kitchen sink a second later. Violent retches upending his already empty stomach. Nancy pats his back gently until he recovers. It’s not like the others don’t do weird shit sometimes, too. On the whole, nightmares and random bouts of nausea are pretty tame within their group.

Nancy doesn’t say anything, doesn’t ask anything. It’s a relief not to have to explain himself, to just rinse his mouth out and go back to his bed and act like the last five minutes didn’t happen. Still, it doesn’t make the lingering memory of the dream go away, nor the tremor in his hands that persists well into the afternoon.

***

“What’s going on with you Nance?” Steve sighs, breaking thirty minutes of staunch silence between the two of them. The crunch of dirt and rocks under their shoes fills the air as he waits for a response. It hasn’t escaped Steve’s notice that Nancy has seemed off for a few days, maybe even since the day they met up at the diner.

Nancy glances at him out of the corner of her eye, squinting like she’s trying to read his mind. He tries again, wondering if maybe he worded the question wrong.

“You’ve been really distant and distracted. Is something wrong? I might not be the number one choice for heart-to-hearts, but…you can talk to me, if you want?”

Nancy stops walking and inhales deeply, closing her eyes for a moment.

“…If I tell you something, do you swear not to tell anyone else?”

“Of course.” Steve nods, suddenly apprehensive.

“I…I think I need to break up with Jonathan.” Nancy breathes, as if letting go of a heavy weight.

“Oh.” Steve replies, because he isn’t sure what else to say.

“It’s just…” Nancy continues, starting along the path again. “We’re both in really different places right now, and we’re going to college soon and, I…” She trails off for a moment, Steve remains quiet. “I finally feel like I know who I am and who I wanna be, and…I just want to focus on school and friends and not worry about relationships for a while, y’know?” She looks at him, her expression is defiant but she still looks unsure, like she’s asking him for permission rather than stating her intent. Steve thinks for a moment, because some things require a more in-depth answer than the first stupid thing to come into his head.

“I get it. People change, right?” He says after a pause, and she nods thoughtfully.

“It’s like, a few months ago, Buckley was talking about how he and I are this perfect power couple who’ll be together forever and… and ever since then I can’t get that thought out of my head. I don’t wanna end up like my parents, I don’t want the house and the yard, the white picket fence and the two-point-five kids… But I think that’s what he wants, deep down.”

“He’s big on family, yeah.” Steve says, trying not to think about his own ideas for the future and the mortifying confessions he’d made about them to Nancy in the past. His own words ring in his ears: People change.

“I know what I have to do, what I should do… But I guess I’m still trying to convince myself it’s the right thing to do… I love him, I don’t want to hurt him. I just feel so trapped… D’you ever feel like that?”

“…sometimes.” Steve says. He doesn’t add “more than you could ever understand.”

“So…you think I should end things, then?”

“Definitely not my decision to make, Nance.” Steve chides.

Nancy sighs, pausing on the path and looking straight at Steve. A year ago Steve would have been captivated, Nancy is beautiful, after all, and there’s a weight of connection and lost chances between them. He might have even outright told her to break up with Jonathan, hoping for a chance to get the girl back into his own arms, but all he sees now is a friend struggling to make a tough decision. Though, judging by the look on her face he’s pretty sure she’s already made it.

“You’ve changed, Steve Harrington.” She says eventually, and Steve can’t tell if she means it in a good way or a bad way. He squares his shoulders a little and chances a laugh.

“Family Video’ll do that to a guy.” He says, and Nancy grins back.

She seems a little less on edge for the rest of the walk up the hill, which Steve takes as a good sign. When they finally reach the top, the party have already commandeered a large picnic bench, all eyes turned to the horizon. There’s still a good twenty minutes before the sun actually starts to set and Steve pulls out some snacks and drinks he’d packed just in case. They’re quickly devoured as the whole group chatters away excitedly.

The setting sun paints the sky in deep purples and oranges and everyone oohs and ahhs appreciatively. It really is beautiful, the kind of sunset you only see a few times in your life. Steve pushes himself to join in with the antics of the others. He even rounds them all up to take pictures and tosses snacks back and forth, laughing at Dustin’s dismal attempt at catching Cheetos in his mouth. On the surface he’s having a great time, letting loose and making memories with his friends, but underneath it all he can’t help thinking how much better it would all be if Eddie was there, too. Its hopeless, no matter how much he tries to shake away the thoughts, to distract himself and focus on the present, his mind keeps going back to that stupid metal head.

***

On the way back down to the Winnebago, Steve once again ends up at the back of the pack with Nancy. The decline is much less taxing on his hips than the incline, for which Steve is endlessly grateful. He’ll never admit it to the others, but all the fighting and head injuries and hospital visits have really done a number on his body. He’s only thankful the unpleasant dizzy spells he suffered from after the clash with the Russians finally seem to have stopped. There were days when the walls and floor around him would swirl and spin so badly he could barely get out of bed.

“How are things back in Hawkins?” Nancy pipes up. Steve manoeuvres down some rocky steps, loose stones rolling under his feet, before responding.

“Same as always.”

“And you and Robin are…?”

“Still friends. Platonic with a capital P.” Steve intones, popping the P for emphasis. He’s lost count of the number of times he’s had to have this conversation with one person or other. His parents even brought it up on their most recent flying visit home.

“She’s really not your type?” Nancy pushes. Steve wishes he’d walked ahead with the teens.

“It doesn’t matter if she’s my type, I’m definitely not her type and I’m not interested in her like that, Nance.”

“Really?” Nancy responds, and then, as if she’s pondering something, “What is her type then?”

Steve thinks for a few moments, aware that he has to tread incredibly carefully around this topic.

“Uh…like, nerds I guess? Y’know, she’s in Band and likes old movies and weird music and she reads a lot so probably…that kinda thing?”

“No wonder she hasn’t found someone in Hawkins…it’s not exactly a hive of creative, nerdy types…although…” Nancy trails off again, thinking. Steve nudges her with his elbow. She shakes her head slightly.

“I mean…there’s always Eddie, I suppose?”

“…Eds?” Steve whips around to look at her in shock.

“Yeah. Think about it, they’re both musical, they both like movies and books and stuff…” Nancy’s eyes are earnest, Steve has no doubt that she is currently putting together the pieces of some incredible puzzle in her mind. Too bad the puzzle is completely wrong.

“God, you’re starting to sound like Henderson…” Steve huffs, kicking a stone in his path.

“It’s not that crazy of an idea, I’m sure there are plenty of girls who think Eddie is attractive.” Nancy insists. Steve chokes on a laugh.

“I never said they didn’t, but it is crazy, Nance. Robin and Eds are friends. The three of us are friends. Why is it so hard for people to believe that?” He sounds exasperated and desperate, and he knows it. He wants the conversation to be over, it’s pushing buttons he didn’t know he had, like he isn’t sure if he wants to yell or cry or laugh.

“Is it that hard to believe that a girl might choose Eddie over you, Steve? Those hickeys Eddie’s been parading around are clear evidence that at least one girl out there likes him.” Nancy bites back primly and Steve freezes in place, gaping at her.

“You…You think I’m jealous? Really?” There’s manic, shocked laughter bubbling up in his throat, he swallows it down as best he can.

Nancy folds her arms and stares him down, tapping her foot. A smug little smile is playing across her face and Steve can tell she thinks she’s hit the jackpot.

“I think it took another guy showing up and getting friendly with Robin for you to realise how you actually feel about her.”

Steve flings his arms into the air in frustration and paces, trying to calm both his breathing and the desperate racing of his heart. He’s seconds away from blurting out the truth. Not about Robin, he’d never betray that trust, but it would feel cathartic to unload all his feelings for Eddie onto someone else for a few minutes. But people don’t know about Eddie either, and Steve doesn’t need to be a genius to know that it’s not his place to tell anyone, even a friend.

He takes a deep, steading breath before speaking again, Nancy looking smug all the while.

“I love Robin, Nance-“ He puts up a hand to stop her from yelling ‘told you so!’ “-she’s my best friend, but there is nothing else going on between us, and there never will be. Besides I…” Steve cuts himself off before he can say another word, clamping his mouth shut tight. He’s gotten a bit too carried away, forgotten that Nancy is a journalist at heart and doesn’t miss a trick. Her face lights up with a knowing grin and she prods him in the chest with one finger.

“You’re dating someone.”

“No! No, I’m not...” Steve responds but maybe he’s too hasty or too quick to refute it because Nancy’s grin only widens. She nudges him again.

“You are!”

Steve groans internally. Making a very rushed and ill-advised decision since he’s certain that doubling down on the lie won’t get him anywhere now.

“We’re not…dating.” He grumbles eventually, looking away towards the end of the path they’re treading. “We’re just hooking up.”

“But you like her.”

“It’s complicated, Nance, and…unexpected. They’re not…” Steve can’t bring himself to say they aren’t his usual type, because Eddie is very much slap-bang in the middle of his usual type. The centre of the Venn diagram describing Steve Harrington’s type. He fumbles for the right words but Nancy speaks before he can complete his thought.

“Is that why you’re not dating? Because she’s not the kind of girl Steve Harrington should be with?” There’s an accusation there, aimed at the shallow part of Steve he doesn’t think is deserved, but he doesn’t rise to the bait.

“No, we’re not dating because…” Here he drops off again, because the reason is frankly embarrassing. “…because I haven’t asked yet.” He mumbles, staring at his shoes.

Nancy bursts out laughing, as Steve had anticipated she would, and it’s as uncomfortable as he’d thought it would be, too. He doesn’t tell her anything else, keeping his lips firmly sealed for the rest of the walk, even though Nancy pesters him with questions the entire way. She asks if they’re from Hawkins, if they went to the same school, how they met, what Steve likes about them, why he hasn’t asked them to go steady yet, are they a mutual friend, does Robin know about them. The questions are truly endless, Nancy seeming not a bit deterred by Steve’s silence.

She only relents when they reach the Winnebago, hopping into the passenger seat to give Steve directions to the motel they’re spending the night at. Spilling her relationship worries appears to have improved Nancy’s mood greatly. Whilst spilling some of his only succeeded in making Steve more stressed. Still, as they get closer to the motel a jittery excitement begins to creep into his bones. Eddie, Jonathan, and Argyle are due to return from the Music Festival the following morning. For better or worse, it will be nice to have them all back. At the very least having Jonathan around again would create a welcome buffer between Steve and Nancy’s persistent questions.

Chapter Text

The hotel they’re staying at is functional, it has enough beds, the sheets appear clean and the hot water actually works. It’s not pretty, the wallpaper is peeling in places and the carpets almost threadbare, but it’ll do for the short time they need it. Nancy chose it, mostly because it was the cheapest option they could find in the area. Steve gave it a once-over as soon as they were all checked in, opening every drawer and cupboard in each room, checking exits and windows, fire escapes, light switches. Dustin hovered behind him throughout, then ran off to let everyone else know the place had Steve’s approval as soon as he was finished.

“If they don’t show up in thirty minutes I’m going over there.” Steve huffs, glaring out at the parking lot.

The unfamiliar bed and odd noises from other residents had put Steve on edge all night. In the end he’d slunk out to doze in the Winnebago in the early hours. He’s managed to convince the others that his restless attitude is definitely because of the motel and has nothing to do with anything else (it’s definitely nothing to do with Eddie). Max and El are having none of it, but the boys don’t seem to have noticed anything, and if they have they certainly haven’t said anything to Steve about it. Now, after joining the gang for breakfast in the dingy dining room, he’s sitting by the window of his room, looking out over the road and the parking lot, stewing in a mix of apprehension and impatience.

Nancy has generally left him to it, relaxing on her bed with a book and a glass of iced tea. Her college sent a reading list at the beginning of summer and she’s been doggedly working through each and every text on it. Her suitcase has more books than clothes in it. When Steve speaks she lowers a heavy text about ‘media literacy’ and sighs.

“The traffic is probably bad or something. Relax, Steve.”

“They said 12, Nance. It’s almost 2.”

“Well, Argyle is probably driving, maybe they got lost or something, don’t know why you’re so worried anyway…” Nancy trails off with a shrug, picking up her book once again.

***

It’s nearly 3pm when the Surfer Boy Pizza van finally pulls into the parking lot of the motel. Steve has spent the time pacing up and down wearing holes in the carpet, and sitting by the window jumping at each passing vehicle then grumbling irritably when it’s not the one he’s waiting for. He’s out of the room, down the stairs, and outside before the van’s engine has even cut off.

“Heyyy…” Argyle drawls when they finally climb out of the van. It takes every ounce of self-control Steve has not to yell at them for being so late. Instead, he takes a deep breath and attempts a nonchalant tone.

“Everything good? You guys are later than you said you’d be.”

“Ohh, yeaah! That was Eddie, he wanted to say goodbye to Jay and it took fooorever to find the guy.” Argyle grins lazily, and then the side door of the van clatters open and Jonathan and Eddie tumble out, looking rumpled and hazy.

“Steviiee!!” Eddie cries the moment he spots Steve. His limbs seem floppy and uncoordinated as he stumbles over and latches both arms around Steve’s neck, hanging off of him. Steve takes a step backwards at the sudden weight, the sudden overwhelming invasion of his personal space. The entirety of Eddie Munson’s deceptively heavy body pulls at his shoulders and neck, pressed tight against his chest. It’s enough to bring tears to his eyes. He should push the guy off, make some joke to diffuse the weird tension that has probably arisen. But Eddie seems wildly unstable even clinging onto him, so instead he places an arm tentatively around the other guys shoulders, careful to avoid touching anywhere even remotely risqué.

“This place got food?” Jonathan mumbles, squinting up at the motel, completely nonplussed by Eddie’s behaviour.

All three of them are definitely either on, or coming down from, a lot of drugs. Not much of a change can be seen in Argyle. Aside from appearing sleepier and less colourful than usual, they’re as talkative and cognisant as always. Jonathan and Eddie, however, are a completely different story. Steve leads them up to the room where Nancy is waiting with glasses of water and food. Eddie clings to Steve for the duration of the trek. He has to manoeuvre the rickety staircase and the narrow hallway with him weighing down his entire left side. In such close proximity Eddie reeks of stale beer and weed and god knows what else. Infatuated or not, the current Eddie is far from enticing, which Steve is incredibly thankful for, though his thrumming heart betrays just how good it feels to hold the man so close after such a long time.

The three of them devour two boxes of cereal and several hastily made PB&Js before Argyle falls asleep fully dressed on the smaller bed in the room. Jonathan somehow manages to take a shower before he also collapses onto the same bed, leaving Eddie mindlessly making his way through a second PB&J and a large glass of milk. Nancy left to inform the gang of their arrival after they’d all gotten to the room. She hasn’t returned.

Steve sits awkwardly in the musty armchair next to Eddie, watching him chew and swallow like a child just learning to eat without assistance, completely in his own world. He doesn’t really want to know what drugs Eddie is or was on, for his own peace of mind. Argyle had mentioned mushrooms but beyond that it’s truly anyone’s guess, Steve can only hope the effects wear off before too long. Eventually Eddie puts down his half-finished sandwich with a world-weary sigh. Steve watches as he picks up the glass of milk, holds it aloft for a minute, then puts in down again with a clunk. A moment later, in a sudden burst of activity he stands up and flops into Steve’s lap, curling up against his chest before Steve can protest. Every attempt to dislodge him is fruitless, Eddie is a deadweight, already fast asleep with a vice-like grip around Steve’s arm. He can’t yell at him for fear of waking the others, can’t bear to push him to the floor in case he hurts him. He kind of likes it. More than kind of if he’s honest with himself. He reaches his free hand up and pats Eddie’s head, gentle, rhythmic pats like he’s trying to soothe an irritable toddler. The comforting, familiar weight is more effective than any sleeping pill Steve has ever taken and he finds himself dozing off minutes later.

***

He is pulled out of pleasant, dreamless sleep to find Eddie now sprawled across his lap like a spoiled house cat, still out of it. Nancy is standing in the doorway with her arms folded, the light pouring in through the open door is almost blinding in the dark room. He squints against the optical assault, even as Eddie nuzzles his face deeper into Steve’s shirt in an attempt to hide from the light.

“Whu?” Steve mumbles, now acutely aware of the dried drool on his cheek. He reaches up to rub at it, the fog of sleep dissipating slowly.

“I said dinner’s ready.” Nancy sighs, and Steve can’t help but feel a little guilty, he was supposed to watch over the others, not fall asleep himself. Nancy has been left alone with all the teens for at least a few hours whilst he took a nice nap. She glances at the bed where Jonathan and Argyle are sleeping, but doesn’t seem bothered by what she sees.

“Right, I-I’ll be right there…” Steve mutters, attempting to nudge Eddie off of him. The light disappears as Nancy lets the door swing shut and walks away, her footsteps echoing in the otherwise silent air.

Eddie grumbles and groans as Steve reluctantly slips out from under him. Reluctant because sleep-drunk Eddie is a rare and wonderful sight to behold, all pouty lips, dark, hooded eyes, and mussed up curls. Reluctant because he slept better in a damn armchair with Eddie in his lap than he has for almost the entire trip so far. Reluctant because if he gets up and faces the real world, if he drags himself out of this safe cocoon of a hotel bedroom, he’ll have to think about the phone number hastily scrawled on Eddie’s arm.

It had caught his eye almost the moment Eddie had stepped out of the van. Messy black marker pen against pale skin tends to stand out, after all. He tried not to read too much into it, and when he’d failed that, he’d tried not to think about it at all. This was much easier, with inebriated mouths to feed he’d been able to push it to the back of his mind. Now, as he stumbles out of the room into the brightly lit hallway, it’s basically the only thing rattling around up there. The walk down to the Winnebago is spent trying to think of a single scenario in which a person might innocently give someone else their phone number.

***

“Surfing?” Steve asks for possibly the fourth time that morning, hands on his hips, standing over Eddie who is shoving things into a backpack. A towel, sunscreen, a clean t-shirt and swimming trunks, a bag of candy for some reason. Apparently the condoms and lube are not deemed necessary for a trip to the beach, which gives Steve a small amount of relief.

“Yeah. Jay’s family runs a surf shop, remember?”

Jay…the name stabs into Steve like stepping on a Lego even though he’s definitely not jealous, definitely. He huffs, tapping his foot irritably.

“You were fine about it last night Sugar, why are you mad all of a sudden?” Eddie is watching him from the floor, looking bemused. It’s true that Steve agreed to the plan the night before, it’s also true that he had been half asleep at the time. More accurately he hadn’t really been asked at all. Eddie had woken up, made a phone call, taken a shower and then toppled into Steve’s bed, wet hair dripping all over the sheets, and had informed Steve that they were all going surfing the following day. Unable to form a single useful thought at the time other than ‘Eddie is lying on my bed, freshly showered, in nothing but a pair of boxers and I think I’m going to cry’ Steve had simply nodded and tried not to stare.

“I just…you barely know the guy. It doesn’t seem safe.” God even to Steve his excuses sound lame.

“Jonathan and Argyle met him too, besides he’s just lending us the boards and stuff. C’mon, the gang all want to go.”

Steve really can’t argue with that, though he doesn’t trust Jonathan and Argyle’s opinion of a guy they most definitely met whilst high as balls. Then there’s the outfit Eddie has decided to wear, a cropped band T-shirt and heavily ripped jeans, hair pulled up into a dumb little bun on top of his head. The nape of Eddie’s neck looks so deliciously soft and unprotected, he has spent the past ten minutes resisting the urge to smother it with kisses. Steve is actively avoiding looking at how much of Eddie’s stomach is on display, the back of his neck is bad enough already. He’s starting to feel like he’s in one of the historical romances where the mere sight of an ankle or a bare wrist is enough to make him go feral.

“…what if it’s some kind of scam? Huh? Have you thought of that?” He’s really scraping the barrel now, and Eddie knows it. He stands and hitches the bag over his shoulder with a sly grin.

“A scam? Over surfing equipment?”

“Y-you never know!”

“Are you scared? Is that what this is? Is King Harrington scared of surfing?” Eddie chuckles, standing far too close for Steve to handle, he takes a few stumbling steps backwards, gripping the kitchen counter for support.

“Scared? I worked as a lifeguard at the local pool one summer, I’m not scared, I-I’m just…”

“Just…?” Eddie licks his lower lip unconsciously, Steve’s eyes trace its progress with avid interest, he shudders slightly.

“Just…Worried someone will get hurt or s-something…” He mumbles, distractedly. Eddie laughs.

“Well it’s a good job we’ll have a qualified lifeguard with us then, isn’t it?”

Fuck. Steve is sure he can think of another excuse, a better excuse, if he could just stop staring at Eddie’s lips. He sighs and shakes his head, Eddie pats him on the shoulder.

“Great. Wheeler says we’re leaving in five.”

***

This beach is further from the main draw, less crowded with sunbathers and holidaying families than the one they’d stayed next to previously. They locate the surf shop with relative ease, it being the only one of two in the area. Eddie, Jonathan and Argyle head inside whilst the rest of the group rush to find the best spot on the beach to place their towels and sun umbrellas. Nancy and Steve set down two coolers full of food and drink, and stretch out a large picnic sheet, anchoring it with piles of sand at each corner. By the time the three return, the mysterious Jay in tow, Nancy is already stretched out on a towel, sunbathing whilst reading a book and the teens are wading in the shallows, splashing each other. Steve is sat watching them from the picnic sheet, applying sunscreen.

“Brought the whole gang, huh? Nice.” The person who must be Jay drawls with a lopsided grin.

It’s worse than Steve had imagined. Jay is easily 6ft tall with short black hair, a chiselled jaw, an abundance of toned muscles and dark bronze skin that seems to shimmer in the sun. Steve can’t see them, but he’s certain that behind his sunglasses his eyes are some perfect shade of amber or gold. He’s got a tattoo of a dragon up one arm and a small stud in one ear. He’s wearing a pair of neon coloured board shorts that sit low on his waist and flip flops. There’s really no escaping it, Jay is incredibly hot. Steve hates him even more than he did when he was just a name.

“That’s Nancy, and this is Steve, I’ll go grab the others.” Jonathan does the introductions, then he’s jogging off to call the gang over, they file back up the beach, dripping and laughing.

“Cool to meet you, when Eddo said you were only in town for a few days I had to invite you down.”

Eddo. Eddo? The nickname rattles around in Steve’s head like an annoying radio jingle, he frowns at his feet. It had taken Steve months to work up the courage to call Eddie anything other than “Eddie” or “Munson”. Then this fucking surfing Adonis, who also happens to listen to heavy metal, rolls up and starts calling him Eddo, just like that? The two met four days ago and they’re already on nickname terms?

“It’s really nice of you to let us borrow your surfing gear.” Nancy has turned and lowered her book, she smiles serenely up at Jay and he breaks out into a broad grin, waving away her thanks.

Steve stares down at the picnic sheet, feeling irritable and needy in equal measure. He glances up, Eddie is watching him out of the corner of his eye, the hint of a frown tugging at the corner of his lips. Steve takes a deep breath. He agreed to the surf trip, and Jay is being very generous letting them use the equipment for free. More importantly, he and Eddie seem to get on well, and it would probably piss Eddie off if Steve were rude to his new friend.

“Yeah, thanks man.” He manages, squinting up at Jay.

“Least I could do for friends of Eddo. Hope y’all are ready, the waves are gonna be grade A today.”

Steve is relieved of the need to respond to this, as the gang arrive and are quickly introduced. Then Jay leads them all back up to the shop to grab boards and whatever else they need. Argyle has their own board, so they’re left to guard the stuff whilst everyone else is gone.

***

It turns out Steve is actually quite good at surfing. Jay spends a little time explaining the basics to them on dry land, which Steve finds irritating mostly because it turns out Jay is a pretty damn good surfing instructor, and then he lets them loose in what he calls the “kiddie zone” to practise.

“Have you done this before?” Jay beams, as Steve and his board come to a gentle halt against a sand bank and he steps off into the shallows.

“Never.” Steve runs a hand through his hair, already sopping wet from taking a few tumbles at the start. He’s been able to catch most of the waves since, and feels quietly smug watching the others wipe out repeatedly. The only other members of the group actually staying on their boards are Max, Lucas, and Argyle. Argyle, it turns out, won a few surfing contests in the past and has been trying to help the teens get the hang of things. Unfortunately their instructions contain more sound effects than actual advice, so the gang have mostly been swimming around dragging their boards with them whilst Argyle yells things like “you gotta fwoosh then swoop my dudes!” and “You’re not getting enough oomph before you gashaaa.”

“You’re a natural Stevie!” Jay claps him on the back enthusiastically, knocking all the air from his lungs, and then he’s rushing back into the water before Steve can respond.

Nancy looks up from her book curiously as Steve approaches and flops down on a somewhat sandy towel.

“Having fun?” Nancy gave up on surfing quicker than everyone else. She’s using a rolled-up towel as a pillow, an oversized sun hat keeping her face out of direct sunlight. Steve hasn’t seen her looking so relaxed in a long time, which means she’ll probably get bored soon and start looking for something or someone to investigate. He lifts his head up to look at her, squinting against the glare of the sun, and forces a smile.

Not for the first time, Steve wishes Robin was with them. If Robin were there, he could pull her off to one side and bitch about Jay. Could complain about how Jay has been paying extra close attention to Eddie for the entire day. Whine about how Jay laughs at all of Eddie’s increasingly bad jokes, and how he keeps touching Eddie’s shoulders and back to correct his posture on the board. Steve would want to jab hot pokers in the guy’s face, if he wasn’t so goddamn nice. He’s even nice to Steve, which is crazy because Steve has spent the whole day glowering at him whenever Eddie isn’t looking. It’s not rational, he knows, because there’s no way Jay has any idea about it. The hickeys and the bite mark have completely faded now, the sight of it makes Steve’s stomach ache, and even if the marks hadn’t faded it’s not like anyone knows Steve made them, except for Eddie. Eddie, who hasn’t so much as smiled in Steve’s direction since they got to the beach.

“I need a drink.” Steve mumbles into the towel, though he remains completely stationary.

“There’re drinks in the cooler.”

“I need something stronger than cola, Nance.” He huffs, there’s a light sprinkling of sand in his mouth, but he can’t find the energy to get up and do something about it.

“I thought you were having fun?” Nancy is now peering at him through her sunglasses, no doubt looking for cracks in his façade.

“Do we have beers, at least?”

“You packed the cooler.”

Steve groans, planting his face fully into the sandy towel beneath him. He did pack the cooler that morning, not a beer in sight.

“Screw this.”

With a grunt, he’s back up on his feet again, patting off the worst of the sand and grabbing his wallet from his jacket pocket.

“Where are you going?”

“To buy beer.” Steve huffs, already jamming his sneakers on and heading in the direction of the boardwalk.

By the time Steve returns with his loot, El has roped Dustin, Will and Mike into building a sandcastle just a few steps from the picnic sheet. Jonathan is spread out face down on a towel conspicuously far from Nancy’s, fast asleep in the shade of a beach umbrella.

Steve sits towards the back of the picnic sheet and cracks open his hard-earned drink, feeling hot and irritable. Jealousy has never been a good look on Steve, and he’s fighting the burning urge to either throw a full-on tantrum, or head back to the Winnebago and wallow in private. Watching the distant figures of Jay and Eddie in the water does not help his mood, but he can’t tear his eyes away from the sight, glaring at them over the rim of his beer can. As he watches, Eddie dramatically tumbles from his board and splashes into the water, surfacing a few moments later. Jay bends over double on his own board, laughing hysterically as Eddie flails in the shallows. Steve wishes he’d bought vodka.

***

The beer doesn’t work, it only leaves a bitter taste in his mouth and an uncomfortable swirl in his stomach. He ends up taking a swim further down the beach in an effort to avoid stewing in his own irritation. He knows it’s stupid, because he and Eddie aren’t dating and they never promised to be exclusive, he has no claim over the man. More to the point, Steve doesn’t even know for sure that Jay is into guys. It’s probably all in Steve’s head, but that doesn’t make it any easier to watch. There’s equally no proof that Jay isn’t into guys, after all. He loses count of how long he’s out in the water, just swimming up and down, using items on the beach as measures of distance. Eventually, when his muscles are aching and his stomach grumbling, he swims back to the shore and heads to the small shower hut to rinse off before grabbing some lunch.

Whatever tiny modicum of relief he had gained from his swim quickly dissipates as he gets closer to the hut. Close enough to hear voices from inside. It’s not eavesdropping, he reasons, as the voices are loud enough to carry out through the entrance, but he slows to a stop, nonetheless.

“-did good, man. Hella good for your first try.” Jay sounds earnest in his compliment. There’s the sound of a shower running in the background.

“I sucked ass and you know it.” Eddie’s voice, and despite his words he sounds…pleased? Embarrassed? Steve can’t be sure, he wants to move closer to hear better, but then he would actually be eavesdropping, not just overhearing.

“You’ll get better, just takes time.”

There’s a moment of silence, Steve unable to hear anything over the crashing of waves, squawking seagulls and running shower, then Jay laughs.

“He’s a sports guy, right? Makes sense... You’re not a sports guy.”

Steve’s stomach clenches unpleasantly. It’s not hard to guess who Jay is talking about. He doesn’t hear anything else for a moment, the shower stops, too. He’s almost about to walk in, to get it over with, and then he hears the wet slap of damp cloth hitting the floor, followed by a sharp intake of breath.

“Fuck, dude…” It’s Jay’s voice again, and Steve clenches his fists reflexively. If he had to guess, Eddie just removed the t-shirt he was wearing over his swim shorts. “Those are some gnarly scars…” At least Jay has lowered his voice slightly, as if in reverence or maybe just shock.

Steve knows Eddie’s scars, maybe better than he knows his own. The deep, crisscrossing hatch marks of puckered flesh across his shoulder blades and spine, the swirling masses of tiny bite marks on his sides, arms, hips and chest, many of them still healing, still pink around the edges and easily irritated, shiny and smooth to the touch. They’re not pretty, they’re not mysterious or cool or anything like that, they’re just there. Just like Steve’s are there. Notches in their shared history. One of the many unpleasant side effects of facing death and coming out the other side irrevocably changed, for better or worse.

“Animal attack…Steve saved me.” Eddie sounds…resigned. His usual mercurial lilt is missing. The shower begins again. Steve wants to walk in and correct him on this. Not the wild animal part, that is, after all, the official cover story, but the idea that Steve saved Eddie. Steve may have carried him out of the Upside Down half-certain he was already dead, but the only reason Steve was able to get there at all was because Eddie sacrificed himself to buy the others more time.

They don’t talk about that, either. Steve doesn’t talk about how in most of his nightmares Eddie doesn’t wake up. He doesn’t talk about how when he wakes up the memory of that dead weight in his arms is still there, shadowing his every move until he can get his hands on Eddie’s living, breathing body and once again confirm to himself that it was just a dream, that Eddie is still here.

“Damn, that’s rough… You’re good now though, right?” Jay’s voice is just a shade too casual, like it’s taking actual effort not to sound concerned.

“Yeah…yeah I’m all good now.” Eddie replies. The shower continues.

Steve counts to ten in his head before taking a deep breath and walking inside. He tries to keep his expression blank, like he hasn’t spent the past few minutes listening intently to their conversation.

“Stevie! Hey, man.” Jay raises a hand in greeting and Steve nods back. Eddie peeks out from one of the shower stalls, wet hair plastered to his face and neck. Steve’s heart skips a fucking beat because he’s gross like that.

“Hey.” Eddie’s gaze flickers down to his bare chest then straight back up again and he grins wide before ducking back into his stall. Steve almost chokes on air, marching into the nearest stall to avoid doing or saying anything suspicious.

“Awesome stuff out there my dude. You’re a natural surfer.” Jay continues, oblivious to Steve’s struggles. He’s obviously just finished his own shower, and is leaning against the row of sinks facing the shower cubicles.

“…thanks.” Steve manages over the noise of two showers going at once. He knows it’s a genuine compliment, but it still sits uncomfortably on his shoulders, like he’d almost prefer an insult so it would be easier to carry on disliking the guy.

“Oh man, you’ve both been through the wars, huh? Lots of wild animals in Indiana?” Jay whistles. There’s no malice in it, Jay seems genuinely impressed if anything. Steve looks down at his naked torso, at the pink raised lines of scars on his stomach from his multiple encounters with life-threatening situations, and then he looks back up towards Jay.

“You could say that…” Steve rarely has to explain how he got his scars, since most of them are easily covered with a t-shirt. Thankfully the ones on his neck have healed enough to be relatively unnoticeable as well, unless you’re really leaning in close. Once or twice Eddie has trailed his fingers or tongue along the lines like he’s casting a spell around Steve’s throat. Steve definitely doesn’t think of this as he scrubs his face clean.

Jay remains leaning against the sinks, waiting for them both. Having someone hanging around as he showers feels pretty weird now that he’s not in school, and Steve tries to make quick work of rinsing the salt water and sand from his hair. He’s uncomfortably aware of both Eddie in a nearby cubicle humming loudly to himself and Jay silently lounging against the counter.

It doesn’t help matters that Jay looks like a model posing for the cover of some fancy swimwear magazine. Now that he’s not wearing the sunglasses, Steve can get a better look at his face. His eyes aren’t gold or amber, as he had assumed, just a normal shade of warm brown, rimmed with thick, dark lashes. He can’t blame Eddie for being drawn to the guy. Steve has never really been self-conscious, confidence in how he looks being just about the only good thing to come from high school. Jay has that same easy manner, like he’s aware he looks like he was carved by Michelangelo but doesn’t want to make a big deal about it.

It’s almost a relief to put a face to the nebulous fears Steve has been dealing with since Eddie left for the festival. At least Jay seems like a nice guy, the kind of guy who would treat Eddie right, has been treating him right that whole day so far. With his face turned to the shower wall Steve bites down on his lower lip to hold in the bitter knot of emotions coiling in his throat. When the water cuts off he’s reigned his feelings back in. He hasn’t given up hope that he still has a chance with Eddie, a chance for something real and good and exclusive, and he’s not about to ruin that chance by acting petty and jealous.

As he follows them back towards the others he sees El’s increasingly elaborate sand castle from a distance, Will and Mike are now joined by Dustin and Lucas, Max is keeping watch over the proceedings but not taking part. Eddie and Jay are chatting away a few steps ahead of him and it’s hard to ignore just how much fun Eddie seems to be having. Steve can almost feel the happiness and excitement radiating off of him in waves, it’s infectious, despite the roiling waves of jealousy he’s struggling to fight against. It’s fine, Steve thinks to himself, flopping onto a free towel and rummaging in his bag for sunscreen, it’s not like Jay will be around all the time, anyway. Once they’re finished on the beach for the day he’ll be gone. At most they’ll have to come back once more to say goodbye on their way out of town. He takes a few deep breaths in and out as he reapplies sunscreen to his scars, glancing at Eddie and Jay, still deep in conversation across the picnic sheet. Yeah, he can definitely handle this.

Chapter Text

“No offence but could you stop being such a downer, Steven?” Max huffs. Her arms are folded and she’s throwing a withering glare in his direction. Steve adjusts his grip on the surfboard he’s ferrying back to the store and frowns. “The whole ‘woe is me’ thing is getting really old.” The teen continues, falling into step with him in a way that warns he absolutely will not be getting out of this conversation any time soon.

“I’m fine.” He replies, hoping blindly that Max will believe him even for a second.

“Oh, really? Know what else you are?”

Steve tilts his head slightly towards the red-head, waiting for her to continue. “A terrible liar.” Max’s grin is vicious.

Steve opens his mouth to respond but words fail him. A moment later Max is holding the door of the surf-shop open for Steve to pass through. She follows behind him to the shop desk, where Jay’s father is checking the surfboards back in, and hovers at his side whilst Steve makes polite small talk over a radio pumping out classic rock in the background. She’s at his elbow the moment they’re outside again and heading back down to the beach. Max can’t walk as far, or as fast, as she used to be able to, not since Vecna. Thankfully her ability to skateboard has not diminished. Her snarky attitude is likewise unaffected, though her depth perception has certainly worsened, something she and Steve now have in common.

“Look, I get that you’re all butt-hurt because Munson is paying more attention to his new friend than he is to you, but this vacation was supposed to be fun, and I don’t wanna spend all my time watching your pathetic ass sulk over a dumb boy. Okay? It’s really killing the ‘summer fun’ mood.” Max sighs, cutting straight to the heart of the issue with her usual lack of tact or sensitivity. Steve is left reeling for a second, she might as well have punched him straight in the gut. “If you keep frowning like that you’ll end up with premature wrinkles, and then even ‘The Freak’ won’t want you.” She adds with an impish grin.

“Don’t know what you’re talking about, Maxine.” Steve huffs, because he’s not about to be lectured by a fifteen-year-old. “And even if I did, I’d say it’s none of your damn business.”

Max scoffs, leaning a little heavier on Steve’s arm as they navigate the few steps down from the boardwalk to the beach. Once they’re down she lets him go completely, crossing her arms again and staring him down. The kid can be pretty intimidating when she wants to be, Steve hesitates, waiting for her next round of attack but it doesn’t come. She just sighs and unfolds her arms, reaching out for Steve’s elbow once more. Steve isn’t sure which is worse, being berated or being pitied.

“It kills me to say it, but Eddie’s obviously into you, so…I dunno, maybe stop worrying so much and actually talk to him? Jeez, for someone who’s always desperate to help everyone else, you’re really shit at dealing with your own problems.” Max eventually mutters, sounding extremely pissed off. Steve’s cheeks burn with a mixture of embarrassment and an odd sense of comfort.

“Awhh, didn’t know you cared so much, Red.” He jokes, ruffling her hair even as she bats him away. A part of him wants to dig deeper and find out exactly why Max is so sure that Eddie is ‘into’ him, but he bites his tongue.

“I’m serious, Steve. Sort your shit out.” Max glares, like Steve’s woeful love life is directly affecting her own happiness. He swallows another teasing reply, Max doesn’t seem in the mood for one. Instead he nods sheepishly, and they walk the rest of the way in silence.

***

“Hellfire, huh? Like those occult clubs in England a hundred years ago? Or like the movie? Pretty niche for a high school freshman but, I dig it.”

Dustin lowers his sandwich and looks down at his shirt, then back up at Jay who asked the question. Jay takes a large bite of his own sandwich, staring right back at the kid, clearly waiting for a response.

“Uhh...”

“It’s our D&D club.” Mike pipes up, turning fully in his seat to join the conversation. “Eddie made it. We play in the back of the theatre at school and Eddie put together this whole set, with like a throne and a huge table to play on and he paints all these cool little mini’s and stuff. It’s awesome.”

At the word ‘D&D’ Jay breaks out into a wide, excited smile. By the time Mike has finished gushing about the club and Eddie’s stage building skills, he’s positively vibrating with joy. Steve’s heart sinks like a boulder. He’s starting to feel like Jay was put on this earth to be the perfect match for Eddie Munson, and therefore Steve’s sworn rival. Their list of shared interests just keeps stacking up as the day progresses, whilst Steve and Eddie’s list of shared interests remains woefully small and mostly relegated to ‘horrifying monsters’ and ‘sex’.

“You guys have a D&D club at your school? Hell yeah! Man, like three members of my group have summer jobs so we can’t play again until vacation ends, and even then we only play once a month at most.”

“You play?!” Both Dustin and Mike yelp, drawing curious glances from the rest of the party. Steve is uncomfortably sandwiched between Argyle and Jonathan, earnestly discussing their opinions on sandwich fillings, and the D&D group now excitedly talking about the fateful Cult of Vecna campaign. When Eddie returns from the restrooms, long hair still dripping wet from his earlier shower, he’s quickly dragged into their chatter, sitting so close to Steve that their knees touch.

With nothing better to do, and no real reason to move, Steve sits in silence, listening to the others talk about their characters and memorable moments from their game. The more excited Eddie gets the more he moves his hands around, like words aren’t enough to express what he’s trying to tell the others. He keeps bumping into Steve and tossing him apologetic little smiles that make Steve’s heart thud in his ears.

“Do you play, too?” Jay asks, and everyone turns to look at Steve expectantly.

“I, uh…” Steve pauses, glancing at Eddie who is watching him with a wide grin, eyes twinkling in the sun. It keeps catching on the tiny grains of sand stuck to his eyelashes and skin, making him look like he’s been dipped in glitter. “I guess… Yeah. Only to get these guys off my back about it, though.” He says, and Jay laughs.

“He’s playing a human fighter, it barely counts as D&D.” Dustin pipes up and Steve tosses him the bird.

“But, without him we wouldn’t have been able to track the person who killed the old king.” Will adds, and Steve feels a surge of affection for the boy. Lucas agrees, even Mike admits that Will has a point. Only Dustin is unmoved.

“Just you wait. He’ll be a full-fledged member of Hellfire in no-time.” Eddie claps a hand around Steve’s shoulders and pulls him into a one-armed hug, grinning. Steve feels the heat rising up the back of his spine towards his face and quickly nudges Eddie off of him. He regrets it a moment later, worried Eddie now feels rejected, and quickly spirals into overthinking whilst the others continue to chatter.

“Maybe he’ll replace you, Dustin.” Max says with a maniacal grin. Dustin looks genuinely concerned for a moment, but then Jay speaks up again.

“Wait, you’re running a game at the moment?”

This snaps Steve back into the moment, heart thudding heavily in his chest. The problem is, he knows Eddie and the others well enough to already guess what is about to happen.

“They begged me to run a short game for the trip, and well, who am I to disappoint my adoring followers?” Eddie shrugs, looking maligned.

“Begged you, huh?” Steve mutters, catching Eddie’s eye. “That’s not how I remember it going, but sure, whatever you say.”

Eddie flashes him a look, opening his mouth like he’s about to retaliate, but closes it again almost instantly. Steve doesn’t need to think too hard to guess that whatever Eddie had wanted to say was far too dirty for their present company. The heady feeling he’s left with when Eddie turns away is enough of a clue.

“You should totally join. We’re playing again tomorrow.” Eddie’s casual invitation is quickly parroted by the teens, and Steve is bitterly unsurprised.

“Oh, I mean…I’d love to but I don’t wanna intrude. Plus it’d be so much work to make a character that’ll fit into the story, and you’re already an established group and stuff…” Jay resists, and for a moment Steve almost forgives the man for stealing Eddie’s affections. Almost.

“You could just play your usual character, or I have a bunch of NPC’s you could choose from, it wouldn't take much to flesh out a character sheet. You could come over to the campsite in the afternoon and we can work on it together.”

Jay resists again, with less conviction this time, but he’s no match for the persuasive powers of five teens and Eddie Munson, and soon the plan is set in stone. Jay is given the name of the site they’ll be parked at the following day and he and Eddie are still discussing classes and backgrounds as the beach umbrella, picnic sheets and towels are packed away. Steve busies himself with luggage and corralling the teens so he doesn’t have to watch, though his gaze frequently seems to wander over to the pair despite his attempts at ignoring them.

***

By the time they park up at the next campsite, Eddie’s hair has dried into perfect ringlets. They frame his face like he’s a damn Botticelli painting and Steve finds it painful to even look at him. He’s spent the entire drive from the beach staring straight ahead for fear of being blinded, barely clinging to some semblance of normality. Max spends the whole drive in the passenger seat, staring him down like she can read his thoughts and wants him to know she strongly disapproves.

With all eleven of them together they now have four tents to set up, plus a ridiculous amount of food to prepare even without considering entertainment for the evening. They all gather on the couches in the back to sort out the plan. Nancy naturally takes the lead, as Steve is too distracted to pay attention, and everyone else is still buzzing from a day of sun, surf and sand. El looks like she might fall asleep right where she’s sitting, leaning on Max’s shoulder to keep her head up. Dustin and Will are muttering about D&D, excited to be playing again the following day.

“-Eddie and Steve can go get groceries while you guys put up the tents, Jonathan can get the campfire sorted out and I’ll get the towels out to dry.” Nancy finishes, clapping her hands together and turning to look at Steve. He jolts out of his daze, only catching the tail end of whatever she was saying. She’s clearly very pleased with her efficiency in organising the group though, so he nods his understanding hesitantly.

Steve’s stomach twists at the thought of spending time alone with Eddie in his current state of mind. That is to say, he’s already bare millimetres away from a meltdown and looking Eddie in the face will absolutely break him. But it’s too late. Besides, it would be even more suspicious to object, especially as Eddie is already getting to his feet and brushing off his jeans.

“C’mon Buttercup, pretty sure we passed a store on the way here.” He grins, reaching out a hand to Steve to help pull him to his feet as well. Steve reacts as if commanded, allowing Eddie’s guitar-rough fingers to curl around his palm and tug him out of his seat.

Eddie holds his grip around Steve’s arm for far longer than necessary as they trudge down the hill towards the distant lights of the town. It’s not too bad once they’re walking, Steve keeps his eyes firmly on the ground between them and Eddie leads the way. Chattering about the festival and how jealous his band will be when he tells them about it. Steve really only needs to grunt or hum a response every now and then, he can barely focus on the words enough to process what Eddie is saying. His mind is too occupied by the white heat emanating from Eddie’s fingers on his wrist, the way Eddie’s thumb keeps rubbing circles into the palm of his hand. It’s not until Eddie takes an abrupt right-turn that he wishes he’d tried to focus more, or at least look up more often.

“This… Isn’t the store, Eds.” Steve frowns, blinking dumbly around at the dark alleyway Eddie has steered them both into.

“No shit, Sherlock.” Eddie replies, his breath hot against Steve’s face as he unceremoniously pushes him up against a wall. Embarrassingly, Steve is genuinely surprised to find himself suddenly wedged between a stack of milk crates and a fire escape, with Eddie’s hands gripping his collar. It’s only when Eddie presses in tightly against him, the rough pad of his thumb running along Steve’s lower lip that he’s yanked out of whatever fugue state he’s been in for the past few hours. “Got your attention now?” Eddie whispers, and Steve can’t ignore the tinge of irritation in his tone.

“Y-yeah…” He mutters, breathlessly.

Eddie leans in closer, their faces only an inch or so apart, thumb still resting on Steve’s lip. Dark brown eyes flick up to catch his, and Steve’s spine might as well be made of jelly for all the good it’s doing keeping him upright. He slides down the wall slightly, his shirt catching against the rough brick but ot’s a sacrifice he’s happy to make if it gets him any closer to having Eddie’s mouth on his own.

“Can I…?” Eddie hesitates, biting his lip. His gaze moves from Steve’s eyes to his lips and back up again and the hairs on the back of Steve’s neck stand up. He doesn’t even bother to answer, just lunges forward to claim Eddie’s lips with his own. Eddie melts against him, all soft lips and soft hair, the faintest hint of salt on his tongue as it slides greedily against Steve’s.

The problem is Steve can never bring himself to stop once given permission, doesn’t want to break the kiss even as his lungs scream for air, and for once, Eddie seems equally as reluctant to pull away. They’re pressed flush against each other, hidden from view of the street by the stack of milk crates, the only noises punctuating the air are the occasional grunt and the slick, wet mess of their lips and tongues. Eddie’s fingers dig in tight around Steve’s hips under his shirt, Steve clinging to Eddie like he’s afraid the guy might try to run. Maybe he is scared of that, maybe that’s why when Eddie breaks away for a moment, gasping for air, lips bruise red and glistening, Steve runs his hand up the back of Eddie’s neck and yanks him back into the kiss with a low growl.

It's a surprise even to Steve that he isn’t rock hard in seconds, that the burning kisses Eddie presses against his jaw and neck don’t send him spiralling into another sticky mess in his pants. He lets his head fall back against the brick and swallows a deep lungful of warm night air as Eddie wends his way down to his collarbones, tugging the neck of his polo-shirt to the side impatiently. Everything is Eddie. Steve’s blood tingles at his touch. His lips are swollen and damp, his heart thrumming a victory tune in his chest. There are sloppy, wet kisses against the hollow of his collarbone and then a familiar pulling, sucking sensation and Steve has to grip the wall behind him to stop his knees from giving out. He prays it leaves a mark, even as Eddie resurfaces in a flurry of soft curls, a sheepish smile on his lips.

“Eds…” Steve breathes, like it’s the only word he ever wants to say, and then, because he can, because the prize is right fucking there, he leans in to steal another kiss.

Unfortunately, time waits for no man, not even Steve Harrington, even though he’d dearly like it to. The moment is shattered as a car rumbles past, the people inside yelling excitedly over music blaring from its open windows. The headlights are almost blinding for a second, and Eddie stumbles backwards a step, dislodging Steve from his neck, cursing under his breath.

“-Shit. Sorry, fucking car…” Eddie mutters, running a shaking hand through his hair and reaching reflexively into a back pocket for his smokes. There aren’t any there, a fact Steve only knows because his hands were in those same back pockets moments earlier.

“S’alright…” Steve hums, the air cooling around them as the real-world seeps back in. He glances at his watch and then sorely wishes he hadn’t. “Fuck, we were supposed to be back by now.”

They jog to the store in silence, grabbing a cart and rushing around the aisles as quickly as possible. Eddie buys more smokes while Steve packs their shopping into two large bags. They take a quick cigarette break outside the store before heading back to the campsite, stealing conspiratorial glances at each other through the smoke, faces lit by the neon lights of the storefront.

It’s easy, with a head full of nicotine and the feel of Eddie’s mouth still lingering faintly on his lips, to push away the worries and fears that have plagued him all day. The path ahead is so simple for a moment that Steve can see it all in his mind. Walking back to the campsite, having dinner around the fire, telling stories or Eddie playing music for everyone as the night wears on. Then, in the safe darkness of the Winnebago, whilst everyone else sleeps in their tents outside, sitting down beside Eddie, reaching for his hand and finally telling him how he feels. For better, or worse.

***

“How’s your head?” Steve asks when they’re almost back to the others. He’s happy to have a heavy paper bag of groceries to hold, he feels so light and easy he’s half worried he might float off if it wasn’t there, anchoring him to the ground.

“Hmm?” Eddie has one hand shoved in his pocket, his other holding a second bag to his side, he looks up from the stone he’s been kicking along in front of him for half the walk.

“The hangover? The come down? How’re you holding up?” Steve presses, glancing around at the empty street. It would be so easy, a voice in the back of his head mutters, there are so many dark alleyways, so many secluded walls to push someone up against. Once more for good luck wouldn’t hurt, right? The tempting voice is drowned out by Eddie’s response.

“Honestly? Feels like someone scooped out my brain and replaced it with a bunch of angry bees.” Eddie whines, drifting towards Steve, their shoulders bumping gently.

“So, just like normal, then?” Steve teases, surprising himself with how easy it feels. He gets a stronger nudge to his shoulder in retaliation, and they both chuckle. It’s so much easier, when it’s just the two of them. When he doesn’t have to navigate the Winnebago, strangers, friends and exes and all that other crap. Easier when he doesn’t have to pretend like he’s not head-over-heels for the guy. Well, at least not as much as he has to pretend in public.

“That might be the first smile you’ve cracked all day, Pretty Boy.” Eddie sighs. “First real one, at least.” He clarifies, like he knew Steve was about to argue the point. They pass under a streetlamp, both their faces bathed in warm orange light for a moment. There’s a tinge of something in Eddie’s eyes that Steve doesn’t want to deal with right now, not when he’s feeling more optimistic than he has been in days.

Like a rescue flare, the campsite shimmers into view in the distance, and Eddie seems happy to drop the subject for the moment. They trudge along in silence once more, shoulders bumping occasionally, until the shouts and calls of their camping companions come into earshot and they jog the rest of the way.

***

It’s a nice night, everything goes almost exactly as Steve had seen in his head. Admittedly, he hadn’t predicted the part where El and Dustin almost burnt down the entire campervan trying to heat a can of spaghetti-o’s. He also didn’t foresee the teens insisting on playing truth-or-dare, resulting in more than a few incidents that Steve has to ban the kids from mentioning to their parents when they get home. The game comes to a swift end after both Jonathan and Argyle almost slip and fall from the roof of the Winnebago, and Nancy orders everyone to bed soon after.

Inside is all quiet as they both move around getting ready to sleep. They’re interrupted a few times by the others popping inside to brush their teeth or grab glasses of water. Steve bides his time, waiting for them to finally be left alone. He watches through one of the back windows as Jonathan douses the campfire with sand and retreats inside the tent he and Nancy are sharing.

Stillness closes in around their little site, soon the only sounds are the muffled creak of bed springs as Eddie rolls around trying to get comfortable, and the loud thudding of Steve’s heartbeat in his ears. He lies awkwardly on his back, staring up at the carpeted ceiling with its weird stains and trying to scramble together the right words, the ones that have been on the tip of his tongue for weeks. Now faced with an actual opportunity to voice them, they skitter away like ice on linoleum. There’s nothing else for it, he’s going to have to come up with something on the fly.

“Hey…” Steve starts, rolling over onto his side to look across at Eddie.

Eddie turns sleepily, he’s pulled his hair up into a bun to sleep, a mess of strands are falling out here and there, Steve’s heart swells at the sight.

“Hey.” Eddie smiles. His voice is already thick with sleep, and he keeps blinking slowly, like he’s barely managing to keep his eyes open.

Steve sits up, swinging his legs off the bed so he can look at the guy properly, because it has to be done properly, and there’s no time like the present. Eddie lets out a jaw cracking yawn, watching Steve curiously.

“Going somewhere?” He mumbles, burrowing deeper down into his own blankets.

“Actually, I…I wanted to talk about s-something…” He trips over the words slightly, but gets them out on the first try.

Eddie frowns, yawning once more.

“Mhhh… Can it wait till tomorrow, sugar? I’m running on fumes here.” It’s muffled by the blankets and Eddie’s face being smushed into his pillow, his eyes are almost closed already.

“Oh…” It hangs there for a moment as the butterflies previously occupying Steve’s stomach come to an abrupt, jarring, halt. “Yeah, of course… Sorry… Stupid of me.” He finally mutters, if only to quell the echoing disappointment in his belly. Then, because he can’t fucking stop himself, he pushes up out of his bed and moves closer to Eddie. The metalhead eyes him as he approaches, but makes no move to speak or resist. Ducking down, Steve brushes a few errant curls from Eddie’s face with a shaking hand and then leans closer to kiss him lightly on the corner of his mouth.

“Wassat for?” Eddie asks, words slurred with oncoming sleep, when Steve pulls away a second later.

“…I dunno, thought it might help get rid of those bees in your head.”

“Hmm, one more might do it.” Eddie replies, wiggling his eyebrows.

Steve’s heart aches to just curl up beside him, around him, and hold him close for the rest of the night. But he doesn’t, instead he shakes his head with a grin, returning to his own bed as quickly as he’d left it.

“Night, Eds.”

***

Steve wakes early, the distant shouts of young children tugging him out of sleep and into the bright, unforgiving light of morning. Eddie is snoring, limbs akimbo, blanket half-thrown off the bed. Steve takes a moment to pick it up, shake it out and re-cover the metal head with it as he heads out to the communal restrooms.

Lucas is awake when he returns. The kid looks up at him sleepily whilst tugging on his sneakers and Steve nods in understanding. Back inside the Winnebago he casts a longing glance at Eddie’s sleeping face, then, because Eddie likely won’t be awake for another few hours, he pulls on some shorts, grabs his own shoes and downs a glass of water before reuniting with Lucas.

They run in silence, which Steve is grateful for. He’s so focused on controlling his breathing and emptying his mind of distractions (Eddie Munson) he doesn’t think he can manage conversation. Lucas leads the way, his natural pace slightly faster than Steve’s, and they hug the coastline as much as possible, passing shops with their shutters down and bleary-eyed dog walkers shuffling behind their excitable furry companions. The cool morning air works better than any cup of coffee ever could. Twenty minutes in Steve is wide awake, the positivity he’d felt the previous night still lingering at the recesses of his mind. As soon as the run is over, he thinks, he’ll hop in the shower (can’t be sweaty and gross when he confesses) get his hair just right, brush his teeth (just in case) find Eddie and get it over with. No more stupid pining or confusion, this is it, no matter what happens.

Buoyed by the thought, he speeds up a little to run side by side with Lucas. The gentle pace quickly transforms into sprinting matches, one of them pulling ahead only for the second to chase after them, laughing. They’re still laughing when they get back to the campsite, slowing to a jog in the last few yards, Lucas a full ten feet ahead of Steve.

Their camping companions are mostly awake by the time they reach the Winnebago. The sun slowly creeping higher into the cloudless sky, promising a sweltering afternoon. Steve immediately grabs some clean clothes and his shower bag from inside, relieved to find Eddie still fast asleep, splayed out on his small bed like a drunk starfish. Confident that he has more than enough time to get ready he leaves Eddie to sleep off the festival some more and wanders over to the shower block on the other side of the campsite.

***

Steve is used to being wrong, he had been wrong a lot at school and more often than not he found himself being wrong after graduating, too. There’s a reason he’s not the person the party goes to for solving mysteries or coming up with clever theories about The Upside Down. So, as the morning begins to slowly melt into early afternoon, and he still hasn’t been able to pull Eddie aside for a talk, that little voice in his head (this time surprisingly not the one that sounds like Robin) starts to wonder if maybe he’s wrong, again. Wrong about what, exactly, he’s not sure, but definitely wrong about something.

He’s roped into making lunch with Argyle and is elbows deep in chopped tomatoes when Jay arrives. Steve watches as he hands a round tin full of hand-baked cookies (from his mum, he mutters sheepishly) to Nancy, and then Eddie is flinging the door of the Winnebago open in his rush to greet his new friend. Steve turns away, ostensibly to focus on the salsa he’s in the middle of preparing, but mostly to furiously blink away the sting of frustrated tears he can feel brewing in the corner of his eyes. He takes a deep breath, gathering himself enough to see both Jay and Eddie head inside the Winnebango once more, talking excitedly, and watch the door close behind them.

“Here… You look like you could use one.” Argyle mutters, already holding out a large cookie for him to take.

Steve is upset, but not surprised that it tastes incredible.

***

“You trek through the thick undergrowth, branches and thorns catching on your armour, your exposed skin raw and red with scratches, eventually you come to a clearing, like the village elder said. You see before you a towering gateway grown from the very brambles and thorns that impeded your journey thus far…the centre of the gateway is filled with swirling, grey mist.”

Eddie looks around the table, eyes wide. The room is silent around him, everyone waiting in anticipation for what will come next. Everyone except Steve, who can’t stop glancing at Jay, sat to the left of Eddie, where Steve usually sits. By now the pang of jealousy is as familiar as an old friend, he wears it like a second skin, tainting everything it touches.

“Beside this strange gateway, tall and elegant, a single figure stands as sentinel, a dark green cloak draped over their shoulders, hood pulled up to disguise their face. In one hand they hold a shimmering spear. They turn to look at you all and…well, what do you do?” Eddie’s wide eyes turn to Jay with a conspiratorial grin.

Jay clears his throat and the attention of everyone is immediately diverted to him, like moths to a damn flame. Steve fights to keep the frown off his face, though it tugs at the corner of his mouth.

“I lower my hood, stand to attention, I hold my weapon out…” Jay straightens up in his seat. “State your business.” He says, pointing a finger at each of them in turn. He doesn’t do any kind of voice for his character, not like Eddie does anyway, but he still holds their attention with just as much ease.

Dustin speaks up, ignoring Max who is already asking Eddie if she can attack the stranger. He’s already explaining their mission to find the person who assassinated the King, and that the trail leads beyond the strange gate, before anyone can stop him. Steve is holding up a hand before he even realises what he’s doing.

“Woah, woah, woah! We’re just trusting this guy completely? After like two seconds?” He can hear that he’s speaking way too loudly, can feel the flush of heat to his cheeks, but ignores it in favour of pinning Dustin with an incredulous look.

“What? He’s a player character, of course we trust him.”

“Yeah, Steve.” Mike chimes in, folding his arms matter-of-factly.

“No ‘onsight’ check or investigation or anything? What if he’s the guy we’re looking for?” Steve gestures vaguely towards Jay, who looks highly amused. He barely even hears Lucas muttering: “Insight, Steve, it’s called an insight check.”

“I’m with Steve.” Max shrugs, fiddling with her dice. “We should at least check if he’s suspicious before we go spilling our whole deal to him.”

El nods along with Max and both Lucas and Will also reluctantly agree, despite Dustin and Mike laughing at them for being way too suspicious and loudly claiming that ‘Eddie would never do something like that’. For his part, Eddie remains stoically silent throughout the discussion, apparently finding his fingernails more interesting than the infighting. Unfortunately for him, Steve catches Jay glancing at the DM with a grin whilst everyone else is chattering. He tries not to think about thighs pressing together under tables, fingers on knees, ankles hooked around calves like lifelines.

Eventually Dustin and Mike relent and Will, Max and Steve roll checks on the stranger. All three of them roll like shit. So bad that the whole party is completely enamoured by the elf and they end up telling him everything anyway. Steve grits his teeth and keeps quiet, he learnt during the first session that arguing against a bad roll only gets him in deeper trouble, and it seems like Eddie is being more of a stickler for the rules tonight than usual. There’s a small part of Steve that is certain he could wrangle a re-roll out of the metal-head if they were sitting closer to each other. That a winning smile and a bit of footsie under the table would win him a second-chance. Then Eddie leans over to whisper conspiratorially into Jay’s ear and Steve has to dig his fingers into his knee to distract himself.

It feels like a lifetime later when Eddie eventually calls for a break. The session isn’t particularly stressful, they haven’t even been fighting anyone, but Steve breathes a sigh of relief nonetheless. Eddie hops up from behind his screen of books and papers, pulling a very crumpled pack of cigarettes from his back pocket and heading outside without a pause. Jay follows, taking his can of soda with him. The teens rush off to raid the fridge for more drinks and snacks like there aren’t three half-eaten bowls of popcorn already out. With nothing else to do, Steve also leaves the Winnebago. Stepping outside into the evening feels like breaking the surface of water after a long, suffocating dive.

Eddie is standing downwind, far enough away from the campfire that the cigarette smoke doesn’t reach. Nancy is sitting on a fold-out chair closer to the fire, reading another heavy tome. She looks up and gives Steve a smile he can’t quite return, his eyes drifting back to Eddie, who is now chatting with Jay. Steve rolls his shoulders, like maybe all his worries will disappear if he loosens up a little. It doesn’t work, but it does remind him that he has a physical, human, body, one that is currently dying for a piss.

Walking to the restrooms involves walking straight past Eddie and Jay. They’re too focused on their own conversation to pay Steve much mind, but Steve catches enough of what they’re saying to know that Jay’s character definitely isn’t to be trusted, no matter what the die rolls say. He manages a head nod of recognition to the pair on the return journey, desperately smothering a longing glance at Eddie as he passes.

He’s the first one back at the table, which everyone takes as him being really invested in the game, but is actually more because he figures the sooner they start the sooner they can finish and the sooner Jay will have to leave. The sooner Jay leaves, the sooner everyone goes to bed. The sooner everyone goes to bed, the sooner Steve can talk to Eddie alone. This one, tenuous, string of thought keeps whirring around in Steve’s head for the entirety of the remaining session. He’s playing on autopilot. Or rather, he’s barely playing at all. Blindly letting the others handle the mystery of the King’s death and his fey children’s whereabouts, whilst Jay’s character politely prods and nudges them all towards certain theories over others. It’s a lot of talking, and rolls for things like ‘history’, ‘insight’ and ‘intelligence’. Things Steve’s character is not particularly good at, anyway.

***

Nancy finds him pacing the campsite grounds after the session ends. Just numbly wandering the area in the dark, trying to piece his thoughts together. The cooler night air feels nice on the back of his neck, the repetitive pace of his steps is soothing.

“Here you are.” She sighs, falling into step with him. They pace in silence for a moment.

“So, you were jealous of Eddie when he befriended Henderson, and now you’re jealous of Jay for getting on so well with Eddie, is that it?” Nancy starts, her tone carefully hovering around ‘sympathetic but frustrated’. She doesn’t give him time to respond before she’s pushing on. “You’d probably like him, if you gave him a chance, he and Eddie have a lot in common, and you really like Eddie....” It’s the unnecessary emphasis on ‘really’ that stops Steve in his tracks. He turns to look Nancy in the face, afraid to see whatever emotion is plastered there. Pity? Confusion? Disgust? Steve’s not sure which would be worse. It’s the same Nancy as always that greets him, though. She pats his arms affectionately with a small sigh.

“You know how hard it is for him back in Hawkins. Robin was telling me he barely leaves the house, he doesn’t play with his band anymore either. He was surfing yesterday, Steve, out in the open on a beach full of people. And… You must have noticed how happy he is out here.” Great, far from trying to make Steve feel better, Nancy appears to be working extra hard to make him feel like shit.

“I know, Nance. I don’t need a lecture, okay?”

“Just…try talking to Jay, I’m sure it’d make Eddie happier to see you two getting on, instead of whatever the hell you’re doing.”

She looks so earnest, staring at him with an intensity she usually reserved for ‘saving the world’ or a really juicy story. He wants to argue, to explain, because Nancy is clearly making the same stupid, mistaken assumption as Max. The assumption that he and Eddie are dating, that he and Eddie are in love. That he, Steve Harrington, is not currently having the worst two weeks of his life, including the ones where he was almost killed by monsters. Instead he grits his teeth, takes a deep breath, and promises that he’ll try harder to get on with Jay.

His new resolve lasts approximately three minutes, all the time it takes to walk back to the campsite and see Jay handing Eddie a box of condoms with a sheepish grin. He’s in earshot before he can stop himself from being in earshot. He sees Eddie laughing and pauses, unnoticed, to listen in wrapt horror as the conversation continues.

“Oh man, you really didn’t have to.” Eddie chuckles, turning the box over in his hands.

“Seemed only right after we used your whole pack, man.” Jay replies, shaking his head as if still shocked by this information.

“It was a crazy weekend.” Eddie slides the carton into his jeans pocket with a nod. “Thanks.”

“Of course, I didn't want you to be left without, y’know.”

Eddie laughs again, like he’s embarrassed, and Jay fist bumps his shoulder affectionately. Steve wants to throw up. He feels like all the air has left his lungs, like his stomach is a deflated balloon filled with lead. Then, like a slow-motion car crash, Eddie’s gaze drifts and alights on Steve, eyes widening slightly with shock. Steve doesn’t even have time to arrange his expression into something less heartbroken.

He runs, or rather, he walks quickly. It’s too much to handle, too much to bear, his heart feels like it might burst out of his chest if only to get away from it all. Eddie follows him, which is honestly worse. He doesn’t want to be seen, doesn’t want to be interrogated. Steve is certain he’ll be able to pull himself together if he can just have a few minutes of privacy to wallow.

“Where are you even going?” Eddie calls out from behind him, sounding out of breath.

Steve speeds up a little, maybe if he just keeps on going, Eddie will give up and let him cry it out alone, in peace. It shouldn’t be such a shock, he scolds himself. He’d suspected, after all. But thinking it is one thing, hearing his worst fears confirmed is entirely different.

“Just stop for a second, please?” Eddie persists, and the part of Steve that still pathetically adores the guy is thrilled that he’s still being followed.

“Stop following me.” It comes out flat and hard. Steve imagines he hears the crunch of feet behind him pause for a second, imagines Eddie giving up and turning back to the camp and his cosy conversations with Jay. Then there’s a familiar hand with familiar rings gripping his arm.

“Let go of me.” He could easily pull himself away. Reach over and pry those lovely fingers off his arm and keep walking. He stops walking. Eddie stares at him for a moment, chest heaving from the exertions of chasing him.

“What’s going on with you?” Eddie eventually asks, when his breathing has evened out and Steve is starting to feel stupid for making such a ridiculous exit. He doesn’t trust his mouth to speak, just stares back at Eddie, blankly. “You’ve been avoiding me all day, and now this?”

“I wasn’t avoiding you.” It sounds more petulant than he’d hoped. Eddie scoffs.

“Fine, you’ve been avoiding Jay all day.”

“Nothing’s going on with me.” Steve shrugs, hating the way the other man’s name sounds in Eddie’s mouth.

“Don’t give me that crap. I know something’s wrong.”

Maybe it’s Eddie’s tone, or the scene he just witnessed. Maybe it’s watching Eddie and Jay together, the judgement from Max, the chiding from Nancy. Maybe it’s the turmoil of the D&D session, the weird way Jay and Eddie keep looking at each other, or the mixed signals Eddie has been throwing his way for the past few days. Maybe it’s just a mix of everything, all piling up until Steve can’t bear it anymore. He clenches his fists at his sides, tries taking a few deep, calming breaths, but it’s no use. A moment later the words are falling out of him in a torrent. Bitter, angry words.

“Fine. I’m tired. Tired of this trip. Tired of being the goddamn babysitter. Tired of acting like I’m having a good time, acting like I’m fine with every-goddamn-fucking-thing. Tired of you parading around with your new best buddy who everyone seems to love so damn much-”

“-maybe you’d like him, too, if you stopped being such an asshole and actually got to know him, Harrington.”

“-Why the fuck should I, Eds? You think I wanted to spend the last two days watching you have the time of your life with some other guy?! Listening to you two gushing about all the crap you have in common, like you’re made for each other or some shit?”

“Well excuse me for being excited to meet someone who doesn’t think I’m a goddamn murderer! Not a lot of friend options around Hawkins for ‘The Freak’ in case you hadn’t noticed.” Eddie snarls back.

“Well, it seems like you two got plenty friendly at the festival, used the whole fucking pack and everything, huh?”

Eddie takes a few steps forward, grabbing a fistful of Steve’s shirt at the collar and staring daggers at him.

“What exactly are you insinuating right now?”

“Didn’t think I needed to spell it out for you.” He huffs, though he feels more like crying than yelling. “Whatever, Eddie. I’m done. It’s not like we were a real couple, anyway. No harm, no foul, right?” Steve’s voice wavers on the final sentence, he blinks away the sting of oncoming tears, the whole situation leaving him feeling hollow and tired.

Eddie sucks in a breath, his expression frozen in shock. It’s not the reaction Steve expects, and he opens his mouth again to…to what? To clarify? To take it back? He didn’t say anything wrong but there’s a strange, bitter taste of regret in his mouth now. He tries desperately to read the hard line of Eddie’s lips. The other man simply clenches his jaw and releases him, turning on his heel without a word. He gets a few steps before Steve can’t help himself but call out, anger and frustration evaporating into uneasy, nauseous panic.

“E-Eddie?“

Eddie swings round and glares at him and Steve is dumbfounded. Maybe it’s a trick of the light, but he could swear Eddie’s eyes are glistening more than usual.

“Fuck you.” It’s barely a whisper between clenched teeth but it hits like a mortar shell, smashing through Steve’s chest, leaving an Eddie shaped hole in its wake. He lowers his hand, previously outstretched towards the other man.

“Eds, wait…” it’s like his mouth is on autopilot, desperate to do something, anything, to stop Eddie walking away. Even though his heart knows it’s useless. He doesn’t get a response, the metalhead stalks away towards Argyles van and Steve is left in the aftermath, numb and remorseful but utterly, utterly lost.

***

By the time Steve has taken a looping walk around the entire campsite to calm down (and avoid uncomfortable questions) it’s already pretty late. The teens are all settling into their tents for the night and the only people still sitting by the campfire are Nancy and Jonathan. Argyle’s van is nowhere to be seen.

“Why are you here?” Nancy asks, looking confused.

“What, am I not allowed to be?” Steve’s hands go to his hips before he can stop himself.

“I thought you went off to Jay’s place with Argyle and Eddie.”

There’s really no way to worsen Steve’s already bad mood, but this information definitely does nothing to improve it. He waits for a moment as the knowledge settles over him like a shroud, then he shakes his head, worrying his bottom lip with his teeth.

“Where did you run off to, then?” Nancy yawns, unperturbed, looking up as Steve slumps into one of the foldable camping chairs near the fire.

“Just needed some fresh air.” He replies shortly, staring at the ground. He’s reasonably sure that he looks awful, pained and hurt and angry, and he doesn’t want Detective Nancy on his case right now, thank you very much. Better to stare angry holes in the charred earth at his feet than be subjected to an interrogation.

“Hmm… Well, I’m going to bed.” Nancy huffs, when Steve continues to be despondent and quiet. “Put out the fire when you’re done.” She adds as an afterthought, and Steve feels his shoulders relax slightly as her footsteps leave the campfire area.

***

“So…you and Eddie, huh?”

The half empty beer can slips from Steve’s fingers, rolling a few feet away, its contents splashing out onto the grass. He wasn’t really drinking it, anyway, had only accepted the drink from Jonathan out of politeness and a need to keep his hands busy. He’s been sitting by the campfire with Jonathan in complete silence for almost an hour, playing the fight with Eddie over and over again in his head.

“W-What?”

Panicked spluttering and dropping his drink is pretty much all the confirmation Jonathan seems to need. He nods sagely, eyes red rimmed and half closed, no doubt from Argyle’s Purple Palm tree Delight which he’s been slowly puffing away on.

“I have eyes, Steve.” He says simply, staring at Steve with those same smoked out eyes and a vague smile.

“…shit.” Is all Steve’s stunned brain can come up with, hanging his head. Jonathan pats him on the back gently, scooting closer on the log bench they’ve been sharing.

“Heyy, it’s okay mann…” he drawls and Steve wishes Jonathan wasn’t high for this conversation. Typically he finally has someone to talk to and they’re zooted out of their damn mind. “I never assumed you were only a boobies guy…” Jonathan continues, giggling to himself. He’s still got a hand on Steve’s back, like he’s aware that Steve is itching with too much energy and might bolt at any moment.

“Have you…did you talk to Eddie?” It’s a strangled whisper and he’s really unsure which answer he actually wants to hear. Jonathan is basically leaning against his shoulder now, head lolling to the side like it’s too full of weed to hold up straight.

“Hmm? Eddie? Eddie’s a cooooool guy. Grrreeaat guy…” Jonathan slurs, waving his arm around limply. Brilliant, he drops a bombshell and then zonks out so bad he can’t hold a conversation. Steve is starting to understand why Nancy wants out of the relationship honestly.

“Earth to Byers? Jonathan…did, did you talk to Eddie?” Steve persists out of morbid curiosity and deep concern. The third time he asks, Jonathan sits up slightly straighter, nodding.

“Argyle knew riight away, and I was like ‘nooo way man’ then at the festival they asked Eddie straight up ‘how long have you and Steve been dating?’ and Munson was like ‘about two months’. I dunno how they do it, maan, Argyle just knows shit, y’know?” Jonathan finishes with a shrug. Steve stares at him, trying to process the truly earth shattering information he just unknowingly dropped.

Dating?

Dating?

Eddie said that they’re dating?

Eddie told Argyle and Jonathan that they’d been dating for ‘about two months’?

“Shit.”

“It’s no big deal, you’re nooot very subtle about it.” Jonathan again pats him on the shoulder, as Steve buries his face in his hands to stop himself from screaming, crying, laughing. Wave after wave of shock, relief, confusion and panic wash over him for a few moments. Remembering what he said to Eddie before he stormed off, his mind settles on devastation, before veering wildly into confusion once more, thinking about Jay and the condoms.

“I fucked up....” He can’t stop the words bleeding out, muffled only by his hands still cradling his face.

There are so many problems, and he has absolutely no solutions. He doesn’t know where Jay lives, doesn’t have the guy’s number to even try and contact him and find out. He doesn’t have a car, couldn’t drive anyway as he’s already four beers deep, he barely even knows where the campsite they’re staying at is located. It’s far too late at night for anyone to be at the surf shop, and even if he manages to find his way to Jay’s house through some kind of divine intuition, Eddie is still definitely mad at him. More to the point Steve isn’t really any less angry at Eddie, the whole thing is a complete mess.

“Woah, dude…it’s fine. Argyle and I are chill, we’re not gonna spill the beans or whatever. Relax.”

Faintly, Steve’s panicked mind registers Jonathan still sat next to him, attempting to comfort him in his moment of acute crisis. He takes a deep breath and sits up, certain his face is beet red and his hair a complete mess. Two realisations hit him at the same time, as he stares out at the campsite and the dying embers of the campfire in front of him. The first, is that he can’t speak to Eddie until the following day, but, considering the situation, that's probably for the best. A night to think things over and to let the dust settle before he attempts to pick up the pieces, that is, if Eddie will even let him. The second realisation is that he can (and absolutely should) speak to someone else.

“I…need to go.” He breathes, jumping to his feet. He leaves the campsite without another word, jogging along the sidewalk a few blocks until he spots a familiar-looking glass booth in the distance. He speeds up, yanking open the door and jamming himself inside, fumbling in his pocket for change. There’s only one other person he can speak to, should have spoken to two damn months ago. Someone who will absolutely, maybe, be able to help him, once she’s stopped yelling at him for not telling her the truth sooner. He punches in the number and waits impatiently as it rings. Better late than never, he hopes, as the line crackles and buzzes for a second before it’s picked up and a familiar voice speaks up, sleepily.

“Buckley residence, who’s calling?”

Chapter Text

Steve had half hoped that spilling his guts to Robin would feel cathartic, like releasing the air from a balloon, or a particularly intense massage. That’s how it usually feels, after all. This time, hunched in the corner of a phone booth thousands of miles apart, it feels a lot more like cracking open his ribcage, scooping out the most insecure, gooey parts of himself and offering them up to the vultures circling overhead.

After a few seconds Robin settles into rapt silence whilst Steve painstakingly explains the whole situation. From their first kiss at the house party right up to Jonathan’s hazy revelation. He spares her the dirty details, but the rest is laid out in front of his best friend like a roadmap of Steve’s failures.

By the time he’s finished his throat is raw, hands no longer shaking. He hears Robin inhale sharply on the other end, and braces himself for what he is sure will be a very detailed and longwinded rant detailing all the ways he’s fucked up.

It doesn’t come.

His jumbled speech is instead met with almost a full minute of stretched silence. It feels like he and Robin are playing a game of chicken over who will break the tension first. In the end, the old pay phone does it for them. A tinny chime rings in Steve’s ear, and he fishes in a pocket for some more of his rapidly dwindling loose change. It’s his last quarter.

“I’m out of change. C-can you call me instead? I really need your help...” He mutters, hoping he sounds pathetic enough for her to take pity on him. He definitely feels it, slumping against the side of the phone booth with a defeated sigh.

Robin finds her voice enough to ask for the number she needs to call, and Steve hangs up whilst she calls back from the phone in her bedroom. The wait feels like an eternity, though it can’t take more than a few minutes before the phone starts to ring. He’s almost hesitant to pick up the receiver, the delirious fear that Robin might now start scolding him for his behaviour popping to mind.

“Sorry, mom and dad are asleep so I had to sneak around in the dark.” Robin says, breathing heavily.

“Sorry, I know it’s late, I… didn’t know what else to do.” Steve can almost picture Robin fumbling around in the dark, navigating the clutter of her room to find the phone. No doubt it was buried under one of the many piles of books or VHS tapes strewn around in there.

“What exactly did you overhear them saying to each other?” Robin asks, cutting right to the point, like a detective chasing up a hot lead.

Steve repeats the exchange once more, as best as he can remember it. Robin sighs heavily on the other end of the line and Steve’s rock-bottom heart sinks a little more.

“It just doesn’t make any sense…” She mutters.

“I think it’s pretty obvious, Robs.” Steve counters, not even attempting to hide the bitterness in his voice. “Obviously those two hooked up at the festival enough times to use up a whole pack of-”

“-Eddie has spent the last two months calling me almost every day to talk about you. There’s no way he hooked up with someone else, even the supposed Adonis that is this Jay guy. There’s got to be something else going on, Steve.”

Silence fills the line for a moment as Steve tries to process what Robin has just told him.

“…H-He’s been doing what?”

“Calling me. Incessantly. Since the day after you two hooked up at that party. He’s called so many times even my dad knows his name. I had to come up with a cover story for why he kept calling, it’s been exhausting.” Robin hisses into the line, exasperated.

Steve’s head spins. His heart, which until recently had been shattered into a thousand tiny pieces, juddering back to life and thudding heavily against his ribs. This new information giving him a boost of hope that maybe he can fix this whole mess after all.

“You owe me one hell of an explanation, by the way.” Robin continues, over the sound of Steve’s heart thrumming in his ears. “For why you didn’t tell me about you two sooner. Not that I couldn’t have figured it out by myself, you haven’t exactly been subtle about it, but a word or two to your best friend might have been nice.”

“I…I didn’t want to jinx it…I guess? I’m sorry.” Steve mutters. “After tonight I don’t even know if he’ll talk to me again, anyway.”

“If he won’t talk to you, then you need to talk to him. Did neither of you think to have a single conversation about expectations or boundaries or anything? Or were you two too busy boning to actually talk to each other?”

“I mean…” Steve coughs, feeling a flush of heat travel up his neck to his cheeks.

“Ergh. Real classy, Steve.”

“Look, I was working up the courage to talk! It’s all I’ve been able to think about for weeks, and I thought this road-trip would help but it’s just made things so much worse. What do I do now? I can’t take back what I said, but I didn’t even know I was saying something shitty until after I said it.” The panic from earlier begins to set in again and Steve clambers to his feet in the phonebooth, agitated once more.

“I know, I know. When he gets back, you need to apologise. You both need to apologise. Don’t pull that shit you always do where you blame yourself for absolutely everything and act like they’ve never done anything wrong in their lives. Eddie is crazy about you, Steve. Trust me, he’s not going to break it off over a misunderstanding. Just talk it out, so you’re both on the same damn page for once. Okay?”

Steve takes a steadying breath, and nods to himself.

“Okay. Thanks Robs…”

“Good. Now leave me alone and don’t call me again until you’ve fixed this mess.”

“Thanks Robin.” Steve hums, and Robin hangs up. He listens to the mechanical beep-beep-beep of the phone line for a few moments, gathering himself for the walk back to the campsite and the empty Winnebago that waits for him there.

***

The sky above him is a familiar muddy grey streaked with red. The same black specks circle him overhead, flying faster than any bird Steve has ever seen. In his throat lingers the same old taste of bile, blood and ash. Usually at this point he sits up and assesses his surroundings. The upside-down will stare back at him from all sides, and tentacle-like roots will creep towards him over the blackened earth. He will be compelled to get up and search for his friends, and will find them in various states of distress, too far gone for him to be of any help.

This time, as Steve stares blankly up at the unforgiving sky, he’s suddenly pulled to his feet, and comes face to face with Dustin, dressed as he had been the night they’d fought Vecna. Without any conversation taking place, Steve finds himself following after Dustin, aware that they absolutely need to get to a certain location as fast as possible. He stumbles over the roots and brambles of the forest they’re suddenly in, struggling to keep sight of Dustin in the blue-grey darkness. He slams into a tree, and then it’s not a tree and he’s rushing forwards, panicking now because he can’t find Dustin and Dustin is the only person who knows how to get there. He has to get there. He yells out into the void ahead, spinning around, trying desperately to find someone, anyone.

There’s a light, bright and insistent and that’s where he needs to go, it’s so obvious, and as soon as he moves his feet to get there he’s stepping through the heavy metal doors. A nurse is barking questions at him from the other side of the gurney, Steve can’t focus, doesn’t know the answers anyway. He’s holding someone’s hand but when he looks down he doesn’t see anyone, the gurney is covered in so many blankets. He pulls them away layer by layer, the Nurse and the Doctors all crowding around him, demanding answers to their never-ending questions, it’s all a buzz of noise and sound and when he finally removes the last blanket there’s an electric guitar propped up on a pillow. Steve falls backwards as the wall behind him ceases to exist.

It's a house party, he’s holding a bottle of vodka and the person in front of him is laughing because Steve just told a great joke. He can’t remember how it went but Tommy is loving it. He pours a drink, wanders through to the backyard, people are everywhere, swimming in the pool, lazing on the chairs, grinding to the music thrumming through the house. Billy tosses a beachball at him, dressed in his lifeguard shorts and vest. His eyes are pools of dripping black ichor and Steve turns away to find Robin at the kitchen table, weeping.

The house party is a funeral, rain pouring down over the muted green landscape as a priest drones on incomprehensibly. Steve knows the body in the box being lowered into the ground, an old man with his father’s face stares at him from across the open grave, the entire congregation turning to face him with cold, dead eyes. They move towards him as one, shoving and pushing and nudging until his feet reach the edge of the grave and he topples forwards, screaming…

***

It’s late morning. Maybe even early afternoon, Steve isn’t sure. The sun is high, half-blinding him as he sits up and attempts to detangle himself from the mess of blankets and pillows he’d somehow cocooned himself into in his sleep. It takes too long for his heart to stop racing, for the clammy cold sweat on his skin to dry. It takes even longer for the tremor in his hands to subside. The nightmares sure know how to pick their moment, Steve thinks bitterly as he eventually stumbles to his feet. It hardly feels fair, kicking a guy when he was already so down.

There’s too much going on in his brain. It feels over-crowded and noisy, like someone decided to throw a fucked-up pep rally in there. He splashes cold water on his face, soaking the neck of his sleepshirt in the process. It clears the sleep from his eyes but does nothing to drown out the noise. Deciding to take things one step at a time, he starts by aggressively brushing the taste of mildew and dirt from his mouth.

Half an hour later he’s washed, dressed, and eating some slightly stale toast washed down with weak coffee. Nancy, thoughtful as ever, left a note on the kitchen side informing him that the gang were headed to the beach for more surfing lessons with Jay, and they’d be back later with take-out for dinner. His first thought is to immediately go after them, but he has no idea if they went to the same beach, or if he can handle another day watching Eddie and Jay frolicking about together. His second reaction is one of relief. Relief that he has some alone time to think, to plan, to make himself presentable. Relief that the difficult conversation has been pushed back by a few hours. Does that make him a coward? Possibly. But he’s fine with that. More time to think means more time to process it all, good and bad.

He takes to cleaning the Winnebago with gusto, pulling out everything that isn’t nailed down or wired in. Cleaning is monotonous, simple, repetitive. It’s exactly what he needs right now. As a kid, back when he was still desperate for his parents approval, he’d always keep his room immaculately clean. This slowly spread to other rooms of the house, he’d trail behind the cleaners his parents hired, offering to help hold brooms and cloths, to fetch and carry cleaning products and bowls of soapy water. Too young to realise that his attempt to make his parents proud only served to displease them more. He grew closer to the various cleaners that frequented the house than he ever did to his mother and father, and in turn, they began leaving for longer and longer periods of time. These days Steve cleaned as a coping mechanism, when he couldn’t sleep, he’d mindlessly sweep the pristine tiles of the kitchen floor, or take everything out of the refrigerator and rearrange it until it felt right.

He tunes the crackly wireless to the first station he can find, snaps on a pair of gloves and starts scrubbing the toilet. The bleach fumes make his eyes water, but he’s not really there anyway, too busy in his own head to pay much attention to what his hands are doing. He hums along to the radio whilst his conversation with Robin plays over in his mind, piecing together his plan.

***

Steve hears the bike before he sees it. He doesn’t think much about it until the noise is too loud to ignore, too loud to be just another bike passing the campsite. He’s just finished cleaning the floor of the Winnebago, and is taking a few minutes to rest outside with a cold drink when the bike pulls to a stop nearby. The rider is recognisable almost immediately, and Steve’s stomach churns uncomfortably at the realisation. Jay hangs his helmet on one of the handlebars and walks purposefully towards Steve, who starts to wonder if he’s actually been stuck in a nightmare this whole time. What the other man’s purpose could possibly be is unfathomable.

"Hey, Steve…” Jay starts, looking almost as uncomfortable as Steve feels. “You got a minute?”

“Where are the others?”

“Oh, they’re still at the beach. I was gonna stay with them but I figured now would be the best time to talk to you, y’know… before they all get back.”

“No offence… I just, I really can’t imagine why you’d want to talk with me, but go right ahead if you insist.” Steve sighs, gesturing to the nearest chair.

“Thanks…” Jay sits. He doesn’t get comfortable, instead he perches on the edge of the seat, turning to face Steve directly, his hands pressed together in his lap. Steve lets the silence between them drag on, occasionally sipping from his can of soda, trying to avoid making direct eye contact with his unexpected guest.

“So… I know you think- I mean, what you heard-what you think you heard-yesterday was… Shit.” Jay sighs heavily, hanging his head for a moment and taking a few deep breaths before surfacing again. “Look. What I’m trying to say is, nothing happened between Eddie and me.” Jay’s eyes are pleading as they maintain locked eye contact with Steve. He frowns, it certainly looks like Jay is telling the truth, but he barely knows the guy. Could be a pathological liar for all he knows.

“The first night of the festival, I ran into the three of them, we got chatting, I bought some weed off Argyle, that was it. The next time I saw Eddie he was at the drinks tent between sets. The girl I was with wanted to hook up but I didn’t have anything on me, I asked him, he gave me the pack. She took me back to her tent, turns out she was there with her two friends, we got high, I don’t really remember much after that to be honest… I woke up the next day in their tent with an empty pack and three naked girls.”

Steve lets this information soak in. Feeling no desire to speak up just yet, he lets Jay continue.

“I get out of there and the first person I run into is Eddie. We get talking, turns out we like most of the same bands and end up hitting up a bunch of stages together. I was… interested at first, but when I found out he was dating someone I gave up completely. Nothing happened. I swear.”

There are almost tears in Jay’s eyes his expression is so earnest. Steve’s stomach lurches a little as Jay admits his initial interest in Eddie, but it settles quickly. After all, if Steve finds the guy attractive, why shouldn’t other people?

“I’m so sorry, I thought you knew, but after what happened last night I realised what a mess I caused.” Jay sighs, lowering his head once again.

“Nothing happened?” Steve finds his voice enough to ask, he’s not sure if he fully trusts the story, but it’s so much better than the horrible possibilities his own brain has been conjuring, he’s willing to take a small leap of faith until he can get Eddie alone to talk.

“Nothing. I promise.”

“Hm.” Is all Steve can manage. He feels wrung out, like if he is forced to experience one more emotion he’ll simply curl up on the floor and cease to function. He sure has a knack for getting himself embroiled in needlessly complicated relationships.

No.

It takes two to tango. At least half of the complication this time is his own damn fault. The other half lies firmly at Eddie’s door.

He runs a hand through his hair, pushing it back off of his face and sighing. He’s aware that Jay is still looking at him, intensely watching him, clearly waiting for something. He probably wants some kind of conclusion, an apology or an acceptance, a clap on the shoulder and a carefree shrug. Things Steve isn’t sure he can give him, isn’t sure he wants to give him.

Sure, the suspicion and jealousy he felt towards the guy has already leaked out of him, but it hasn’t been miraculously replaced by anything else. Instead Steve just feels…tired. He sighs again, staring at the soda can clasped between his hands.

“Eddie told you we’re dating?” He hears himself ask. Where the question had come from he has no idea.

“Well…” Jay squints slightly, leaning his head to one side as if thinking. “Not exactly, no.”

Steve frowns, opening his mouth to ask a clarifying question, but Jay gets there a second faster.

“I mean, we were both pretty out of it for most of the festival, but from what I remember, I asked him where he was from and he talked about the road trip and all of you guys. Something about the way his eyes looked when he talked about you, I knew I didn’t stand a chance.” He shrugs with a small smile, relaxing into his chair.

“Oh.”

Oh.

“Plus the uh… the intense cold shoulder you gave me the first day we met really sealed the deal.” Jay continues, completely oblivious to Steve’s heart floundering around like a dying trout in his chest.

Steve sniffs, knocked out of his shock by a creeping sense of guilt for his past actions. Jay continues on, offering up his life story despite the complete lack of prompting from Steve. Weirdly, it doesn’t grate on Steve at all, in fact, the pleasant lilt of Jay’s accent is almost soothing, allowing Steve a sort of reprieve from his own roiling thoughts.

“I’ve never been seen as a ‘threat’ before, y’know? This is all so new to me. It’s crazy actually, thinking back. I was a huge nerd all through school, AV club, Band, Student Council, you name it, I was in it. I got picked on for years. School was a nightmare, man. Then I started working for my dad, teaching surfing lessons and running the shop. I had a crazy growth spurt, I put on muscle, and people started looking at me different. Girls I went to school with for years didn’t even recognise me, didn’t remember the dumpy little nerd from their bio class at all.” Jay frowns slightly, scuffing his shoe into the dirt.

“At first, it was like I’d been given a second chance at being part of the cool kids gang, y’know? Until I realised that I still liked the same things, I was still a nerd inside, nothing had changed in here.” Jay sighs, tapping the side of his head. “Yeah, I was slightly more attractive than I had been before, but I hadn’t changed in any real, concrete way.”

“So… what did you do then?” Steve asks, reluctantly curious.

“I, uhh…” Jay hesitates, grinning sheepishly, “I got laid a few times, but as soon as I started talking about Star Wars or Metal music or y’know, the Silmarillion or some shit, they all lost interest pretty fast.”

Steve stares blankly at the guy for a moment.

“It’s a really nerdy book. Ask Eddie.”

“Oh. Damn.”

Jay shrugs. “Most of them bullied me mercilessly in high school, I thought about trying to get revenge or something, but honestly it didn’t feel worth the effort.”

“I was, once… one of the popular kids.” Steve mutters.

“No wayy.” Jay replies, sounding very much un-surprised.

“Haha.” Steve deadpans. “I just meant that, from my experience, they probably deserved whatever revenge you thought of.”

“Hmm…” Jay nods with a small smile. He toes the dirt with his sneaker once more.

“Also, I’m sorry. For being a jerk to you. Me and Eddie… I-it’s complicated, but I shouldn’t have taken that out on you, you were just being nice.” Steve huffs, and he feels a little of the tension in his shoulder release. Huh.

“Nah, I shouldn’t have barged in like I did, I get too friendly way too fast, I saw it was making you uncomfortable but I was too excited about my new friend to stop and think for one fucking second. I’d say we’re definitely even.”

“Okay.” Steve stares at the ground for a few long moments, the only sound that of Jay’s foot idly scratching the dirt by his chair. Steve wrestles with himself, his curiosity finally winning out and he lifts his head and stares at Jay.

“Can I ask you something?” His voice sounds muffled and far away, but he’s already started now so he’s going to damn well finish.

“Fire away.”

“You…like guys as well, right?” He pauses, breath hitching in his throat before he pushes on. “I’m new to… this,” He waves a hand around to signify the nebulous concept of bisexuality “I just… I’ve never met anyone else like me, I guess… I was wondering what it’s like, for you?” He trails off lamely.

“I didn’t really have a big realisation moment or anything. I honestly didn’t know any different, and my parents never really asked… Sorry, that’s not helpful, is it?” Jay chuckles, tapping his fingers together, thinking for a few moments before speaking once more. “For me, it’s about the person, whether they’re a girl or a guy, or anything in-between, that doesn’t matter to me. You can’t change what other people think, just like you can’t change how you feel. You only get one life, it’d be a damn shame if you didn’t get to spend it with the person you love, just because of what they’ve got in their pants. Honestly, I think you’re doing just fine.”

The sincerity of Jay’s final sentence sinks into Steve like the sun’s rays, warming him from the inside. They strike a chord so deep he almost breaks down into tears out of nowhere. He manages to hold it back enough to give Jay a watery smile. Jay leans over and pats his shoulder, giving him a knowing smile.

“Oh!” Jay adds, a grin playing across his face as he removes his hand and sits back in his chair. “You’re also a really solid D&D player. You have great instincts, it’s a shame the dice rolls didn’t go your way last session or my guy would’ve been in serious trouble.”

It takes a second for Steve to catch Jay’s train of thought, his eyes widen as he realises what he means.

“I knew it!! I knew we shouldn’t have trusted you!” He cries, whilst Jay dissolves into giggles.

***

With Jay’s help Steve gets everything back into the Winnebago in record time. It’s honestly cleaner than it had been when Steve got it, and he’s left feeling very pleased with his hard work. The sense of pride welling in his chest is quickly dampened, however, by the crushing knowledge that his hard work will be destroyed as soon as the teens get back. As the sun begins its slow descent, they both start checking their watches. Every vehicle puttering past the campsite is stared at intently until it proves itself to not be the Surfer Boy Pizza van. The longer they wait, the more Steve’s skin starts to itch uncomfortably, it’s definitely taking them far too long to return to camp. Eventually, Jay offers Steve his helmet with a frown and he clambers onto the back of the taller male’s bike without a word of complaint.

The beach is a ten minute drive away. Jay dodges and weaves through the end-of-day traffic with all the confidence and ease of someone who’s been driving motorbikes for their whole life. Steve, meanwhile, clings to the back of the bike in a white knuckled grip, desperately trying not to throw up. They make it in seven minutes and whilst Steve shakes off the nausea, Jay quickly leads the way to where the party had set up their picnic blankets that day.

As the familiar chequered sheets come into view, Steve’s heart rate picks up. As they get closer he counts the gathered group and worry settles into his chest like a leaden weight. Where he was expecting to see ten figures packing up their beach things, he only sees eight, all standing around looking worried. He stops next to Nancy, apparently interrupting a terse conversation between her and Max, who breaks off her tirade with a huff. The gathered group look happy to see both Steve and Jay, but the relief is short-lived as Mike instantly speaks up in a panic.

“Dustin and Eddie went off somewhere and we can’t find them!”

“What do you mean you can’t find them?” Steve asks, trying very hard to remain calm despite the roiling panic in his gut. Nancy sighs heavily, Mike and Will stare at him, eyes wide and anxious.

“W-we were all getting ready to leave, so we came back to the beach towels to pack up-” Will starts.

“-But Dustin and Eddie didn’t come back.” Mike adds, chewing his bottom lip nervously.

“We went back in the water but they’re not out there. We checked all along the boardwalk, we checked the showers and the arcade nearby, nothing.” Nancy finishes, wringing her hands.

“I’ll go notify the lifeguards, they know this area best.” Jay says, speaking directly to Steve, who nods in response, trying to get his brain to calm down enough to think properly.

They all watch as Jay runs off down the beach, silence falls on the little group.

“I think I can find them…” Eleven pipes up, looking around at the others apprehensively.

Everyone’s eyes fall on her, but when no one responds, she clears her throat and speaks again into the circle.

“I can try to see them…” She taps the side of her head as she speaks, and everyone mutters agreement. Mike’s face screws up uncomfortably.

“We talked about that already, it’s not safe…” He mumbles, reaching out and touching her arm lightly. She shakes her head, mind clearly already made up on the matter.

“Before Jay gets back, we’ll all cover for you, will that be enough time?” Lucas asks hesitantly.

“I can do it.” El nods.

They tighten the loose circle around her, covering her from view on all sides. Steve holds his breath as he watches her close her eyes, clench her fists and focus. A wrinkle forms between her eyebrows as she concentrates for one, two, three long minutes. The entire circle waiting with bated breath as she works her powers to locate the missing members of their group.

Finally, she opens her mouth and utters a few, croaking words.

“Rocks… water… blood…” She raises her arm and slowly points down the beach, the opposite direction from where they’d come, from where Jay ran to speak to the lifeguards.

His blood runs cold and Steve doesn’t stop to hear anything else, already sprinting down the beach in the direction Eleven’s finger is pointing. He thinks maybe someone calls out to him but he doesn’t turn around to find out. The sand pulls at his feet, sinking in with every step, slowing his pace far more than he’d like. It’s exhausting, but eventually he can see a jutting craggy outcrop of rocks up ahead and so he pushes on. The rocks are sharp and slick with seaweed and he struggles to clamber up high enough to get a good view beyond it. The sea has eroded the stone away in the centre, creating a neat little divot of sandy beach, enclosed on three sides, only accessible by climbing or swimming. It would be a cool hangout spot, no doubt a popular make out point for locals, until the tide comes in and the little beach is plunged underwater.

Despite the myriad of tiny cuts on his hands from the sharp climb, Steve lets out a heavy sigh of relief as he looks down into the secluded cove and sees both Eddie and Dustin perched up on a shelf of rock above the incoming tide, both looking soaked through but otherwise uninjured.

“What took you so long?!” Dustin yells up at him the moment his presence is noted. Steve tries to ignore the way Eddie pointedly avoids looking at him.

“Is now really the time to yell at the guy trying to save you both?” Steve huffs, assessing the situation more closely now that the cold panic is fading from his system. “Can’t you swim out of here yourselves anyway?” He asks, looking from the rising ocean waters to the waterlogged duo.

“Eddie hurt his leg and I can’t swim both of us out of here.” Dustin replies. “I tried.” He adds, which explains the wet clothes.

“Shit.” Steve says, more to himself than to anyone else. The tips of Eddie’s ears have gone pink but he’s still apparently refusing to look in Steve’s direction. Steve pauses for just a moment, then nods. “I’ll swim around to you.”

He removes his shoes, socks and t-shirt, leaving his shorts on because he didn’t think to grab his trunks when he was frantically rushing out of the Winnebago. The dark rock stretches much farther out to sea than he initially thought from the beach, and it takes a good few minutes to find a section he can easily swim over. Thankfully the waves are relatively gentle, and he soon finds himself in the little inlet, the water here shallow enough for him to stand and, just for effect, to fold his arms disapprovingly at the pair of them.

“Maybe next time don’t ignore the ‘no climbing’ signs.” He chides, staring Dustin down, daring him to talk back or try to shift the blame. The younger boy opens his mouth as if to dispute the accusation, but clearly thinks better of it.

“I’ll help Eddie, you get back to the others.” He nods at Dustin, who doesn’t wait for any other instructions, pushing himself off the rocky shelf and into the water with a loud splash. Steve watches as he swims noisily away in the direction of the larger beach. A few quiet seconds pass after he leaves the enclosure of the rocks, the only sound is the occasional splash of waves slapping the inlet’s stony walls.

Steve stands stock-still in the warm waters, gently buffeted by the waves at his back, Eddie sits on the little shelf of rock, one damp denim-clad knee pulled up to his chest, still resolutely avoiding looking at Steve. Having no intention of leaving without Eddie in-tow, Steve waits for the stalemate to end, waits and watches for some kind of sign, some kind of opening in Eddie’s defences. In the meantime he looks him over intently for any other signs of injury. There’s a small scratch on Eddie’s cheek, another on the elbow closest to Steve, both of which he would very much like to press gentle kisses against before giving them a liberal coating of antiseptic and slapping a plaster over them. Other than that Eddie’s right ankle is heavily grazed, blood clearly visible on his foot and the hems of his jeans. Thankfully it doesn’t look broken, but definitely painful enough to make swimming difficult.

“Why did you come?”

It’s murmured so quietly Steve almost doesn’t hear it, isn’t sure if Eddie is speaking to him or to himself for a moment, but then Eddie repeats the question with more force. He doesn’t sound angry, at least, not entirely, there’s a hint of frustration to it, and an overlying sense of confusion and disbelief.

“You two went missing and Eleven said there was blood and sharp rocks where you were. Why wouldn’t I come and help you?”

“Because I’m a fuck-up and I fucked things up again, and now you hate me?” Eddie’s eyes finally alight on Steve’s, wide and vulnerable. They remind Steve too much of how Eddie had looked when they’d found him at the boat house, like a wounded animal, scared for his life. His heart jolts in his chest, heavy thudding filling his ears with the sound.

“I don’t hate you…” Steve says, his heart playing tick-tac-toe against his ribs. When Eddie clearly doesn’t believe him, he pushes on without really thinking about what he’s saying. “I don’t hate you, Eds. Look, after you left last night I spoke to Jonathan and he was super high but he said some stuff that made me realise how much I’d fucked up and then I spoke to Robin and she said that we both messed up and then I had another nightmare and you were all gone when I woke up and Jay came and spoke to me and I totally understand why you like him so much now but I was really jealous of him because you two have so much in common and all the things we have in common are like, trauma and the upside-down and that’s not a good basis for a relationship and I thought you’d gotten bored of me because you found this new guy and I have been losing my mind this whole trip trying to figure out how to ask you out because I’ve never dated a guy before and I didn’t want to fuck it up because I really fucking like you and I think I’ve ruined this whole trip for you because I’ve been such an asshole the whole time and you and the kids just wanted to get out of Hawkins for a bit but all I can think about is getting back to Hawkins because I can’t fucking kiss you with like ten other people around all the god-damn time.” Steve judders to a halt, heaving in lungfuls of air, panting from the exertion and barely aware of what he had been saying just a few seconds before.

“…what?” Eddie finally responds, his expression flitting between confused and hopeful for a few moments.

Steve hesitates, unsure now how best to proceed. He takes another breath, deciding to go for the direct approach. “We should talk later, properly, when you’re not injured, damp and in danger of drowning, but… I really fucking like you, Eds, and I’m really fucking sorry it’s taken me so long to tell you.”

Steve steps forward, close enough to feel the rocks against his stomach and slowly reaches out to grasp Eddie’s hand gently in his own. In what might be the cheesiest move he’s ever attempted, he lifts Eddies’ hand to his mouth and kisses his knuckles lightly. Eddie stares down at him, like he can’t quite believe what he’s seeing, and Steve is desperately relieved when he feels Eddie’s fingers tighten around his own.

“I really fucking like you, too…” Eddie replies quietly.

Steve laughs, resting his face on Eddie’s hand for a moment as the giddiness subsides. With no one else around it’s a lot easier to just exist, to relax his shoulders and unclench his jaw and not have to think about the safety and wellbeing of at least five other people at all times. Eddie’s skin is soft and warm, salt-kissed and pleasant against his forehead and he takes a few deep steadying breaths before surfacing once more. Straightening up, he takes a small step back, releasing Eddie’s hand as he goes.

“Tonight we’re having a proper talk, Munson.”

“Whatever you want, sweetcheeks.” Eddie grins back. “Now please carry me out of here before these tiny crabs start eating me.” Steve looks down at the rock Eddie is sitting on, alarmed. Sure enough several small pebble-blue crabs have begun to form a loose perimeter around Eddie’s injured leg, miniscule pincers waving ominously in the air.

It’s not too difficult to manoeuvre Eddie off the rocks and into the water, though Steve doesn’t miss the pained look that crosses Eddie’s face as his injured leg is submerged. Hooking his arm around Eddie’s chest and under his shoulders, Steve pulls them both through the water towards the end of the rocky outcrop. The waves are slightly rougher than they had been earlier, but they reach the main beach without too much difficulty.

Steve takes a moment to pull his t-shirt back on, but decides carrying his socks and shoes is probably more sensible than shoving them back on his wet, sand-encrusted feet. Noticing how unstable Eddie is even on land, he pulls the injured man close and they walk in comfortable silence back towards the rest of the party.

Chapter Text

The walk back to the group seems to take much less time than Steve’s earlier mad sprint. They don’t talk. Steve is far too focused on keeping Eddie steady and not tripping on his own feet to come up with anything witty or meaningful to say, anyway. Plus, the feel of Eddie’s hand fisted into the back of Steve’s shirt is too pleasant to allow him to form any coherent thoughts. He’s really trying not to think about it, but every other step he can feel knuckles rubbing against his spine. Eddie is equally quiet, his breath hitching every time his injured leg touches down. Steve can’t even begin to imagine what the metalhead might be thinking about as they trudge awkwardly through the sand. Experimentally, Steve squeezes his grip on Eddie tighter and after a moment the man obligingly leans in a fraction closer. Steve feels his cheeks flush, and wills the blood to remain there and not begin its usual Eddie-induced descent southwards. By the time they reach the party the friction of Eddie’s hand on his back has Steve longing for the privacy of Eddie’s bedroom back in Hawkins. Or, if he’s completely honest, the privacy of anywhere within a 5-mile radius that comes with a shower and doesn’t ask any questions.

“What the hell happened?” Nancy is first in line to interrogate. Behind her, Dustin looks downcast and sheepish, probably the result of having recently suffered the same fate.

“Climbed some rocks. Slipped.” Eddie replies, standing gingerly on his own two feet. Steve takes a small step away, very aware of the way Eddie is still wobbling slightly.

“-It was all my fault. I told you. Eddie only played along because of me, he wouldn’t have gotten hurt if I hadn’t insisted we go over there.” Dustin pipes up, indignant.

“No.” Eddie sighs, as Nancy opens her mouth to speak once more. “I’m supposed to be the adult, I should have known better. Sorry for…making you all worry.” Eddie genuinely looks contrite, too. Usually when he and Dustin cause an incident he brushes it off with a lackadaisical grin, this change of tact has everyone around him reeling. Nancy stares at him in disbelief. Dustin looks, if anything, even more downcast than he had earlier.

“Luckily Stevie Wonder was here to come running to my rescue.” Eddie adds, patting Steve on the shoulder. “Regular old Knight in shining armour this one.” He adds, leaning his weight onto Steve once more.

“Well…you’re both back now so, I guess it’s fine.” Nancy concedes, looking curiously between Steve and Eddie. “You should get your leg looked at, though. You’re bleeding.” She nods down at Eddie’s foot, there’s a small trickle of blood running down his foot, soaking into the sand.

“There’s a first aid kit back at the shop.” Jay speaks up, turning to throw a thumbs up at a lifeguard lingering in the back. Steve looks at Eddie, Eddie shrugs, and they follow behind Jay’s retreating back as he begins leading the way.

“We won’t be long, stay here.” Steve calls back to Nancy and the group, even though none of them have actually moved to follow and most of the teens are already a few feet away tossing a frisbee around. Only Dustin seems to be paying attention, worriedly chewing his lip.

The inside of the surf shop is refreshingly cool, the radio playing something with a lot of steel drums at a comfortably low volume. The person behind the counter smiles at them, her long braids pulled back from her face with a shimmering green scarf.

“Hello love, Jay’s in the back grabbing the kit now, have a seat on this while you wait.” The woman moves a stool around from behind the counter and Eddie relinquishes his hold on Steve as he sits down heavily, gingerly resting his injured foot at a slight angle. Steve stands awkwardly nearby. His main task of getting Eddie to the shop now complete, he isn’t quite sure if he should stay or go back to the others.

“Hi sugar, I’m Maurine, Jay’s mother.” Seeing Eddie safely seated on the stool, the woman turns her attention to Steve, a welcoming smile on her face, she reaches one hand over the counter towards him.

“Nice to meet you, I’m Steve Harrington, I uh…” Steve balks, hand outstretched, his mind drawing a spectacular blank. Should he say he’s Eddie’s friend? Surely that much is obvious considering the situation? Then again he’s not really sure how much Jay’s mother knows about Eddie, or the road trip. He clearly pauses too long trying to finish his sentence, because Eddie speaks up before he can come up with something sensible to say.

“He’s the babysitter.” Eddie chuckles, and Steve is already smacking him in the shoulder with an indignant ‘hey!’ before he can stop himself.

“Clearly you need one of those if you can’t read the ‘no climbing’ signs.” Maurine chuckles, squeezing Steve’s hand tightly and giving Eddie a knowing look. Eddie clamps his mouth shut, suitably cowed. Thankfully Jay appears a moment later with a metal box in hand and a determined look on his face.

“I did a first-aid course when I started teaching surfing lessons. I can finally use my skills!”

“Oh great, I’m patient zero.” Eddie deadpans, but his lack of enthusiasm fails to diminish Jay’s excitement.

“First, we have to assess the wound, then clean it.” Jay mutters, cracking open the metal first aid box and pulling out a variety of things.

“Need any help?” Steve asks, mostly because he feels completely useless standing around and also because the upside-down has given him plenty of experience bandaging limbs.

“We need a bowl of warm water and some clean cloths. Mum, can you show him?”

“This way hon.” Maurine gestures and Steve hurriedly follows the older woman through to the back of the store.

Under the watchful eyes of Jay’s mum, Eddie’s ankle is cleaned and disinfected before being carefully taped and bandaged. Steve is used to blood, used to cleaning out wounds in less-than ideal situations, but every time Eddie winces he feels it in his chest like a knife. He positions himself to one side of the stool, out of the way of Jay and Maurine, but close enough to reach out and comfort the metal-head if needed. To an outsider he hopes he just looks like a concerned friend watching intently. Eddie chooses to grip the sides of the stool with both hands as he does his best to stay still while Jay ensures there’s no sand embedded in any of the wounds. Eventually Maurine gives Jay a nod and after a few minutes of clearing away and repacking the first aid box the three find themselves returning to the rest of the group. Bandaged and having been forced to take painkillers, Eddie is a little less new-born lamb-like on his feet. Steve misses the warm weight of his body against his as they reach the others and haul ass back to the campsite.

***

The inside of the Winnebago looks like it’s been hit by a tornado. Steve watches on in horror as the teens rummage through their bags, tossing clothes left and right to find towels and shower things. Almost everyone who spent the day at the beach piles into the campsite showers as soon as they get back, leaving Steve, Jonathan and Argle to prepare the fire and food.

“You good, dude?” Argyle drawls, as Steve rummages through the kitchen cupboards.

“Yeah, just trying to find the damn mac’n’cheese mix…” Steve mutters.

“You mean this?”

Steve removes his head from the cupboard to look, and Argyle waves two familiar blue boxes in front of his face with a grin.

“How did you…” Steve begins but instantly thinks better of it. “N-never mind, thanks Argyle.”

“No problemo my guy. You and Eddie make up yet?”

Steve barely manages to avoid cracking his head on the kitchen counter in shock as Argyle blindsides him. He gets to his feet carefully, staring at Argyle and then glancing around to make sure no one is within earshot.

“Y-you…how do you do that? How did you even…?” Steve splutters uselessly, Argyle waves away his response.

“Hey, love is love, amiright? I just wanna see my friends happy, bro. I’m not gonna narc on you if that’s what you’re worried about.”

And, because it’s Argyle, who appears to have not a single malicious bone in their entire body. Argyle who showed up with a can-do attitude, a calm acceptance about the existence of a nightmare world underneath their own and a seemingly endless supply of weed and pizza dough. Argyle who drove El, Mike, Will and Jonathan across the country all whilst narrowly avoiding being assassinated by the CIA and having to bury a dead body in the desert. Because it’s that Argyle, who looks at Jonathan like the guy hung the moon in the night-sky specifically for them, Steve believes them without a second thought.

“We’re working on it…” Steve sighs, pulling out the largest cooking pot he can find and placing it on the wonky stove. “Trying to, at least.”

“You just need to talk it out dude. Open and honest communication is the key to any successful relationship.” Argyle says, patting him on the shoulder sagely.

Not for the first time in a conversation with Argyle, Steve has no idea how to respond, other than a nod and a promise that he’ll try his best. Argyle, clearly having said all they wanted to, pulls a can of soda from the fridge and heads back outside to help Jonathan stack the kindling for the fire. Steve watches through the window as the pair crouch down around the fire pit, Jonathan taking charge of placing the sticks, whilst Argyle looks happy enough to fetch and carry for the man. Whatever’s going on between the perpetually stoned pair (even Steve isn’t foolish enough to assume it’s purely friendship) doesn’t seem nearly as complex as what Steve has been imagining his and Eddie’s relationship to be. Steve wishes for a moment that he could be as laid-back as Argyle about, well, anything in his life anymore. He used to feel that way about school, used to just ride the waves of his life wherever they took him, only really putting in effort where his parents expected it. Now, the healing scars on his back and sides ache as he starts preparing dinner for everyone, a constant reminder of the very real threats facing him and the party, and his years of low-risk coasting seem very far away indeed.

As the others begin to trickle back to the Winnebago, conversation picks up outside and Steve hears snippets here and there as he works at the stove. It seems Argle and Jonathan have plans to stay a few more days with Argyle’s family in Cali before Jonathan starts college. This news is followed swiftly by Nancy asking to join the Winnebago crew for the return journey to Hawkins. The teens start up a fuss about how little space there will be in the campervan with a whole extra person to fit in, but there’s really no other option for Nancy so they begrudgingly accept the situation. Steve notes the careful but deliberate distance being kept between Jonathan and Nancy as they corral the teens into setting up their tents for the night. Maybe Nancy finally decided to end things, Steve wonders, recalling their conversation from a few days prior, or perhaps it’s just another lovers tiff. It’s definitely not his place to pry, but given Nancy’s recent digs into his own love-life, Steve files the knowledge away for later, focusing back on the growing pile of cheese he’s currently grating.

Eddie hops inside the campervan a little after everyone else, hair tied up, a damp towel and wash bag clutched to his chest. He’s still limping slightly, and Steve’s full attention is trained on him as he passes by and slumps onto one of the sofas with a huff. A gentle waft of lemon soap fills Steve’s nose for a fraction of a second.

“Housewife Harrington at it again, hmm?” Eddie speaks so low Steve almost doesn’t catch it over the voices from outside. A jolt of pleasure rushes through his veins and there’s definitely a dumb smile on his face as he turns away from the bubbling pot on the stove to look at Eddie.

“Still no apron, I’m afraid.” He shrugs back.

“Ah well. A guy can dream.” Eddie says with a wry smile, tugging on a plaid shirt and shoving his washbag back into his duffel bag.

The tension of uncertainty is still markedly there, a thrum of disconnected energy floating in the space between and around them without anywhere to go. The unspoken things, the unresolved miscommunications and hurt feelings, it’s all still there, an unpleasant sourness to an otherwise sweet exchange. But when Eddie gets to his feet once more to head out and join the gang now sitting around the campfire, Steve catches his hand as he passes and for a brief moment the tension eases. Eddie’s guitar-rough fingers brush the inside of Steve’s palm and Steve’s knees feel like they’re about to buckle. He grips the kitchen side with his free hand. A moment later the touch is gone and Steve is left with a steaming pot of mac’n’cheese and a desperate desire for the evening’s festivities to end as soon as humanly possible.

Jay, having returned to his own house for a few hours, shows up at the campsite with a cooler of drinks and ice cream, and a truly unconscionable amount of homemade coleslaw. The night’s meal is equal parts celebratory and solemn. Steve busies himself with ensuring everyone else is fed and hydrated before scarfing down a bowl himself. Then he’s rushing around making sure the impromptu fireworks Jonathan and Jay start setting off don’t set anything or anyone on fire. It’s also Steve who ends up doing most of the washing up, whilst the teens dry and put everything away. From the window of the Winnebago, hands deep in sudsy water he watches fondly as Eddie and Jay chatter away, no doubt talking about something extremely nerdy that Steve might never understand. He looks away a moment too late, Eddie’s eyes finding him with a knowing grin. It’s gone a moment later, Eddie turning back to listen to Jay once more, but it leaves Steve feeling flushed and heady, nonetheless.

“Gross.” Max deadpans, flicking a dishcloth in Steve’s face, bringing him crashing back to reality. He turns to cuss the redhead out, but she’s smiling so fondly at him all his anger melts away. “But y’know…only cause you’re both like brothers to me, or whatever...” Max turns away to pick up the next dish in need of drying, but Steve can see her reddening cheeks, nonetheless. He nudges her affectionately with his elbow and focuses on washing up once more.

By the time the dishes are all clean and put away, and the small kitchen area is wiped down, Eddie has reluctantly been pressured into playing his guitar by the boys. Perhaps that isn’t entirely true, Eddie had seemed perfectly happy to comply the moment Dustin mentioned it, but he put up a token amount of resistance, nonetheless. Steve finds himself sitting wedged between Argyle and Nancy, a slightly warm beer in his hand and the campfire even warmer against his cheeks. There’s a world in which he’s gotten used to the sight and sound of Eddie performing, but it’s certainly not this one, and he’s glad for the campfire’s excessive heat giving a valid excuse for his flushed cheeks.

After a short warm-up, Eddie asks for requests and is bombarded by song titles from the teens who have all scooted closer to hear the non-acoustic guitar strings. Why Eddie chose to bring the electric guitar with him Steve has yet to figure out, especially when he has a perfectly good acoustic one back at the trailer park. The music is good though, Eddie’s voice is soon accompanied by the slightly less melodic but very enthusiastic tones of Dustin and El, and even Steve finds himself humming and tapping his foot along to Eddie’s rendition of “Karma Chameleon”. The more time passes the more Steve starts to think that maybe they don’t need to talk that night, maybe it can wait till the next day, or the day after that. Maybe he can just go to sleep and wake up the next morning and it’ll all be fixed and Eddie will be his boyfriend? Stranger things have certainly happened to them both, after all. Just as he’s about to put a mental pin in the whole debacle, Eddie finishes his song with a flourish and puts his beloved guitar down. Despite the cries for an encore from most of the people around the steadily dying campfire, Eddie is unmoved, giving a loud yawn and stretching back in his folding lawn chair.

“I’m all outta gas kiddos, sorry.” He sighs, patting his jean pockets as if looking for something.

“C’mon, just a few more songs!” Dustin wheedles, he’s sat to Eddie’s right on a folded-up blanket and is currently gripping the arm of Eddie’s chair with some force, Steve watches the chair wobble slightly under the weight.

“Too much of a good thing, Henderson.” Eddie shakes his head soberly, as if he’d really like to play more but some power out of his control simply won’t allow him. He continues to check his pockets for a few moments before looking up and seeming to catch Argyle’s eye for a brief but meaningful second.

“Oh! Heyyy if you kiddos want more tunes I’ve got my ukulele in the van.” Argyle speaks up quickly, and Steve looks between the stoner and Eddie curiously. He can sense something is going on, but he’s clearly not been made privy to the exact details.

“That settles it then.” Eddie says, swinging himself to his feet with a huff. “In the meantime, I need a cigarette…” The metal-head mutters to himself, leaving the campfire circle and heading into the campervan.

Argyle slopes off towards the Pizza van to retrieve the aforementioned ukulele at almost the same time, leaving two empty seats around the campfire and a very confused Steve. The answer only comes to him when Eddie slumps back over to the group looking distressed.

“I’m out of cigarettes…” He says, frowning deeply.

“Didn’t you buy some this morning at the beach?”

Eddie looks at Nancy and sighs.

“I did… and then they went for an impromptu swim.” He holds out his hand to reveal a sad, sodden cardboard package which falls with a wet ‘plop’ to the ground. Nancy wrinkles her nose at it.

“I’m sure there’s a gas station nearby you can get some from.” She shrugs, sipping her beer.

“On my own? With my fucked-up leg? No way.”

And that’s when Steve understands, because Eddie glances in his direction and gives him a look as if to say, ‘get on with it, then’ and he has to restrain himself from jumping to his feet in an effort to comply. Instead, he huffs, puts his drink down and pushes himself to his feet like he’s really put out by the whole situation.

“Guess you want me to come running to your rescue again, then?”

“Awh Stevie, what would I do without you?” Eddie grins, clasping his hands together like a swooning maiden.

“Yeah-yeah, enough with the dramatics, Eds.” Steve can feel the smile desperate to break across his face and fights to keep it at bay as he walks over to the Winnebago to grab his wallet.

“Do we need anything else, Nance?” He asks as he returns, but then Eddie is slipping an arm around his shoulders and Steve forgets to listen to what Nancy says in response. No matter though, as the metalhead is soon steering them both away from the group with a cheery wave as Argyle starts playing ‘I get around’ by The Beach Boys.

***

They find a convenience store after ten minutes of aimless, silent, walking. Steve pays for two cartons of smokes (the ones that don’t hurt his throat) a coffee for himself and a slushie for Eddie. There’s not much around except for residential buildings and shuttered beach shops, but they keep walking until they find a park that’s big enough to be discreet and also, conveniently, devoid of all other people. Steve is tugged towards a cluster of picnic benches off to one side, partially hidden by palm trees. The faint light of a nearby streetlamp bathes the entire area in a dim orange glow.

In the moment, sitting on top of the bench seems like a lot less effort. Eddie follows suit and Steve sets his coffee to one side, handing Eddie one of the cartons of cigarettes without a word. For a minute or two he stares off into the distance, listening to the rustle of the carton being opened and the click of Eddie’s lighter, all of it sounding distant and quiet compared to the deafening thud-thud-thud of his heart. The smell of smoke burns his nostrils for a second before shaking fingers hold the filter end of a lit cigarette to his lips.

“Thanks…”

After all the time Steve has spent wishing for an opportunity to talk, now that he’s got both the time and the privacy in which to do so, he’s at a loss for words. He takes an unnecessarily long drag from the cigarette and almost chokes on the plume of smoke that forces its way into his lungs. He exhales with a wince, eyes watering.

“So…should we flip a coin…?” Eddie breaks the increasingly awkward silence before Steve fully spirals into despair.

“Huh?”

“Y’know, decide who goes first? You’re the expert on this kinda stuff, so…” Eddie’s voice is shaky as he speaks and he’s fidgeting with the cuff of his shirt. What exactly Eddie thinks Steve of all people is the ‘expert’ on is unclear, but even Steve knows he can’t keep avoiding the conversation forever. He clears his throat, pulls more smoke into his lungs like that might help, and exhales heavily before turning to look at the man sitting beside him.

“I don’t mind, you wanna go first?”

Eddie laughs, it’s jittery and frantic and he’s still fiddling with the button on his cuff, knee bouncing erratically, staring intently downwards so Steve can’t see his face properly.

“Not really… think I might throw up if I’m honest.”

Steve wants to ask why, but honestly he feels much the same so maybe it’s a good sign that Eddie’s also feeling vaguely nauseous about the whole thing?

“Sure, I’ll start I guess.”

Where to start, then, becomes the biggest problem. Should he just confess again? Ask Eddie out and get it over with? It feels too easy, and besides, Argyle had said that clear communication is key, so shoving all his other feelings down in favour of just sugar-coating the entire thing is probably not the best plan of attack. How, then, to best approach the mess of confused but hopeful emotions sitting heavy in Steve’s chest. Where should he start pulling at the treads of this tangled mess he’s gotten himself into. His coffee is bitter and gritty but he drinks it anyway, the taste mingling with the smoke coating the inside of his mouth. He’s so distracted he can’t tell if it’s delicious or disgusting.

“What happened with Jay, at the festival?” The question, the thing Steve finally manages to ask after long minutes of terse silence, hangs heavy in the still air as he waits for the response.

“Nothing happened.” Eddie’s response is so earnest it’s almost painful.

“So… the condoms?” Steve’s heard Jay’s side of this story already, but a part of him can’t relax until Eddie confirms it as well.

“I gave him the box, because this girl was hanging all over him and he didn’t have any. It’s why I took them with me in the first place, festivals are gross and I figured if I had them at least I could help a few people avoid catching anything.”

“Is that why you packed them for the trip?”

“What?”

“The rubbers… and the lube.” Steve struggles to even say it, his face burning.

Eddie fidgets, but says nothing. Steve waits as the gaping maw of panic and doubt threatens to swallow him whole. Somehow this conversation feels infinitely scarier than fighting Vecna.

“Eds…?” Steve asks when Eddie remains silent.

“I wasn’t going to bring them, but… Wayne asked about it and I thought it’s better to be safe than sorry, if we stayed in a motel or something… I mean… my self-control has been non-existent recently and I figured it’s better to have them, I guess? After a few days you’d made it pretty clear that nothing was going to be happening so… I took them to the festival. Might as well help some other people get lucky since I wasn’t going to be using them any time soon…”

Eddie’s voice is distant, his tone turns ever so slightly bitter towards the end and it stings as it sinks in, but Steve wanted answers, and he’s been given them, so all he can do is sit there feeling like shit but marginally less like shit than he’d been feeling moments before.

“Did you-“ Steve begins, before Eddie cuts him off hastily.

“Fuck, s-sorry, can I ask one now?”

Steve, caught off guard by the unexpected interruption, simply nods. Eddie catches his eye with a burning expression and then looks away at almost the same second, his unruly hair forming a curtain to hide whatever emotions he’s currently experiencing. The jittery bounce of his knee has not let up, so Steve can at least surmise that he’s still feeling pretty anxious. It takes a lot of willpower to not reach out and quell the motion with his palm, feel the warmth of Eddie’s body heat against his skin through the rough, torn-up jeans, squeeze the sinewy muscles of his lower thigh. He’s still staring longingly at the metal-heads partially exposed knee when Eddie speaks again, this time in a voice choked with barely concealed panic.

“Are you trying to end things, Stevie? Trying to say you want to break up? B-because if you are, could you get on with it? I already feel like dog shit and I don’t know how much more I can take of this.” Steve opens his mouth to speak but Eddie continues, breath hitching erratically. “It’s fine, I-I get it, you tried it out for a bit, but this-” He gestures at himself with a haphazard swipe of his hand, a trail of cigarette ash following the motion “-just isn’t working out for you. I know I’m a tough pill to swallow, I say the wrong things, I don’t know how to act, I get too attached way too quickly, I get it. So… i-if that’s what this is about, then… look, just put me out of my misery, please? I’ll get over it… eventually.”

Eddie falls silent, hanging his head. His restless fidgeting stops completely, and Steve can feel the tension in the air around them both, like Eddie is waiting for the line to be cut. It doesn’t make sense, why is Eddie worried that he might want to end things? Why is Eddie asking if he wants to break up when he hasn’t had the chance to even ask the guy out yet? Has Eddie been assuming they were dating the entire time? Did Steve somehow develop a very specific form of amnesia from all the head trauma that only made him forget the part where he and Eddie are dating? There’s no other option but to respond with the truth, or at least his side of the truth, as ridiculous as it may sound. He takes another drag on the rapidly dwindling cigarette squashed between his fingers before speaking.

“The thing is, Eds…” Steve sighs heavily, stubbing out the smoke on the side of the bench and leaning forward. “Until Jonathan mentioned it, I didn’t even think we were dating.” Eddie makes a noise as if to interject, or perhaps a very accurate impression of a small but incredulous mouse, but Steve doesn’t stop. “I thought… god, I don’t know what I fucking thought… That it was just hooking up for you? That if I asked for more you’d push me away for being too much? I didn’t even know I was into guys before you, it was all so much so fast and I figured… I figured I shouldn’t get greedy. You never talked about it, we never talked about, y’know, being exclusive or whatever, so…”

“You… didn’t think we were? Oh…” Eddie’s voice is suddenly very small. Steve cringes, nodding.

“And you thought… we were?” He asks, eyes clenched shut. Steve has never wanted a hole in the ground to come and swallow him more than in this precise moment.

“Well, it’s not like I’ve had that much experience in the area, but, yeah. I assumed… I mean we never said it in that many words, but… Shit, there I go again, wildly misinterpreting the situation.” Eddie sighs, and then, much quieter, grumbles to himself “Get it the fuck together Munson…”

Steve opens his eyes again and waits for his vision to adjust to the dim orange lighting once more, staring at Eddie. Eddie, in turn, stares down at his ragged sneakers. The same sneakers he’s worn to Steve’s house countless times, the same sneakers he’s scaled the wall of Steve’s house in oh-so-many times, the same sneakers that hit the carpet first when he clambers through Steve’s bedroom window at 2am. He scootches a little closer to Eddie on the bench, until their knees are almost touching. The proximity makes Steve a little woozy, his skin feeling hotter the closer it gets to Eddie, who’s radiating heat and the mild aroma of campfire smoke.

There’s probably a lot of other things they should talk about. Steve is certain he hasn’t ticked every concern off of his list just yet, but in this moment, there’s only one thing Steve wants to ask, and when he opens his mouth, hesitant to give voice to the thought that’s been nagging at his mind for almost two months solid, for the first time, the words don’t get stuck in his throat.

“I want to be dating you, Eds. That is, if you still want me?” Steve’s heart races as the words fall into the space between them, small and quiet and yet the biggest and most important words Steve thinks he’s ever said.

“I wouldn’t have been fucking you every day for the last two months if I didn’t want to be dating you, Steve.” Eddie mutters, closing the distance between them a little more, their thighs now pressed together on the old bench. A shiver runs down Steve’s spine from the point of contact, though Eddie’s words are equally chill inducing.

“Oh.”

In the midst of his mixed feelings of confusion and longing and the roiling nerves of having to have a proper conversation with Eddie, it hadn’t really registered that they are finally all alone, very far away from the rest of the group. It occurs to him now, though, and Steve turns to face those ridiculous doe eyes that he thinks he might drown in someday and that stupid, long haired, smirking face and everything else becomes muted background noise.

“Eds…” He breathes, in a tone so close to reverence that Eddie’s eyes widen for a second.

“Steve if you don’t kiss me right now I-“ Eddie doesn’t get to finish whatever threat he has in mind, because Steve has already closed the few inches of distance between them, tilting Eddie’s chin up slightly with finger and thumb and pulling their lips together.

His mouth tastes like cigarettes and blue raspberry slushie, an unpleasant mix at the best of times, but then Eddie leans in and hums into the kiss, a small, indulgently happy sound that reverberates in Steve’s chest and he honestly couldn’t care less.

After not nearly long enough, Steve pulls away, keeping their faces close so he can stare into Eddie’s eyes, pupils wide as saucers. Eddie’s eyebrow quirks up, questioning. Steve hesitates and then, though it takes all his self-control to do so, he relinquishes his hold on Eddie’s face and sits back slightly.

“Okay…but, just out of curiosity…” Steve runs a slightly shaking hand through his hair. More than anything he’d like to go back to kissing, but now that the dam has cracked, he wants to clear up as much as possible before they have to return to the Winnebago and the others. “Just hypothetically, y’know? W-when…” he drops his gaze from Eddie’s face. “When do you think we started dating…?”

“Ah.” Eddie sits up a little straighter. “Well…we kissed at that ‘released from hospital’ party at your place, right?”

“Yeah…”

“Aaand then, I stayed over yours for a few nights and we…”

“Had sex, a lot, yeah. Pretty impossible to forget, actually.”

Even in the orange light Steve can see Eddie’s cheeks flush. He rubs the back of his neck awkwardly. Steve desperately wants to pin him down onto the bench and deal with everything another day, he grips the wood beneath him to hold himself back.

“Then after that you started visiting the trailer at night, that’s sort of when I figured out you weren’t just, I don’t know, experimenting? Or…having some kind of crisis.”

“Y-you thought-?”

Eddie waves away Steve’s hurried apologies, grinning.

“I mean, I did sort of freak out at first, it’s not every day you get snogged by Hawkins most eligible bachelor. Wasn’t about to turn you down though. But then I spoke to Robin about it and she told me all about your huge crush on me so…” he shrugs. Steve stares at him blankly for a moment, vaguely remembering his conversation with Robin the night before.

“You…told Robin, about…?” He asks, pointing from himself to Eddie to illustrate his meaning.

“’course I did. You didn’t?”

“I mean…I told her about liking dudes but I didn’t…y’know, specify.” He waves a hand at Eddie.

“Fuck. Aren’t you supposed to be best friends?” Eddie stares back at him incredulously.

“We are! And I did think about telling her, I just…wasn’t sure what to say.” Steve shrugs helplessly. He hadn’t actively kept the information from her, but he hadn’t wanted to say anything until he had an actual name to give to their situation.

“You never wondered why she didn’t say anything about your extra-long lunch breaks? Or how they always coincided with me showing up at the store?”

“They weren’t THAT long…”

“She’s never going to let you live this down…” Eddie chuckles, and Steve groans, the truth of that statement sinking in like a concrete block.

“She knows now. I called her after… after what happened. Told her everything.”

“Well, that explains why her phone line was busy last night.”

“You called her, too?”

“Tried to.” Eddie shrugs, placing a hand very deliberately on Steve’s knee, squeezing gently. Steve feels the touch judder through his entire body. He thought he was building a stronger resistance to the metalhead, but judging by the rush of blood away from his brain at this precise moment, it wasn’t working quite as well as he had hoped.

“Why did you think I wanted to end things?” It comes out sounding much less casual and much more strained than he’d hoped, but Steve is going to blame that on the slow circles Eddie’s thumb is currently rubbing into his thigh.

“You’ve been avoiding me this entire trip, even when we were alone you’d keep as much distance as possible between us, you basically flinched if I went near you. Then we got here and you were always hanging out with Nancy…” Eddie frowns, scrunching his nose. “I thought you’d just had enough of me, seeing your ex reminded you that you’re into girls and the glamour wore off, or something…” Eddie sighs, the slow circles stop, much to Steve’s dismay.

“That’s not… I don’t- Nance and I are friends, that’s all. All that stupid shit I said back in Hawkins when we were fighting Vecna, I was just caught up in the moment and thinking I was walking into certain death. I don’t want Nancy. I want you, Eds, only you.” Steve tries to muster as much sincerity as he can, squeezing Eddie’s hand tightly as he speaks.

“It’s okay, Stevie, I get it, really. We both got our wires crossed on this one. Besides, I’m not worried about Nancy trying to steal you, she’s moving for college in a month and you really, really like di-“

Steve’s free hand clamps over Eddie’s mouth before he can finish that particular sentence. The amused twinkle in Eddie’s eyes doesn’t fade and Steve feels the slick wetness of Eddie’s tongue licking the palm of his hand a second too late for him to release the older man with a disgusted grunt.

“Gross.”

“Eh.” Eddie shrugs with a grin. “More or less gross than the time I licked cum off your hands?”

This statement results in a childish shoving match. After the remains of Eddie’s slushie fall victim to their scuffle, they pull apart, breathing heavily and grinning like lunatics. After a tense pause Eddie yanks Steve roughly closer by the collar of his polo shirt and smashes their lips together like Steve is an oxygen tank and Eddie himself is about to drown.

***

Eventually, when their lips are slick and bruised and the kissing has long derailed into artless, messy hand jobs through their clothes, they decide without a word to head back to camp. Steve feels lighter than air as they walk in conspiratorial silence, can’t stop himself from stealing glances to his left, heart skipping a beat every time he meets Eddie’s grinning gaze. Boyfriend, boyfriend, boyfriend, Steve’s mind keeps repeating, worried he’ll wake up any moment and find out it was all some blissful dream. The campsite is quiet, the kids all gone to bed and the remaining adults sleepily drinking or stargazing around the dying fire. Jay has already gone home, leaving word that he’ll drive over the next morning to say goodbye to everyone. Jonathan is hazy eyed and leaning so far over in his chair he’s half in Argyle’s lap. Argyle is leaning back to stare up at the sky, one hand idly patting their companions hair. Nancy gives them both a tired smile as they walk up. She’s commandeered the reclining beach chair, the best seat available, and for once isn’t reading. There’s a couple of empty beer cans around the base of her chair and a cheery pink tinge to her cheeks.

“Went to Milwaukee for those cigarettes did you?” She grins, throwing Steve a curious glance whilst slowly clambering to her feet.

“Fancied a walk, last night here and all that.” Steve lies with ease, far too happy to be bothered by Detective Nancy and the way her eyes dart between him and Eddie with entirely too much interest.

“Hmm.” Nancy nods, clearly not believing a word of it, but if she’s cottoned onto the situation she doesn’t say anything, merely passes them both on her way to the Winnebago. “I’ll only be a minute, just wanna brush my teeth.” She mutters before yawning and heading inside.

Eddie sits, stretching his injured leg out in front of him with a slight wince. Not wanting to hover around the man like a desperate moth around a porch light, Steve starts folding up the few chairs that aren’t in use and stacking them against the side of Argyle’s van. This seems to kick Argyle and Jonathan out of their respective trances and they amiably set about helping Steve tidy up, bumbling around gathering empty cans and blankets.

By the time Nancy reappears to bid them all goodnight the area is as clean as two stoners and one Steve can make it. Nance, it seems, has claimed Jonathan’s tent as her own for the night and disappears into it without a word. Jonathan himself doesn’t seem too perturbed by this as he and Argyle bundle into the back of the surfer boy pizza van, giving both Steve and Eddie a cheery wave from the open door before clambering inside.

“Were they always that close and I just never noticed before?” Steve frowns, helping Eddie back to his feet.

“Jonathan and Argyle? Yeeaahh… you’re not the most observant, Love.” Eddie chuckles, and then his laugh catches in his throat as both he and Steve register what he has just said.

“Love, huh?” Steve echoes, his voice miraculously only slightly higher pitched than usual. “Run out of corny nicknames have we, Munson?”

There’s a pause, Steve can feel Eddie frozen in place, and then he relaxes and leans in closer to Steve’s side.

“Nah, just finally found one that fits.”

Chapter Text

The Winnebago is quiet as they get ready for bed, Eddie hopping about on one leg brushing his teeth whilst Steve strips down to his sleep shorts. The summer heat still lingers inside the vehicle, making everything just the other side of too warm. Steve slides the windows open to catch whatever breeze they can, knowing full well they’ll be bombarded by bugs in the night.

“Too hot to share.” Eddie muses, hands on his hips, his hair tied up haphazardly with a pink scrunchie.

“Definitely.” Steve sighs in response, exiting the bathroom with a minty fresh mouth and damp face. He’s been thinking of almost nothing else, the desire to be touching Eddie constantly having reappeared the moment they entered the Winnebago together. But Eds is right, it’s unpleasantly humid, plus the thought of being caught by one or all of the teens the following morning scares him shitless.

“Damn.” Eddie slumps onto his own bed, stretching back with one knee bent, injured leg sticking out over the side.

Steve isn’t one to turn down such an appealing offering, even if it is far too warm to be touching. He crosses the room in two strides and leans over Eddie, placing one hand beside his head, the other cupping his cheek as he dips lower for a kiss. It’s intoxicating, this new dynamic, Steve no longer having to second guess his every thought and desire. Eddie’s hand reaches up to cradle the back of his neck, pulling him in closer, mouth opening with a hot sigh against Steve’s. God, Steve is dizzy already, the slick weight of Eddie’s tongue rough against his own. Eddie props himself up on one elbow, his knee grazes Steve’s junk in the process and Steve grunts. Their mouths slip out of sync for a moment, teeth grazing lips, knocking together as Eddie giggles and Steve tries to regain a semblance of composure.

“Fuck, it’s definitely too hot for this…” Steve huffs, resting his head in the crook of Eddie’s neck for a moment, breathing heavily. In truth he’s uncomfortably sweaty and fighting the blood rushing rapidly downwards is not helping the matter at all.

“Way too hot.” Steve repeats glumly, standing up straight and looking down at Eddie, eating up the vision before him.

Eddie looks sinful, spread out on his paper-thin mattress, cheeks flushed, lips wet with saliva, hair a mess of dark curls already tugged loose from the scrunchie.

“Far too many people nearby.” Eddie hums, dark eyes raking up and down Steve’s body. “And you’re so noisy, Love.” He adds with a knowing shrug and Steve can’t argue, doesn’t want to argue.

“Never heard you complaining.” Steve says with a grin.

“And you never will.” Eddie says, reaching out for Steve’s hand, hanging loose at his side now. He pulls it close, kissing each knuckle affectionately whilst maintaining searing eye contact with an increasingly horny Steve.

“Bedtime, Eds.”

“I know.” Eddie mutters, lips now trailing up Steve’s palm, nuzzling the heated flesh of his wrist.

“Eds…” Steve’s tone is bordering on pleading now; he’d pull his hand away if he wasn’t rooted to the spot. Eddie has reached the crook of his elbow now, sucking lightly at the sweat dampened skin, the barest hint of tongue flickering out to taste. This isn’t like the kisses before, it feels so much more intimate, somehow.

Steve’s forgotten to breathe, leant down at an awkward angle to allow Eddie’s ministrations to continue further up his arm, now teeth are nipping ever so gently at his skin, deftly avoiding every raw scar which are instead assailed by feather light lips. Eddie's free hand is on Steve’s waist, holding him still, their damp chests almost flush. When Eddie’s lips reach Steve’s collarbone (mercifully skipping his armpit, a favourite haunt of Eddie’s) the sucking sensation returns, this time stronger. The intent to leave a mark clear in the way the metalhead braces himself, one hand propping himself up on the bed, the other snaking around Steve’s back, pulling him in close. Steve rolls his head back and leans into the heat and pressure of Eddie’s mouth. The first hickey complete, Eddie pauses to assess his work, pleased, he moves onto the next. Steve stops counting after three, his mind fading in and out of focus on anything other than the hot, wet, tugging pressure of Eddie’s mouth. He isn’t sure how long it is until he’s awakened to the increasingly urgent need to avert the pressure sinking rapidly towards his crotch and hastily nudges Eddie away.

“I have to… fuck, g-give me a minute.” He mumbles, very aware that if he were to allow Eddie to continue, he would likely wake at least some of the camp in the process. Cold water and a moment alone are the better, if less satisfying, choice.

Eddie is comfortably reclined on his bed when Steve and his composure returns, clicking off the lights in the cabin and heading straight for his own bed. For a moment the only sound is the creak of the old mattress and the shuffle of Steve getting comfortable.

“Night Stevie.” Eddie croons from across the room, sounding extremely smug.

“Night Eds.” Steve thinks he says in response as he closes his eyes and forces himself to go to sleep.

***

The following morning is as hectic as can be expected. They meet Jay for a farewell breakfast at a local diner, where Steve hides himself in the deepest corner of the booth, the collar of his polo-shirt pulled as high as it will go. The collarbone hickey was just the tip of the iceberg apparently, as Steve had awoken to a veritable bouquet of purple and red marks on his chest and neck. A hushed confrontation ensued, consisting mostly of Steve pointing at his neck and gesturing incredulously, whilst a sleep mussed, and completely unrepentant Eddie grinned at him.

Eddie, by contrast, is the life and soul of the breakfast party. He holds court with Jay on one side and Dustin on the other, waving a fork load of syrup drenched pancake around as he speaks. Steve glowers down at his eggs, adjusting his collar every so often, painfully aware of Eddie’s boot nudging his calf under the table, hooking their legs together at the ankle. It’s nice, sure, the butterflies in his stomach are present, yes, but he’s still too annoyed about the hickeys to just forgive and forget. He punishes Eddie by only playing footsie with him a little and otherwise focusing on his breakfast.

By mid-morning they’ve all eaten their fill, but no one wants to be the person to start saying goodbye and preparing to leave. In the end it’s some of the teens who break the ice, dipping away from the booth to head to the restrooms and Jay clears his throat with a sad little smile.

“Well, it’s been amazing meeting you all, let me know when you’re out this way again. Hell, maybe I’ll make a trip to Hawkins someday?” He jokes, but Steve, Nancy, Eddie and Will all shut down that idea with such force Jay looks taken aback.

“O-kay… not the reaction I was expecting.”

“It’s just… there’s nothing interesting there at all, nothing.” Will hurries, backed up by Nancy and Eddie all making different excuses.

“We’ll for sure visit again though, count on it.” Steve pipes up, giving Jay a genuine smile and feeling surprisingly sad to be saying goodbye after everything.

The farewells then turn to Argyle and, to a lesser extent, Jonathan, who are both remaining on the West Coast until Jonathan heads to college. It’s easy enough for Steve to encourage the teens to focus their farewells on the two stoners, allowing Eddie and Jay to have a quieter chat by the doors of the diner. He’s unsurprised to catch the pair hugging tightly out of the corner of his eye. Soon after, he hears the rev of Jay’s motorbike pulling out of the carpark as Eddie returns to his side, wiping the corner of his eye.

“You good, Eds?”

“Mhmm.” The response comes, punctuated by a sniff, and he feels the weight of Eddie’s shoulder leaning against him ever so slightly, as they all wave Jonathan and Argyle goodbye, watching the Surfer Boy Pizza van kick into life and drive out, Argyle’s stupid novelty horn blaring.

***

It turns out that the addition of Nancy to their return journey makes the Winnebago feel remarkably similar to a clown car. The teens were definitely right in their protests. The whole vehicle feels smaller, claustrophobic. By the end of the first day, they’re all irritable, made even worse by some truly horrendous traffic on seemingly all the main roads leading out of the city. Eddie resorts to chain smoking out of the passenger window, his foot tapping incessantly against the glove compartment, whilst Steve focuses on driving to drown out the constant bickering in the back. Nancy, to her credit, reads her book and tries to keep out of the teen’s ways, which is a difficult task with so little seating and so many people.

There’s no stopping for any of the roadside attractions Dustin and Lucas had been so eager to visit the day before, instead it feels like they all unanimously agree on getting back to Hawkins as fast as possible. The only person not eager to return is Eddie, who grows increasingly sullen and quiet with every passing mile. Steve doesn’t blame him, even with his name officially cleared of all charges, there are still far too many people in town who believe Eddie to be a serial killer and (or) a satanic cult leader. The guy can barely leave his own house without getting chewed out by some irate member of the public, and he wasn’t exactly well liked before the Vecna incident. Still, Steve tries to look on the bright side of things, like not being constantly surrounded by people at all hours of the day and night, and being able to touch, kiss and otherwise love on Eddie as much as he wants in the privacy of his own home (or Eddie’s, he isn’t really fussy).

The first day of travel blurs into the next, and the next, with Eddie, Steve and Nancy taking turns to drive, navigate, sleep and keep the teens from killing each other. The only stops they make are to fill up on gas and use restrooms or get food. It’s easier to just keep driving. Stopping every night to camp means setting up and putting down tents, cooking, cleaning, unpacking and re-packing the already overflowing Winnebago. All in all, highly unappealing when all most of them want to do is get back to their homes. Nancy puts her foot down on the third night, after locating a somewhat serviceable motel along the route she demands they stop for the night so she can sleep on an actual mattress and take a shower. There’s a small current of hesitation at this demand, but it’s so small that Steve eventually sighs wearily and nods from his seat at the wheel. A real shower does sound like a nice idea, and they have more than enough cash left to get a couple of rooms for the night. Besides, the whole Winnebago is starting to smell like sweaty teenagers and spilled soda. Eddie merely waves a hand vaguely in agreement when asked his opinion, his face buried in a rough-looking notebook, pen scratching away frantically.

***

They manage to get three rooms, two on the first floor and one on the ground. The boys all bundle into one without even a hint of discussion, and Nancy leads Max and El towards the one next to theirs. The lamp above the door flickers as she opens it, turning back to give Eddie and Steve a salute that reads as both ‘goodnight’ and ‘you’re welcome.’ The light cuts out when the door slams shut, leaving Steve and Eddie standing in darkness by the stairs.

“C’mon, ours is down the other end.” Eddie mutters, his voice unnecessarily quiet considering their unpopulated surroundings. He nudges Steve with one bony elbow and, hands shoved in his jacket pocket, slopes off towards the only remaining room they paid for. Steve takes a second to snap out of his daze and follow after him, eventually finding themselves in a corner room with beige walls, beige furniture and a beige pair of double beds. Closing and locking the door from the inside, Steve says a silent prayer of thanks to whoever might be listening before pushing Eddie up against the nearest wall and leaning in for a kiss, eager hands already sneaking under the metalheads shirt. Unfortunately, that’s as far as Eddie allows him to get, ringed fingers hooking around his wrists and pulling his hands away with an apologetic frown.

“As much as I love the enthusiasm, Stevie, I smell like garbage, and my hair is so greasy you could use it to fry an egg. Showers first, huh, Loverboy?”

Steve knows Eddie is right, there’s a greasy film on his skin from being stuck in a hot vehicle for days on end, and he doesn’t even want to think about the state of his own hair. But nevertheless, the rejection (which rationally he knows is not actually a rejection and is more of a raincheck) hits hard, and he wilts in Eddie’s grip.

“Awh c’mon, don’t pout like that.” Eddie’s hand releases his wrist to pat him on the shoulder instead. “It won’t take a minute.”

“Y-yeah, yeah of course, I just… wasn’t thinking.” Steve mutters, moving out of the man’s grasp to begin rummaging through his bag for sleep clothes and his toothbrush. The act doubling as a way to hide his furiously flushing cheeks. A hand on his arm stops him, pulling him up to standing once more.

“Stevie, c’mere.” And before he can say a word in response Eddie has wrapped him in a tight hug. “You’re so fucking cute when you’re horny, y’know?” Eddie mutters into his ear, sending a shiver down his spine. “I’m gonna make you feel so good, love, just wait a little bit longer for me, okay?” Something in the lowered tone of Eddie’s voice has Steve nodding without a word, his mouth having gone spectacularly dry. Eddie pulls away with a grin. “Good boy.” He hums, patting Steve on the cheek and sauntering off to the bathroom with a grin.

To say that Steve rushes his own shower might be a bit of an understatement, he gets the important bits clean, sure, but it’s definitely a one shampoo and rinse kind of a situation. He takes a bit more effort brushing his teeth, though, and gets as much water out of his hair as he can with the threadbare towels offered by the motel. He is, therefore, quietly seething when he walks out of the bathroom in his sleepwear, anticipating a night of joyfully reacquainting himself with Eddie’s body, only to find Dustin sprawled across one of the beds, watching cartoons on the crappy motel room TV. Eddie gives him a world-weary look in response to whatever Steve’s own face must be showing, likely bitter disappointment, possibly murderous rage, and he quickly schools his expression into something less irritable.

“What’re you doing here, Henderson? Thought you were sharing with the others upstairs?”

“The beds are tiny, and Will kicks in his sleep.” Dustin replies without looking up from the TV.

“So, you just… thought you’d come steal one of our beds instead?”

“I’m small, I can share with Eddie.”

Unable to come up with an argument against this arrangement that won’t blow their secret or come off as needlessly mean, the two older men reluctantly give in. Tucking into their separate beds in relative silence, Steve spends his time before falling asleep calculating just how much longer he has to wait until he and Eddie can have some privacy again.

***

There’s an air of impatient excitement among the party as the old campervan trundles closer and closer to Hawkins. The only noticeable exception is Eddie, who spends most of his time with his headphones on, staunchly refusing to look up from his battered notebook. The final day is the worst, the teens start counting down the miles, and when they finally catch sight of road signs listing ‘Hawkins’ a jubilant cheer rings out inside the Winnebago. Eddie sinks down in the passenger seat a little more, pulling his hood over his head and folding in on himself as if by making himself smaller he can escape the dread Steve knows is welling in the pit of his stomach. Steve, trapped in the drivers’ seat, can only watch out of the corner of his eye, guilt for his part in Eddie’s misery sitting heavily in his chest.

It's late morning when they finally pull up to Joyce and Hopper's place. El and Max are already out of the door before Steve can fully park, he yelps a warning that falls on deaf ears, securing the handbrake and killing the engine with a sigh. His thighs and ass are numb from hours upon hours of driving and he’s dreading the thought of carrying all their junk out of the camper before returning it. Still, he summons the energy to drag himself out of the driver’s seat. The sooner they get started, the sooner they’ll finish. The sooner they finish, the sooner Steve can get his hands on Eddie in private. Thankfully Hopper and Joyce are more than happy to help empty the rented vehicle of bags and belongings, placing them all in piles on the grass as the teens argue over whose tent belongs to whom. Eddie silently takes Steve’s car keys and stows their bags and his precious guitar in the trunk. He’s so clearly out of sorts that Joyce suggests he gets himself a cold drink and rests in the kitchen while they finish up, an offer which Eddie accepts without so much as a token of resistance.

Joyce and Nancy help give the Winnebago a brief once-over with a broom and some damp cloths while the teens mess about on the grass waiting for their parents to arrive. Steve catches sight of Eddie sitting on the porch with Hopper, a bottle of something held in his lap. He looks drawn and pale, shoulders hunched in that way that makes him look much smaller than he actually is. His heart aches.

When Steve next steps out of the Winnebago to shake out a dust cloth, Hopper has turned to the metalhead and appears in deep conversation with him. Clearly some conclusion is reached as the next moment Hopper is waving him over.

“Thinking of having a barbeque here tonight. If you can stomach another meal with this lot, that is?” Hopper asks, though it doesn’t sound like much of a question. To his side Eddie glances up at Steve with a guilty look in his eyes. Either Eddie put Hopper up to this for some reason, or Hopper has deemed that grilled meats are the only cure for Eddie’s current woes. Either way, Steve doesn’t appear to have a choice in the matter.

“Need me to swing by the store?” He asks with a barely concealed sigh. So much for his relaxing evening.

“I’ll follow you in the truck, pick up what we need on the way back from dropping off the ‘bago.” Hopper gives him a gruff nod and slaps his thighs before standing and tugging his keys out of a back pocket. Steve follows after the man with all the enthusiasm of a dog on its way to the vets.

Thankfully, it’s a short drive to the rental place. Steve’s barely finished taking off his sunglasses in the doorway of the shop before Casey is rushing out to greet him. She’s switched out the baggy dungarees for jean shorts and a green vest, her ponytail swishing so much a few strands stick to her lip gloss. Steve puts on his best ‘King Harrington’ performance and is out of there in less than five minutes. Casey waves him goodbye from the front door, cheeks flushed, hair still stuck to her lip gloss.

He wonders, as he walks over to Hopper's car, if he’ll ever be able to give up the act, if he could ever just tell them he isn’t interested. Even more, if he could ever tell them that he has a boyfriend and be done with it. The thought is terrifying but still, he pockets it, maybe someday when the world is more accepting he can walk the streets hand in hand with Eds, and no one will bat an eyelid. He’s thudded back into reality as he slides into the passenger seat and Hopper makes some passing comment about the girl, Casey, who’s still watching from the front door. Steve summons a hollow laugh in response, his stomach churning uncomfortably.

***

Joyce and Hopper's place is alive with activity by the time they return with an ungodly number of hotdogs, burger patties and buns of every shape. Deck chairs and tables have been pulled onto the grass; two large beach umbrellas protect a table laden with ice boxes and cans of soda. Dustin and Will are setting up fireworks further away from the house, Joyce is tending to the smoking barbeque whilst Max and El skewer chopped vegetables onto long wooden sticks. Steve sets the meat down in the kitchen on Hopper's orders and is quickly roped into prep as well.

By the time the sun begins to set, music is playing, candles and fairy lights are twinkling, and the party has tripled in size, neighbours, friends and all the teens parents having shown up in the intervening hours. Hopper insists they wait to set the fireworks off until it’s fully dark, so most of the party is gathered on chairs or blankets on the grass making conversation. Steve is almost falling asleep, the single beer he’s had all day still half-drunk in his hand, when a familiar voice yells his name from a distance and he jerks out of his stupor to see Robin flying at him, arms wide.

“Robs! Oh my god, how did you get here?” Steve catches his best friend with ease, spinning her in a neat circle and placing her back on the ground. She’s red-faced, eyes shining, breathing heavily. It takes a few moments for her to catch her breath.

“Biked, it was hell.”

Steve laughs, pulling her in for another hug. Acutely aware of Dustin and Mike’s eyes on them both.

“Then you need a burger, stat.”

“Please! I am starving and I have so much to talk about!”

Steve nods, which proves all the encouragement Robin needs to launch into anecdotes from band camp whilst following him over to the barbeque. With Robin at his side, Steve spends the next hour happily swapping tales from the road trip and Rob's band camp back and forth. Robin eats two burgers and a healthy slice of pie as they chat, watching the rest of the party from the swinging bench on the porch. Eddie has been commandeered by the boys, all full of barbequed meats and soda, and appears to be reenacting some dramatic sword fight with them on the grass a small distance away. El and Max are watching the battle ensue, jeering loudly whenever Eddie gets a successful hit. Steve is so focused on their play fight he almost jumps out of his skin when Robin jabs a finger into one of the fading hickeys on the side of his neck.

“-You two finally sorted your shit out then?”

Steve hesitates, he’d been in the middle of telling Robin about El’s new obsession with novelty magnets, but one look at his best friend tells him she’s only interested in hearing one thing. He takes a swig from his, now fully warm, can of beer and sighs, looking out towards Eddie and the kids rolling around on the grass.

“We did, yeah.” He pauses for just a moment too long and finds himself once again being prodded in the side as punishment.

“That’s it? C’mon Steve, spill the goddamn beans already and put me out of my misery.”

The fact that Robin manages to contain her exasperated plea to a volume that won’t be overheard by anyone close by is honestly impressive. Steve leans back on the swinging bench, staring up at the wooden slatted porch above them. His stomach twists in knots that for the first time in a long while don’t feel unpleasant. Taking a deep breath, he sits up, and begins talking. He starts at the very beginning, his stupid crush back in high school that he’s only recently understood was a crush and works all the way back up to present. He skips the copious amounts of sex and glosses over some of the more sentimental bits of his and Eddie’s conversations, but other than that Robin gets the whole story.

It feels good, better that Steve could have imagined, sharing it all with his closest friend, with someone who understands. Someone who will keep his happiest secret without needing to be asked. He’s almost surprised he doesn’t start crying. Robin sits in rapt silence (except for the few bits where she slaps him gently on the arm for being an absolute idiot).

When Steve tells her about the conversation he’d had with Nancy about breaking up with Jonathan, Robin gets a strange look in her eye, a look Steve clocks, but decides to leave alone for now. He’s far too happy, far too content, to start prying into Robin’s business. In fact, he doesn’t get a chance to ask her anyway, as a moment after he’s finished his story, just as Robin opens her mouth to begin peppering him with questions, Dustin and Lucas run up onto the porch yelling his name.

“Steve!” “Steve!”

“Henderson, Sinclair…” Steve replies to both hesitantly.

“Robin?” Robin adds, looking between the two teens and Steve, fighting back a grin.

“You’re joining the Hellfire Club, right?” Dustin asks, breathing heavily.

Before Steve can process this interrogation, Lucas is speaking.

“You have to! We haven’t finished the campaign Eddie wrote for the trip yet, you can’t just quit, we need you.”

“Didn’t you miss the final-” Robin begins to ask, but is shushed by a nearly apoplectic Dustin.

“You promised you’d play it through, Steve.”

It’s a stretch and a large one at that, Steve had agreed to play the game during the trip, there had been no mention of it running over into post-road trip sessions. Still, he’s not about to turn down any opportunity to spend more time with Eds.

“You know if you say no they’ll bug you all night, right, Stevie?” A warm and familiar voice speaks up from his left.

Steve turns his head so fast his neck clicks. Eddie is leaning over the porch railing beside him, all smiles and dirt on his knees and elbows from roughhousing. He catches Steve's eye, holding his gaze for just a second longer than strictly necessary, a ripple runs down Steve’s spine as they both turn away.

“…Fine.” Steve sighs, trying his best to sound put-out by the whole thing, fighting the smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “I’ll join your little nerd game if it doesn’t clash with work or, y’know, my actual social life.” He looks from Lucas to Dustin, the boys share a glance at Eddie, who must nod at them as a moment later they’re whooping and yelling, rushing off to share the news with the other teens now gathered on a large blanket on the grass.

“Can I join?” Robin pipes up, after Dustin and Lucas have left. She’s staring at Eddie, and, as far as Steve can tell, seems utterly sincere in her interest.

“It’d be an honour to have you at the table.” Eddie enthuses, and Steve is awash with the hot, cloying feeling of joy welling up in his chest as he looks at the two most important people in his life. He looks to Robin, wanting to ask her how things went with Vickie at band camp, eager for her to experience a similar joy to his own, but Eddie speaks first in a low, conspiratorial tone.

“Now if you’ll excuse us, Birdie, I need Stevie for a minute.”

Robin huffs a laugh and gestures in a ‘be my guest’ kind of way. Steve is already climbing to his feet and following Eddies’ retreating back. The metalhead leads them both into the trees behind the house, walking far enough in that the tree trunks around them grow slightly closer together, the sounds of the party muffled by branches and leaves. With everyone gathered in the front garden, the back of the house is quiet and secluded. It’s cooler now that the sun has set, but there’s a lingering stickiness to the air, the smell of leaves and dirt underfoot coiling into the space between them.

That space doesn’t remain for very long, as soon as the dark of the woods begins to close in around them like a blanket, Steve grips the back of Eddies’ shirt and tugs him closer. Eddie twists around, allowing himself to be backed against the nearest sturdy-looking tree and pulling Steve against him with a low chuckle. The light of the moon through the canopy overhead and the lingering glow of the party lights is enough to illuminate Eddie’s grinning face, enough for Steve to close his eyes and know with absolute certainty that he will meet Eddie’s waiting lips with his own when he leans forwards. A warm hand comes to rest on his hip, the other cupping the side of his face, holding him in a bruising kiss as if afraid he might pull away at any moment.

Steve melts into the embrace, revelling in the feel of Eddie’s lips dragging against his own. For a moment there is nothing but the friction of their mouths and the beautiful dance of their hot breaths mingling together in the dark. It’s Steve who opens his mouth with a sigh that sounds more like a moan, brushing his tongue against the seam of Eddie’s lips, allowing his wandering fingers to tangle into Eddie’s soft ringlets as the kiss deepens. Steve’s ears ring with his own thundering pulse. There is nothing but the heat of Eddie’s body against his own, Eddie’s fist bunching into the fabric of his shirt, the occasional bump of teeth in an already too-hungry kiss. He almost forgets to breathe, quietly thankful when Eddie pulls away with a quiet pop, lips slick with saliva, pupils dark, granted a moment to gasp down air as Eddie adjusts his position against the tree and runs a shaky hand through his hair.

“Been wanting to do that all damn day…” Eddie breathes, leaning back against the tree behind him but keeping Steve held close. Steve reaches up to tuck a wayward strand of hair behind his ear, fingers lingering on Eddie’s cheek.

“I’m sorry… about all this,” Steve gestures back towards the party, the hum of music still audible from their current distance away. “You deserved a night of peace after the last few days, not another night of babysitting.”

“And miss the chance to snog you in the woods? Never.” Eddie hums. He runs a hand down Steve’s arm, curling his fingers around Steve’s wrist before lifting Steve's hand to his face and beginning to place hot kisses against his palm and pulse point. Steve’s breathing hitches in his throat.

“We could have snogged in the woods near my house, Eds,” Steve laughs shakily. “It’s not just the babysitting. It’s being back in Hawkins… I know you’re not happy here.”

The kisses pause as Eddie tilts his head to catch Steve’s eye, his gaze questioning, he lowers Steve’s hand, placing it against his own waist.

“The majority of the town hates me, not much I can do about that.”

“I wasn’t saying- I just…” Steve flounders, the hint of accusation in Eddie’s tone sending him into a panic. He holds up a hand as a peace offering, sensing tension in the air that he had never intended to create. After a moment he moves the hand, placing it on Eddie’s chest instead, squeezing slightly, the warmth of Eddie’s body mingling with his own. “Its not fair for you to have to stay here, Eds, I wouldn’t blame you if you chose to leave, I just… don’t stay here and suffer for me, please…” Steve’s voice quavered on the final words, tearing the sentence out of him like sucking poison from a wound. It was all well and good conjuring fantasies about being together forever, but reality is different. The fact is Eddie won’t stay in Hawkins forever, Robin will go to college, the teens will graduate High School and move to college too eventually, and Steve can’t bear the thought of starting something with a pre-determined end date, or acting like everything is fine when it demonstrably isn’t.

Eddie doesn’t speak for a while, the silence lingering around them like a shroud. Steve takes it as a good sign that he hasn’t been pushed away, that Eddie is still solid and real under his palm, breathing slow and steady. He waits, maintaining eye contact even as Eddie’s eyes seem to flit between matching his gaze and looking away. Eventually, with a sudden flurry of movement that Steve hadn’t anticipated, he finds himself swung in a semi-circle, back pressed against the rough bark of a tree trunk, Eddie’s hands on his shoulders, moving upwards to cup his cheeks. After a deep intake of breath, Eddie finally starts to speak.

“Listen to me, Steve… We went to Mordor together. You carried me out of there. You’ve seen me covered in blood. You helped change my nasty as fuck bandages, helped bathe me - which was pretty fucking humiliating, by the way - you fed me jello and didn’t complain when I spat it out because it was lime flavoured, and you know I hate that shit. And for some insane reason you still have the hots for me, like you can’t get enough of me, me! It’s unbelievable, Stevie. It’s truly mental. You know how insanely rare that is? To meet someone who knows first-hand all the absolute worst, shittiest things about you, and instead of running for the hills, they just… love you? Scars, bad habits, irritating personality, all of it? You think I’m gonna let some shitty small-town gossip get in the way of that?”

Steve blinks, his face now held in both of Eddie’s hands rendering him unable to even look away to gain a reprieve from the intensity of the metalheads gaze. He shakes his head as best as he can.

“But I know how much you hate this town, Eds. I don’t want you to stay here and suffer just for me.”

“What I do and where I go is up to me. And right now, I want to be right here, with you.”

Steve stares at him, face hot where Eddie’s hands are still gently holding them, thumb smoothing Steve’s reddened cheek.

“…And Wayne, my band, Robin, and the brats as well.” Eddie adds, in a voice that very much sounds like they are all something of an afterthought.

“The brats who still think we’re both vying for Robin's love, you mean?” Steve questions, raising an eyebrow in what he hopes Eddie recognises as a bid to end this rather serious topic of conversation.

Eddie releases his face with a smile. One hand doesn’t travel particularly far, sliding down to rest on the crook of Steve’s neck, rubbing gentle circles over one of his slowly fading hickeys. The other reaches down and clasps Steve's hand in the dark, fingers intertwining.

“How long do you think it’ll take them to figure out who I’m actually dating?” Eddie asks in a conspiratorial tone, eyes glittering in the low light. In such close proximity Steve can see every eyelash lining those doe-like eyes and every faint freckle dusting the man’s face. He runs a finger lightly over a particularly dense patch on Eddie’s cheek, the metal head smiles, eyes drifting closed as he leans into the touch.

“Without Max’s help? I’d give them a year, at least.”

Steve takes the opportunity to capture Eddie’s mouth in a kiss as the man begins to laugh, wrapping both arms around Eddie’s body in a clumsy attempt to crawl into the man’s skin and live there.

“Mmh… I am exhausted.” Steve breathes after several long minutes of re-memorising the feeling of Eddie’s tongue on his own. He straightens up, leaning his full weight against the tree behind him, head falling backwards with a thud.

Eddie agrees without words, licking his lips with half-closed eyes.

“Want me to drop you home so you can get your beauty sleep?” Steve asks, fighting back a yawn.

Eddie’s eyes open slowly as he frowns at him, eyebrows furrowed, appearing to chew over his response before opening his mouth. “You’re joking, right? I’ve got you all to myself for the first time in weeks, Stevie…” Eddie’s voice is a half whine as he leans back into Steve’s space, one hand grasping Steve’s thigh, pulling it up against his own waist.

“…When’s Wayne get home, again?” Steve manages to ask despite the sudden lack of oxygen in the vicinity. The smell of Eddie’s shampoo curls in his nose, chased by the barest hint of cigarette smoke. He tries to catch Eddie’s eye, but a second ringed hand is already creeping under the hem of his shirt, leaving a trail of zinging contact in its wake. Steve might be bone-tired, but there’s a burn kindling in the pit of his stomach that he will never be tired enough to refuse.

“Working nights all week.” Eddie purrs, lips so close to Steve’s ear they brush against it as he speaks.

“I haven’t…y’know… there hasn’t been time for… prep or anything, Eds.” Steve hesitates, heart racing, the urge to sink into the warm touch almost impossible to deny. Eddie puffs hot air against his cheek in response.

“I know Sugar, but there’s more than one way to fuck.” This statement is coupled with the tight grip of Eddie’s hand on his thigh and punctuated by Steve’s own breath catching in his throat. “Have I told you how much I love these little shorts of yours, Stevie?” Eddie’s voice is rough, his lips dusting against Steve’s jaw with every word. Steve attempts to look down at his shorts, the same jean shorts he’d worn when they visited the corn maze, and realisation finally slapped him in the face.

“No… but I’ll keep that in mind in future.”

“Mhm, very dangerous behaviour, wearing these around me.” Eddie’s thumb slides under the frayed fabric as he speaks, brushing the heated inner skin of his thigh.

Steve grins to himself, leaning into Eddie’s touch, every nerve ending in his body singing with joy, a single refrain in his mind: finally.

“Oh no, well, if they’re that dangerous you should probably get me out of them, don’t you think?” Steve feigns innocence as Eddie’s fingers continue to roam, and he feels his boyfriend laugh against his neck.

“You’re absolutely right, Stevie Baby.” Eddie chuckles, swiftly followed by hot lips against Steve’s neck. “Let’s get out of here.”

Steve is forever grateful that the first round of fireworks drown out his enthusiastic agreement.

/end

Chapter Text

Epilogue – March 1990. Indianapolis.

Opening the front door and stepping inside, Steve tosses his keys onto the little table by the door and sighs heavily. A loud silence, filled only with the tick of the clock in the kitchen and the sound of Steve’s own breathing, meets his ears. Eddie isn’t due back from the recording studio until much later that evening. The apartment is as blissfully empty as it had been when he left for work that morning.

Thanks to a recent visit from Joyce and Hopper the fruit bowl in the kitchen has been filled with crisp looking apples, a few small oranges and a single lemon, all artfully stacked into a neat little pyramid by Steve himself on a particularly dull Sunday afternoon. Steve grabs an apple from the very bottom and watches the pyramid tumble into chaos without the loadbearing fruit. Crunching down on it he makes his way over to the sink, filling a semi-clean mug with cold water. There’s leftover pastabake in the ancient fridge wrapped and ready to cook but Steve can’t find the energy to put the oven on. He stares around at the cramped kitchen surfaces and temperamental appliances and despite his joy to be home and on the cusp of a very pleasant weekend, the house just doesn’t feel the same without its other resident.

To stop himself from going stir crazy clock-watching, he heads out for a run, waters the few potted plants in the apartment that haven’t already died from negligence and reheats the pasta bake before putting the TV on just to have some background noise. He makes it to 11pm before he starts catastrophising and considers calling Robin. She only lives a few blocks away after all, and a bit of company for his pity party would be lovely. She’d at least manage to talk him off the roof. But Robin works weekends to pay for college, and he can’t keep calling her any time he’s bored or lonely. Eventually he drags himself to the bathroom to take a shower.

Since moving to Indianapolis and then swiftly uprooting once again to a smaller apartment in Chicago for Eddie’s job, Steve has flip-flopped between jobs like someone trying to learn every skill possible in the shortest time imaginable. He worked at a DIY store, a record shop, yet another video rental, he even did a brief stint as a waiter where the tips were great, but he was constantly getting hit on by customers and other staff to the point he was faking sick to avoid working.

After Eddie and the band had returned from their cross-country tour he’d taken a break from work for a few months to really think about what he wanted to do and had come to the dreadful realisation that he might actually be really good at childcare. With Eddie’s support he took the leap into higher education. After a six-month course in Early Childhood Education and Care plus several intense background checks he landed a job at a sunny little daycare in the area. Now his days are mostly spent removing inedible objects from babies mouths and cleaning up spills, and he hates to admit it, but he loves every second of it even if the pay isn’t all that great. And then Eddie and the band began recording their first full-length studio album. Recording days, Steve discovered quickly, are ridiculously long, so long that Eddie often sleeps at the studio, only coming back to their apartment to shower and change his clothes, if at all. Steve isn’t sure how many more days he can handle being alone in their little two-bed apartment, going to work in silence and returning to the same. It’s almost worse than when the band is touring, at least with a tour Eddie isn’t tantalizingly close to home yet still kept out of reach.

Despite Eds telling him he’d be late and not to wait up, it still feels wrong getting ready for bed without him around. But, without anything else to do, and not wanting to sit around feeling sorry for himself for moment longer, Steve eventually succumbs to his tiredness. Sinking into the cushions on Eddie’s side of the bed and dozing off almost immediately.

***

“Turn the light off asshole…” Steve mumbles indignantly as the brightly back-lit figure that is Eddie removes his shoes and pulls his jacket off, illuminated by the hallway light now searing into Steve’s retinas. Eddie chuckles, saying nothing. Steve hears the clink of a belt buckle being undone and watches Eddie slip his jeans down and off, tossing them to the side with much less care than he paid to his jacket.

“Why didn’t you just shake me or something?” Steve huffs, rolling to the other side of the bed as Eddie hikes his t-shirt up over his head, still standing in a beam of light, face obscured. The t-shirt goes the same way as the jeans and Steve watches his partner shake out his hair before moving to switch off the light.

The mattress sinks slightly as Eddie settles on the mattress beside him, a gust of chill air hitting Steve’s chest as the covers are lifted. The chill is almost instantly replaced by the press of Eddie’s body against his and he melts at the touch.

“Where’s the fun in that?” Eddie asks, his breath tickling Steve’s face as he feels a familiar guitar rough hand run up his thigh, gripping his waist gently, keeping their bodies pressed together. “You were asleep anyway. I called your name like twenty times, Love.”

“I tried to stay up, but you took too long.” Steve replies, it comes out far whinier than he intends and Eddie chuckles.

“I know, I’m sorry. I’m here now though.”

Steve huffs a little, moving so his face is buried in Eddie’s neck. He’s far too tired to talk, and despite the warm feeling growing somewhere near his bellybutton he’s far too tired to do anything else, either. Which is why he wriggles and whines when Eddie hooks his arm all the way around his waist and pulls Steve fully on top of him, tangling their legs together with a satisfied grunt.

“What’re you doing?” Steve complains, but it comes out muffled as his face is still pressed into the crook of Eddie’s neck.

“Just getting comfortable.” Eddie replies, patting him on the head with his free hand.

Steve lifts his head, propping himself up to really look into Eddie's face, blinking furiously against the itchy tiredness of his eyes. There’s a familiar strained redness to the metalheads eyes, a tension in his jaw and shoulders that Steve has seen all too much recently.

“Rough day?” Steve asks eventually, when his sleep-addled brain has finally put the pieces together. All irritation at being manhandled disappears in the blink of an eye.

Eddie sighs, nodding and looking away with a slight frown. Steve pats his cheek, laying back down and adjusting slightly so his pelvis isn’t crushed against the other man’s considerably bonier one.

“It’s gonna be amazing, Eds, they’re gonna to love it, they’re gonna love you. I do.” Steve mumbles, half-asleep once more. He feels Eddie’s hand on his neck, holding him close, and the long pause as Eddie takes a few deep breaths.

“I really hope so, Stevie.”

Steve falls asleep again soon after, lulled by the gentle rhythm of Eddie’s heartbeat. Warm in their shared bed, their shared apartment, their shared life, worries of record sales and paying rent never feel that serious. Eddie’s album will be a success, Steve will get promoted, they’ll still fall asleep tangled together each night, the nightmares kept at bay. Every year their scars will fade a little more until one day, long into the future, they’ll barely be noticeable. And if their relationship can stand the test of that much time too, then maybe all the nightmares they went through will be worth it in a fucked up kinda way.