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Chapter Text

Eddie's jewellery ends up in a bag in his hospital room, familiar rings jumbled in together with his necklace, keys and wallet. They hadn't bothered to clean anything after he was brought in, they'd probably just dropped it all in there after cutting him out of the clothes he was wearing. Both the metal of the rings and the links of the necklace are stained red-brown-black, and Steve honestly doesn't know how much of it's dried blood and how much is toxic, festering shit from the upside-down.

For all the times he'd been through this, he'd never got the hang of the come-down, when everything tilts back to normal but he still feels beat to hell, when the faceless people in suits come in and clean it all away, give them their government approved stories to tell. Sorry for the inconvenience folks, and also for the inter-dimensional horrors we helped unleash.

But since Steve figures that the world had stopped being on fire for five minutes, and there was no longer anything for him to put himself in front of and smack until he felt better, then he could at least have a go at cleaning Eddie's stuff up for him. He doesn't know him very well, but after everything they went through together Steve hates the idea of him waking up to all the pieces of his life tossed carelessly aside and left to rot. A gross reminder that no one in town had cared about him, that no one had believed him, or thought he was important enough to try and save.

Max is still at the hospital too and Steve's pretty sure he's going to be here every day anyway, shuttling the kids in and out. He figures he can take the bag home, scrub everything clean and then bring it back tomorrow.

Eddie deserves someone looking after the small details of his life, at the very least. Though Steve does wonder whether that's just an excuse, if he's just desperately trying to find a task that will make him feel useful, something he can relax into and not feel like he's going out of his mind in the moments when he's doing nothing.

He leaves the bag in the upstairs bathroom while he makes himself a sandwich, which he practically inhales without tasting, suggesting that he'd been far hungrier than he'd realised. He can almost hear Robin in his head griping at him for not taking care of himself when he has the chance. But, honestly, having the time to complain about access to sandwiches, signing the government's stupid forms, and hearing Dustin's less than subtle remarks that he needs a shower, are starting to make him feel like it's really over. Because if they're worrying about that shit then maybe they can stop worrying about teens with broken bones and mind-control wizards and things with too many teeth that want to eat them all.

For all that the whole town is currently cracked in half there's a reassuring lack of doorways to festering hellscapes opening, so Steve is giving everyone a free pass on giving him shit. He's not gonna tell them because they'll only take advantage, it's an unacknowledged free pass, until such time as they realise, or another flaming, upside-down asshole opens on main street.

He heads upstairs, fills the sink, opens the cabinet and claims his mom's nail brush then sets to work. The wallet he does his best with, but the leather's thin and soft in places and he doesn't want it to stay wet for long, there's also blood in the stitching and it might be a lost cause. He cleans off Eddie's keys and hangs them on the towel rack before scrubbing blood off the three larger rings, which are of dubious metal content and are bent and marked enough to have clearly seen better days. But he'd still rather see them back on Eddie's hand than disgusting and abandoned in a bag.

They do come clean eventually, shining against the sink, detail picked out in a way that makes them look battered but almost new. He's more careful with the black stone one, since it's not one solid piece, it's the one Eddie wears singly on his right hand, the curves of metal resisting his attempts to clean it more than the others. But it feels more important somehow, different enough to be noticeable. He's carefully brushing around the setting when the doorbell goes.

Steve startles, ends up with water splashed and spotted down his shirt in a way that has a curse spitting between his teeth. He reminds himself harshly that monsters probably aren't going to use the doorbell, though the jury's still out on 'visiting him at home' since they all dealt with possession-by-mindflayer last year. He finds himself turning with the ring still held in his hand, bites out an annoyed grumble and slips it on his own finger before heading down.

He's had more visitors since everything happened, and he tries not to feel so suspicious at the sudden influx of people, both official and not, who just want to check up on him. He's been the one doing it for so long that he can't help but feel antsy - and a little bitter if he's being honest - about this sudden need to make sure everything is ok with him. But he realises at this point that there are too many people in the group they've made for any one house or car to hold them all, and he has to admit it is nice to be in the middle of a group he doesn't have to tell the government-approved lies to. As for everyone else in Hawkins, hell, at the end of the day, it's good to know that even if most of the people in this town don't actually get it they know enough to check their neighbours are safe.

Steve eventually heads back upstairs, turns the black stone ring on his finger once he hits the bathroom to slide it off again - only to discover that it doesn't want to come off.

He looks down, thumb and fingers gripping the circle of it, pressing down on the inlay and pulling, but it won't budge. The damn thing is wedged tight on his finger.

"Seriously?"

It won't even shift to the knuckle, refusing to slide upwards at all, and he can already tell he's not getting it back over it. How the hell did it even go on in the first place? He hadn't been paying attention and he'd just slipped the damn thing down onto his hand like it was nothing. But clearly it wasn't nothing and now Eddie's ring is stuck on his finger.

"Shit."

Steve only has to think about it for a second, he may not wear rings but he's seen plenty of movies. He tries the soap first, smearing it over the metal until pieces catch in the gaps, before lathering it up and tugging, which gets him no movement except the spin around his finger. He upends the shampoo bottle next, rubbing until his entire finger is coated before trying to get a grip on the ring. He pulls until his knuckle hurts, until the skin at the bottom of his finger goes red. No dice. It doesn't aid in the slide at all. The thing is now gross and slippery but still stuck on his finger. If anything he feels as if he'd made it worse. The skin under the ring is sensitive, the finger itself now looking a bit puffy, and it's getting difficult to turn at all. Yeah, he's definitely just making it worse.

Steve washes it all off, then leaves his hand in the running water for a few minutes to see if cooling it down will shrink it any and help with the removal. It doesn't though, and now his fingers are cold and they smell of shampoo. He holds his hand up, staring at where he has a ring which is not his own stuck on his finger, resisting all attempts to remove it.

He leaves it alone for a minute, figuring it's a problem he's not going to solve until he lets his hand chill out and relax for a while. Panicking probably wasn't helping here, it's only leaving him all sweaty and stressed out. It'll probably come off later when he's not thinking about it so hard. Instead, he bags up the rest of Eddie's jewellery, keys and wallet, and takes them back downstairs. With any luck he can add the ring to it before he leaves with Dustin tomorrow.

He doesn't expect to sleep much so he doesn't try, instead he stays on the couch, tries to find something worth watching but the reception here is kind of shit right now. The ring sits on his finger, not uncomfortably tight but definitely snug, an unfamiliar weight that he's not sure what to do with. He should have known better than to put it on, it was his own fault for getting distracted. It's different enough from his normal style to keep catching his eye, jewellery where no jewellery should be, though the shape of it is surprisingly easy to forget after a while. It's still weird seeing it there, pressed up against his knuckle every time he turns his head. Something so very Eddie Munson looking completely out of place on him.

Steve falls asleep to the sound of whistles and clattering and yelling, can't tell for sure what sport is playing, or if it's even a sport at all.

He doesn't remember what he dreams about, which is a small mercy, but he wakes too fast, convinced he's somewhere else. There's a solid ache in his neck, from where it'd been draped over the back of the couch, and it doesn't fade even as he moves and makes himself get up and get on with the day.

The ring is still on his finger.

It doesn't come off.

-

Steve doesn't head straight for Dustin's. Instead he goes to Robin's house first, lures her outside using only his eyebrows. Something he's very happy that he can do because he really doesn't want to have this conversation this early in the morning where her parents might overhear.

She stomps out to the car in hastily done up shoes and no socks, hair crumpled on one side.

"Steve, why am I up at six in the morning? Is everyone ok, is it back - is there -?" He can feel the way she braces herself for god knows what and realises that showing up so early isn't really fair only a few days after everything happened. He decides to cut off the panic he'd accidentally caused by lifting his hand and showing her the problem.

Robin blinks, her eyes tracking to his hand and then focusing.

"Why are you wearing Eddie's ring?" The fact that he hadn't even had to say anything is a bad sign. He'd known the damn thing was too recognizable. "Is there something you want to tell me? Because either he woke up and you changed your mind about some important things really fast, or -"

"It's stuck," Steve hisses and he feels like there is exactly the right amount of understandable panic in the words. "I can't get it off."

"Why do you even have it? More importantly, why the hell did you put it on in the first place?" Robin reaches out and grips it, pulls at the metal, waggles his hand back and forth in a way that he really wants to complain is not helpful.

"I took his stuff home to clean it up for him, I didn't mean to - the doorbell went and I didn't want to lose it so I just stuffed it on my finger for safekeeping, but then it wouldn't come off again."

"Why did you think putting it on would be a good idea?"

"I literally just told you, safekeeping."

"Well it's definitely safe," she mutters. Which in any other situation he would probably find funny. "So now you have Eddie's ring stuck on your hand. How could you not have known that would end badly? A ring belonging to our skinny, musician friend who does not have giant, sports-playing hands -"

"I do not have giant sports-playing hands." Steve would also like to point out that Eddie is only really their friend through proximity to horrible danger. That wasn't his fault, obviously, but he got pulled into their shit basically a week ago and they barely know him at all. Even if they had all saved the world together.

"They're still bigger than Eddie's."

"It went on there fine," Steve protests, because he doesn't think now is the time for a hand size argument. "If it had been a tight fit I would have thought to myself 'hey, that's clearly going to get stuck, I better shove it in my pocket instead.'"

Robin is still turning his hand, like she thinks there might be another secret ring accidentally crammed somewhere else. He tries not to feel judged.

"Did you try soap?" she suggests. "Olive oil, KY, butter?"

"Yes, first thing I thought of, thank you, I tried soap and then shampoo to get it loose, didn't budge it."

"What about icing your hand?"

"I held it under cold water for five minutes. I also sat on it to try and send my hand numb. I've tried rotating it. I've tried levering it. It won't come off."

She pouts down at the ring, and he's glad she finally seems to be getting how frustrating this is.

"You did give it a good go, didn't you? Hell, you might have to get this thing cut off."

"No." Steve pulls his hand back, because that's the last possible option here. "Eddie is currently unconscious in hospital with eighty-five stitches and I'm pretty sure like two skin grafts, after putting literally everything on the line for us. His home is trashed and he's lucky to even be alive right now. I'm not going to be responsible for ruining one of the only things we know he has any attachment to. This thing could be important to him. It could have belonged to someone important and maybe it's the only thing he has left of them or some shit." He honestly hadn't realised how much the thought had been worrying him until all that had come out.

"He could also have found it in the woods under a log." Robin is a big fan of finding random things and declaring them her own. But Steve has to admit she's making a fair point, he fully believes Eddie would find jewellery in the woods and make it part of his look. The fact is that they don't know for sure.

"It doesn't matter," Steve decides. "The fact is it's Eddie's and he's lost enough shit already, most of his things are gone, they cut off literally everything he was wearing. I'll get it off, I just need some time."

"And maybe some better lubrication?" Robin suggests again. "We gotta make your fingers wet like a slip-n-slide -" she pulls a face as soon as the words are out, which he mirrors right back at her, "- yes, ok, we're going to pretend I didn't say that. That thought went too far."

"Trust me, I'm working on it. But I have to go. I have to pick up Dustin in twenty minutes. Please, just wish me luck for the rest of the day."

She salutes, then seems to realise that isn't wishing him luck and makes an attempt at what looks like a boy scout salute. He doesn't have the heart to correct her.

"He's probably going to accuse me of stealing it," he says miserably. "I can hear it in his voice already 'he's in a coma, Steve, who does that? I expected better from you.'"

Robin snorts, fingers back on his hand, clearly with a new plan, this time corkscrewing it up, which is really just an old plan of Steve's, so he knows it's not going to work.

"Your little baby bear would never," she says, like she's certain.

"I'm just sick of feeling like I'm the bad guy," Steve continues. "Why do I always end up the bad guy when I'm trying to do something nice?" That may have come out a little more intense than he expected, but in his defense it's been a long week.

"What are you going to say if anyone asks about it?" Robin shakes the ring for emphasis.

"No one's going to ask about it," Steve says, though he realises that's more awkwardly defensive than what he actually believes. He's friends with some of the nosiest little assholes around, who can't leave anything alone for five minutes without turning it into a mystery to be solved. So he's going to need an excuse. "Ok, people are probably going to ask about it. But I'm not going to tell them I was the idiot who got it stuck. I'll just tell them I didn't want it to get lost. Maybe I'll say I found it on the floor or something."

"Yeah, that's going to work for a day or two maximum, so you might want to stock up on some more oil and get to work freeing yourself. Maybe you could put your whole hand in the freezer? If we still worked at Scoops I could just pop you in there for a bit. Or maybe peas, those peas that draw the moisture out of stuff. Though dehydrating you seems a little extreme." She still looks like she's seriously contemplating it.

"It'll be fine," Steve assures her. "It'll come off eventually."

She waves him off from the driveway, and he heads in the other direction.

But the thing is, for all Steve's prepared excuses, Dustin doesn't say anything. No, that's a lie, he says a million things, he's literally an avalanche of thoughts he needs to share at all times that Steve only grasps half of and has to hope he's not agreeing to anything he shouldn't. Dustin definitely notices the ring. Steve watches him cut off halfway through a sentence and look at his hands on the wheel. Then he watches the shape of his mouth scrunch in for a second, as if he has something he wants to say, or a lot of things he wants to say. But Steve watches him visibly restrain himself, for maybe the first time he's ever known him, before giving him a look he can't decipher and flicking the radio on.

"I'm looking after it," Steve says, belatedly, because maybe he can head off any questions before they happen. "I know it's important to him, I found it -" he doesn't say 'in the bag with the others' because he'd learned that the best lie is one that's secretly the truth. "And I didn't want it to get lost."

"Yeah, of course," Dustin agrees, the words punching out of him too fast. "Obviously, obviously you're taking care of it for him. That's very - very cool of you, Steve." There's an awkward amount of emphasis on the words that he can't help but find suspicious. "Very cool of you and totally fine," he adds with a weird sort of stress on 'fine', and if anything the look gets worse.

Steve suspects he's being made fun of in some way.

"Alright, shut up, sharing moment is over."

He starts the car.

That went better than he expected.

It's been a few days so the visits are almost routine at this point. Steve hovers in the doorway for a bit while they check on Max, lost for a way to actually make himself useful here. He knows enough about himself to realise that's kind of stupid, there's nothing he can do after all. He can bring the kids here but there's no way he can fix this, just be around while they all wait for improvement for either of their party.

Eddie looks the same, a shade thinner than he should be under too many bandages, and Steve can hear Robin in his head saying 'our skinny musician friend' with what he realises now was an odd sort of fondness. His dark hair is spread out across the pillow, pulled away from his face and leaving his neck oddly bare. His bangs have been drawn to one side, in a way Steve's never seen him wear them, which is strangely unsettling. Part of him kind of wants to pat them down, make him look like he should. For some reason that bothers him more than all the machinery.

He sets the bag of Eddie's stuff that he'd cleaned with the clothes he'd picked up earlier, in a colour palette that wouldn't give Munson hives. So everything in here is clean now at least, ready for when he wakes up. Except the ring that's currently jammed on Steve's hand. Which he stares at guiltily.

"He's going to wake up," Dustin says. "You know that right, the doctors said everything looks good and he's not in any danger anymore."

"Yes, Dustin." Steve shoves his hands in his pockets. "I was in the room when they told us."

"I know you were there but, y'know, just in case you needed to hear it. I'm trying to be comforting."

Steve isn't sure why he's the one that needs comforting. Maybe this is a pointed comment on how he'd been lax in his reassurance. Which, he has to admit, is probably fair. He'd been run off his feet the last few days but letting the kids know that everything is going to be fine is important, especially after what they went through - and are still going through.

"Yeah, I know," he says, quieter now, trying to keep as much bite out of his tone as he can. "I know he's going to be fine. You know that too, right?"

Dustin's face does an ugly crumpling thing for a second and Steve hates it, hates it so much he feels it like a punch.

"Yes, I mean, obviously. I just didn't realise, I didn't know, and it must have been really shitty for you to have to -" Dustin stops and looks at the bed. "To find him like that and carry him back through the gate and everything."

"Yeah, not my best day," Steve agrees. "But we were all there, we all did what we had to do, and we knew the stakes."

Dustin nods and the lack of words is enough for Steve to take three steps and press both hands down on his shoulders, squeezing gently, before taking something that feels more like a headbutt to the chest than a hug. He still hugs back. He ends up staying in the room with him past lunchtime, listening to Dustin talk about Eddie with a pointed sort of pride and Steve thinks maybe he can finally stop being so fucking jealous of the people that make his kids happy.

-

Steve has to leave eventually, people still need groceries and the amount of property damage means it's kind of a crapshoot getting them until clear-up starts happening properly. Which is one thing he can at least be useful for.

Nancy meets him outside, since she's on the second shift for the kids today. They're letting them visit the hospital as much as they want, and it seems to be helping. Steve doesn't currently have a job right now, since last he heard Family Video is kind of perilously close to a big fucking crevasse or something, so he's at a loose end and it's either this or sit around in his big empty house with Robin and think too much.

"How is everyone?" Nancy asks.

"The same," Steve tells her. "Mostly the same, though the doctors seem to think Eddie might wake up soon."

She nods, clearly relieved and Steve doesn't know exactly when Eddie became one of theirs but it's becoming obvious that he is.

"Max?"

"Nothing yet, but she's stable and there's brain activity, which is good. El seems confident that she's just taking her time, healing up the worst of it." He fishes in his pocket for his keys, pulls them out, slips the ring over his finger out of habit. Nancy looks surprised for a moment, blinking while her mouth works open and shut, and then she seems to shake herself and something more like sympathy rolls over her face.

"Oh, Steve, you should have said something." She reaches out, carefully touches his wrist.

"Said - what?" He looks down at where she'd turned the hand holding his keys into the light, which is now striking the dark stone of the ring that's still wedged on his finger. The words 'I got it stuck there by accident' are so close to slipping free.

"You must have been so worried." It's not a question, and it's offered so softly, as if she thinks saying it louder might bruise him in some way.

"I mean, yeah, we all were." He knows he wasn't in a position to keep Eddie safe, but it feels like it had still been his responsibility.

"You could have told me, you know," Nancy says quietly. "You didn't have to panic and say - but I understand that it must have been a lot for you to deal with, especially in the middle of everything -" She looks stricken for a second as if she thinks she's messing up an apology of some sort. "I understand and I support you, always, you know that. I'm here for you, both of you I mean." She tips her head towards his hand and he thinks maybe he's missing something.

"I'm looking after it for him," Steve hears himself say. Because Nancy clearly thinks that him and Eddie bonded in the upside-down or something, and now he's torn up about his new friend being in a coma. Confessing that they barely know each other at all feels like the wrong move, because he knows enough about Eddie now to realise that he's a good dude, with a huge soft spot for the kids. Which is basically Steve's fucking kryptonite at this point. So he knows that when Eddie wakes up they're going to be friends, whether he likes it or not. Though he minds that idea much less than he'd thought he would a week ago. And, yeah, they might be an odd fit but look at the rest of them. He thinks that Nancy likes Eddie too, in her own way. She's slow to warm up to people but he knows how much she values her friends and he'd seen Eddie making her laugh when he thinks she might have needed it most.

"Of course," Nancy says with a nod. "And that's what I'll tell anyone who asks." There's something briefly fierce in her voice and he's not used to having that sharp, weirdly protective tone directed at him. He feels the ragged, jittery tension inside him, that had been there so long it almost felt permanent, finally slowly settle. He doesn't know how he managed to find so many friends who make him feel like he could literally take on inter-dimensional monsters and win, not once but four times. He's not sure he deserves them.

"Thanks, Nance." His voice sounds faraway, and she must feel it too, because she dips in and hugs him, the sudden squeeze not tentative but firm, her small fingers bunched tight in his shirt.

-

Visiting hours are a shitty construct.

Steve knows that the staff at the hospital have to do their job and they can't have a bunch of people milling around their patients all the time, but watching the kids be politely urged out is still horrible. The idea that there can be huge stretches of time when none of them are there. Where they can't be around the people that need them, the people that they love.

Steve knows that he'd appreciate the fact that people were around, waiting for him to wake up. He wouldn't want to be alone there.

But they all get sent home eventually.

"How are we doing?" Robin's looking at him, one hand full of chips the other holding the TV remote.

Steve lifts his hand out of the bowl of olive oil, watching it run off his fingers for a minute. They'd put a towel down but the stuff is already half over his jeans in smears and patches and also dotted on one of Robin's shoes. It's going to be a bitch to get out of the carpet, but this is kind of an emergency and Steve's not sure his parents are even coming back at this point, so he guesses it's now his carpet anyway. His carpet, his problem.

"I feel like my hand is melting," he complains. But he reaches up and gives the ring a twist. It slides around his finger more easily but still won't pull upwards. It's clear at this point that it's not tight enough that he needs to worry about blood circulation, it just doesn't want to come off. "Nope, still jammed on my hand." He wipes his fingers off on the towel and somehow there's another spot of oil on his jeans.

Robin looks genuinely annoyed for him, and it's nice that some of his frustration has finally transferred.

"Damn, I really thought that would work."

"Ten more minutes?" Steve suggests hopefully.

"Well if it doesn't work, at least your skin will be silky smooth," she reassures him. "You'll have silky baby hands that everyone will be jealous of."

That couldn't sound less appealing, if he's being honest.

"Shut up and watch your stupid murder show."

"Excuse me, I will not have you badmouthing Jessica Fletcher."

Steve picks the bowl up and puts it on his lap, swivelling the ring where it's slightly smeared out by the oil.

"If I end up having to cut it off, will you help me find him a new one?"

"You know I will," she says immediately. "I will have to because the one you picked would probably be ugly and he would never wear it."

Steve frowns at the certainty in her voice, which feels a little unfair. He'd always thought he was pretty good at buying gifts, he may get a lot of comments on his own apparently awful taste but he knows how to pay attention to what other people like. That's the whole point of presents, you buy people things that they like, not things that you like.

"I'd just find a picture of one of those stupid bands he's into and then find him a ring that looked the same as one that those guys were wearing."

Robin baps her fist on his knee, a smile taking over the lower half of her face.

"Ok, I take it back, you would definitely buy him a ring he liked. I never should have doubted you."

"But it won't matter because we're going to get this one off," he says firmly.

-

The ring doesn't come off.

Chapter Text

It's true what they say, you do get used to the sound of the machines in the hospital after a while, but that doesn't mean Steve has to like it. It's not just the machines in Eddie's room, humming and beeping and clicking their way into his brain, the noises are everywhere. The beeps of machines in other rooms, the trundling rattle of trolleys and beds and IV stands being wheeled through the corridors. Underneath all that, the sound of doors opening and shutting, feet moving on hard floors as doctors hurry from room to room.

The hospital is a place people go because they have to, no one wants to be here, it's not supposed to be comfortable.

Which explains the chair Steve's forced to sit in every time, the seat an ugly scooped-out plastic which he'd swear blind is designed not to fit anyone's ass, and a back that discourages slouching like some sort of old-timey school master. The bed is probably more comfortable, for all that Eddie doesn't have a choice right now. Though that's not saying much, since it's all hard metal, stiff wheels and blankets so thin he can't imagine there's any warmth to them at all.

There's a reason Steve had wriggled his way out of a trip here as many times as he had, even when he couldn't feel half his face and every breath made him feel like someone was using a nutcracker on his ribs.

But no one else is here to talk to Eddie right now, so he feels like he should make the effort.

"Lucas is probably going to be in here to catch up later, but he's in with Max right now. She's here too, but I guess they've told you that already. She's in bad shape but El's taking care of her, we're kind of hoping that means she can reach her and bring her back eventually. I usually sit with her for a bit too, but Lucas wanted to talk to her by himself today, so you get my company for a while, I know how much you hate being in a room without an audience after all."

Steve doesn't get any reply, he doesn't expect one though. This might be the first time he's actually been alone in a room with Eddie but he already knows him well enough to know how wrong the stillness and the quiet feels. Eddie had been in near-constant motion from the moment they'd found him in the boat house, taking up space so well it felt like self-defense, all big gestures and big expressions, loud even when he wasn't talking.

After that, they'd barely had a moment to think while everything was going on, Eddie dragged along for the ride whether he wanted to be or not. Which Steve knows from experience can leave you kind of afraid to stop, afraid that if you take the time to breathe and look around then the absolute insanity of what you were doing would sink in. But there had still been moments where Eddie could have left, could have saved himself, could have stayed behind, and he'd chosen not to. Eddie had been with them through it all, by choice, leaning into their personal space, and laughing, but also following them, and fighting for them. And the panicked noises he'd made in reaction to any of them doing anything he considered stupidly reckless had been kind of funny coming from Munson of all people. Even if Steve feels a little bad about the thought now.

He'd felt like one of them long before the end.

The fact that he's now lying in a hospital bed, solid with bandages, all his motion brought to a stop, it feels unnatural, like someone had turned out all the lights in a room that people were still using. Steve hates that thought the moment it comes to him, it feels too much like being dragged under, being stolen away, and they've all felt enough of that.

The doctor's are confident that Eddie will wake up, he'd just been through a lot, even after he'd been brought here. Steve knows how badly he'd been injured, how deep and how serious the wounds in him had been. He'd felt the way blood flowed out across his fingers when he'd tried to press down on them, to help Nancy wrap him tight so Steve could haul him up into his arms and out. The doctors had been the ones in charge of putting him back together again. He may have brought him out of the upside-down but they're the ones who fixed him. Steve's grateful for that, for all that he hates it here, not just for him but for Dustin and Mike and Lucas and Erica.

"Everyone's really glad you're still here, dude. I feel like that was still very much up in the air when we brought you in."

Dustin and the others have been talking to Eddie from the beginning, playing him music, catching him up on what's been going on since the end, reading to him from a stack of books on the table by his bed. Something about people in a coma being able to hear the things around them, even if they don't react or take in anything that's being said, familiar voices are supposed to be comforting. Steve isn't sure whether that applies to his voice, he's familiar enough but maybe not in a good way? Maybe just in a 'ah, that's Steve Harrington, I know that guy, what an asshole,' kind of way. Though he hopes not. He hopes they kind of had a moment at the end there.

They're doing the same thing for Max, who looks smaller than Steve's ever seen her, pale and bruised and still in her own room, limbs all built up in shades of white. But El tells them she'll wake up when she's ready, says she went a long way down and it's hard to swim back up, especially with her body so tired and so broken. Steve trusts her. He chooses to trust her. He sits in Max's room sometimes, but he thinks the kids like to tell her secrets of their own, so he mostly lets them have the hours they spend at the hospital with her. He doesn't like how fragile she looks, but he hopes that she knows her friends are there, that El lets her know they're all here, if she can.

Which leaves him keeping Munson company. Though he's feeling like it's going to be more of a confession than a conversation today.

"In my defence, I feel like it's a mistake anyone could have made," Steve explains and he has to admit that it's kind of nice to get it out. "I was cleaning it ok, I was trying to do a nice thing for you and I got distracted. Which, ok, I realise that means I've basically stolen it at this point. But if I can't get it off there's not a lot I can do about that. I'll just have to owe you a new one, and if it turns out to be, like, super important to you then I'll lose ten pounds or something until it falls off on its own. I mean you've earned it, right?"

It's the least Steve can do.

There's still no reply though, no sigh, no pout, no eye roll, no gentle mockery at Steve doing something predictably stupid. There are just the machines and the various lines of fluids and monitor leads. Steve can see the pale veins in Eddie's neck, and the way someone keeps combing his hair against the pillow, which makes him look like he'd fallen from above, tumbled out of a hole in the ceiling, and Steve doesn't like the reminder. Honestly, the fact that someone had put Eddie in a white gown while he wasn't awake to fight tooth and nail against it feels weirdly unsettling too. It makes him look ghostly. There are still so many bandages, though the gauze travelling over his jaw and down is pale enough to see the stitches through.

Not everything is hidden, the red-green bruising splashed around Eddie's throat and up his forearms is stark enough that Steve's eyes keep drifting to it, hating the fact that looking at it sometimes means he can feel it too, that he remembers what it was like to be dragged.

Eddie's here because he fought for them, and so now Steve gets to fight for him too, that's just the way it goes.

There's more of the kid's stuff in here than Eddie's, even though it's only been a few days, saying so obviously that he has people that care about him. Something Steve has repeatedly had the value of smacked into him, usually face-first. The book left on the cabinet is thick, but too messy to be Dustin's, the pages fluffed out like someone had dropped it in a bath and had to dry it out. There's a bookmark in there that's been slowly making its way through. Steve's heard chunks of the story when he's been in here but he'd only ever cracked it open once, just to get a look inside.

"I know the kids have been reading to you." Mostly Dustin but he's caught Lucas, Mike and Erica with the book in their lap too, each of them a little more or less invested in doing character voices or adding their own thoughts. "I had a look inside, but that book's kind of intimidating, man. Not sure you'd want me to try and follow it anyway. Because you know I wouldn't do the voices or anything and I'd probably mess up half the words." Reading aloud in class had been bad enough, but he feels like reading aloud in a hospital room, hoping Eddie could hear him, was somehow worse. "I'm not like you, I'm sure you could just make a story up on the fly, if it was anyone else lying here. But that would involve you being awake. Pretty disappointing of you to not be doing that, to be honest."

There isn't a lot of gossip going on right now, everyone's mostly killing time between visits to the hospital and efforts to re-home and rebuild. But Steve does his best to give an update on what's going on with everyone, including people he's pretty sure Eddie doesn't know and probably doesn't care about. He even goes on a fairly long tangent about Keith, who is still determined that they're going to reopen at some point, forcing him and Robin back to work by default. But eventually Steve runs out of things to say.

He sighs and looks down at his hand, thumbs the ring in a slow circle.

"I didn't mean to make this difficult, I mean you've only known me properly for basically five minutes, but any of the kids can tell you that I'm constantly telling them not to do stupid shit, and what do I go and do?" He holds his hand up, and it seems kind of stupid that he's laying all this out while Eddie is currently in a coma and can't technically have an opinion on anything. "Maybe I'm just holding off the judgment until you're up to giving it. I'll deserve it, and I promise to take it on the chin, I'm pretty good at that after all. You just have to wake up."

Steve shakes his head and pushes himself out of the chair.

"Anyway, dude, I should go check on Lucas, see if he's ready to head out yet."

He straightens up his jacket, hovers over the bed for a second, eyeing where Eddie's right hand is laid on the scratchy, waffle blankets. It's as pale as the rest of him, all his knuckles strangely bare for the first time Steve can remember. He sets his own hand down next to it, out of curiosity, and he discovers that Robin was right, his own hands are bigger than Eddie's, the knuckles more solid, the palm slightly wider. He can't resist carefully laying his hand on top to check, and finds that Eddie's fingers are a touch longer. He's a musician though, and he probably needs the extra flexibility, so Steve's gonna let that one go. Still, the size difference may be there but it isn't huge, there's no reason for the ring to have gotten so stuck.

"Guess sometimes things fit people just right, huh?"

A shuffling noise in the doorway has Steve turning, body already moving instinctively to block the bed, and all his own barely healed wounds protest the speed of it.

It seems unfair to say he doesn't expect the figure behind him. Wayne Munson has as much right to be here as any of them do, arguably more. But he works nights, so he gets off shift when everyone else is waking up and sleeps through the mornings. Which, Steve realises, is the reason they haven't really crossed paths here until now, though he'd seen the man in passing. He realises his hand is still curled around Eddie's and he lets it go, tries to make the gesture look casual and probably fails.

"Mr Munson, I was just checking on Eddie."

"You must be Steve Harrington," Wayne says. Steve can't help wincing at what isn't a question, though there isn't as much judgment as he would have expected in the words. It's more a sort of satisfaction at finally getting to acknowledge him up close. Still, he can't imagine all of the things the man had heard about him over the years have been good, especially not with Eddie as the source. He knows the kind of shit-heel he was in high school, and he's well aware that Eddie had been a target of his a time or two, verbally at least.

"Yes, sir. It's nice to finally meet you." He stretches a hand out, because Eddie's technically a friend now and if there's one thing Steve knows how to do it's be polite and respectful towards his friend's parents, or guardians, and sometimes siblings. Though the last is always his least favourite, and to be honest has a success rate that's about fifty-fifty at this point.

He realises belatedly that he'd offered his left hand, the same one the ring is stuck on, and he watches Wayne Munson zero straight into what must be a pretty damn familiar piece of jewellery. If anyone is going to know if it means anything then Eddie's uncle will. He panics for a second, but can't take his hand back without it looking weird.

Wayne just shakes though, one firm down-swing. He doesn't try and crush the life out of him, and the handshake ends with a strange, slow sort of consideration.

"You're the one that's been delivering groceries too." Wayne's focus on him is strangely intent.

"Yeah, yes, it's a rota, I have a friend who lives out by you, I mean where your new place is, so I said I'd take care of it."

"You don't have to do that, son."

"We're doing it for everyone that was -" The words stick in his throat for a second, because he's not sure how much Wayne knows and the cover story for the whole thing that they all had to memorize refuses to come to him, something something, serial killer, hallucinogens, kidnapping. It sounded crazy but even he had to admit it had been far more believable than the truth. "Well, a bunch of my friends were hurt and they would have been hurt worse if it wasn't for Eddie. I'm doing what I can so I don't feel useless here, you know."

"It's ok to take a moment to breathe, you know, town's been through a lot."

Steve's not expecting the words to be so soft, sliding right through his defences, For a moment he's worried he's going to laugh at the absurdity of it, at having to hold his tongue about exactly what the town has been through, keeps going through, may hold the scars from for years. He gives a tight smile instead, because he knows he'd have to explain anything else and he's so tired.

"It really has." Sometimes he wishes they could stop going through a lot, because he's really starting to feel it, like that rock that gets crushed until it's just thin layers all stacked up on top of each other.

Wayne looks like he's debating whether to speak for a moment and Steve waits, he's really not sure exactly what the government agents told Eddie's uncle about what happened to him, so he doesn't want to say something that puts it all in doubt.

"I know there's stuff you're not allowed to say," Wayne says eventually, as if he can somehow see the hesitation and where it comes from. "But if you need anything, you know where to find me."

Steve isn't expecting it, he can't remember the last time that support was just offered up to him, from someone he doesn't even really know.

"I - thank you, Mr Munson."

"Wayne." It's not a suggestion.

"Thank you, Wayne, and I'm sorry about how so much of this is just stuff we can't talk about..." Steve shrugs. "It seems pretty stupid to worry about keeping secrets when so many people need help. I feel like it would be easier if we were just allowed to tell the truth." He sighs at that, because he knows he's making it sound easy, when it's anything but. "If people just let us tell the truth."

Wayne looks at him so hard for a second that Steve worries he'd said something wrong. But eventually there's a quiet sort of surprise, something that had previously been tight in the older man's face relaxing, almost against his will.

"I imagine you do," he says finally.

"I should go." Steve collects his bag, watching Wayne pick up the book that Dustin had left on the table. "Ah, if you want to read it we're taking it in turns reading to him. It's always from the right page wherever the bookmark is. I think he's at page 310 right now." He doesn't mention how it's almost entirely the kids. Reading has never been something Steve was good at, or had much enthusiasm for.

But Wayne nods, pressing down on the pages, which go soft and spread open under his fingers.

"Right you are."

-

Sunday finds him sprawled out on his own couch, after Robin insisted that if he didn't stop trying to solve every problem brought to him and take five minutes for himself then she would make him. Which had sounded funny at the time, but Steve knows that if you leave Robin with a problem for long enough she would solve it, with a crowbar if necessary.

He believed her, he believed her harder when she'd bumped her forehead between his shoulder blades and insisted he was going to be grateful to have his batteries recharged when Eddie and Max woke up and things get even more hectic. When the kids start demanding to be at the hospital to play their stupid game and he has to do damage control to stop them all getting banned for life. She'd had a point, even if he kind of wishes she was here getting her own batteries recharged with him. He's not the only one that's been sounding a little ragged around the edges. But she had parents that wanted to see her every once in a while. Which must be nice, Steve couldn't relate, not bitter about it or anything.

Still, he does get to watch movies he likes without her looking like she wants to be supportive but she's about ten minutes from gnawing her own face off in boredom.

He doesn't manage more than half an hour before there's a sound like someone had literally fallen against his front door, so he hits pause and shoves his way off the couch, taking the bowl on his lap that he'd literally just this minute realised is no longer full of chips. He doesn't even have to open the door to know who it is because they're all talking over each other, bikes left scattered across his lawn.

Steve sighs as he takes hold of the handle, wondering if he could still pretend to not be at home. But he knows himself better than that. He opens it and watches them all stop talking at once.

"What are you all doing here, I thought you had plans this afternoon?" He'd kind of been looking forward to it, a slice of time to himself where no one needed to be ferried anywhere.

Mike's the one that finds his voice first.

"Is it true?" he demands.

Steve's left staring at him, still holding an empty bowl like an idiot, with no clue what's going on. The rest of them turn on Wheeler and make irritated noises, as if he'd broken ranks without permission.

"Is what true?" Steve asks.

Dustin elbows Mike before he can answer that, hard enough that Mike actually sways back with a grunt, and then throws him a look of betrayal.

"What? I just wanted to know?"

"You can't just jump in with demands. We said we were going to be supportive," Dustin says, the reminder coming out unexpectedly sharp. "We said we were going to ease into it."

"Yeah, dude, we agreed." Lucas looks disappointed but not surprised. "That was not easing into it."

"Can I help it if I want to hear it from Steve?" Mike's protest is loud, and kind of whiny, but that's not exactly new. That's a fair description of all Steve's interactions with Mike lately. His ability to whine has increased in proportion to his height, somehow.

"Mike, did you listen to a word that I said? You can't just ask people that shit -" Dustin lifts a hand and makes a gesture which is both exaggerated and unhelpful, before turning back to the doorway. "Steve, I didn't say anything I swear, Lucas overheard you talking to Nancy and then Mike overhead us talking and I didn't know if you wanted anyone else to know -"

"Ok, I literally have no idea what's going on," Steve admits.

"Oh my god, it's true," Mike says, voice slowly fading out as he looks at where Steve's hand is still holding the empty bowl, or more precisely, where his fingers are folded over the edge and Eddie's ring is on display at the rim. "I can't believe he gave it to you, seriously you."

"Mike!"

"For the last time, I don't have a problem with the -" Mike waves his hands in a way that tells Steve nothing, "the thing, I'm just annoyed that it's Steve."

"After literally everything he's done, Mike, really?" Dustin's angry gesturing nearly takes out Steve's bowl until he lifts it out of range.

Lucas is nodding agreement.

"Yeah, are you really going to say you'd rather it be some random dude?"

"I don't - ok, no, but you know what he's like," Mike spits, which Steve chooses to be offended by even though he still doesn't know what anyone is talking about. "And this is clearly serious for one of them, you want to pick up the pieces after that! Because it's going to be an absolute shitshow."

Steve opens his mouth to call him out for his language but they're not even looking at him anymore.

"Come on, that's not fair." It's the first thing Will's said. Steve doesn't know exactly if he's back in Hawkins for good but it definitely seems like it. Property prices are literally a steal right now, which is probably the single silver lining of the last few months. Hawkins is cheap real estate if anyone's crazy enough to move here.

"Guys, does anyone want to explain what the hell is going on?" No one cares that Steve is in the dark, as goddamn usual.

Dustin physically pushes Mike back from the step and puts a hand on Steve's chest.

"Yes, thank you, I will. We've come to support you." At Steve's look Dustin waves a hand. "I know, I know, we deserve that, we can be a bunch of demanding little assholes -"

"True, but language," Steve says, out of habit.

"Only focused on our own problems. But we appreciate all the shit you do for us - don't look at me like that, I need colourful language to make my point here."

Steve decides that he'll allow it.

"We appreciate it, and we realise that you have your own stuff going on, which we maybe don't notice or treat with the respect it deserves."

Mike is visibly - possibly even audibly - eye rolling at this point. But Lucas and Will are nodding with murmured agreement.

"You have supported us all in the past, even when we, admittedly, made a few stupid decisions. Not naming names or anything, though I think it's pretty obvious. But we discussed this earlier and you deserve to know that we came to a unanimous decision that we probably need to maybe acknowledge out loud that you have been through a lot of shit for us, that you chose to do so even when you could have walked away. We know that you are always there for us, even when it comes with literally no rewards, usually grievous injuries in fact. So today we decided that we were going to show you that we can do that, not the grievous injuries, obviously, but the being there for you. So we've come to your house and we're going to actually be good friends, when you need us. The same way you've done for us...a bunch of times."

Steve finds that he's clutching the bowl really hard and makes himself stop. He had not expected...any of that, and he's in no way prepared for it. He should probably protest, make a joke about how they're getting pretty mushy here, but he can't bring himself to.

"A whole bunch of times," Lucas agrees. "And we brought entertainment." He holds up a bag that Steve can tell contains VHS tapes by the way the plastic is clinging to them. "It's a group selection so we guarantee you won't hate everything."

"We also brought snacks, so many snacks." Dustin rustles both the bags he's carrying.

"It's technically my day off," Steve says, but not very loudly, it's not even really an excuse, it's what Robin would call 'performative' with a little head-shake. Steve can't remember the last time everyone showed up just to spend time with him. So maybe whatever argument they're having about what he did or didn't do can wait until tomorrow. "But I suppose you losers better come inside."

As if there was ever any doubt.

Steve's expecting the day to slowly slide towards chaos, and it's kind of weird when that doesn't happen. They let him pick the movie, they don't fight for space and no one tries to steal the remote from him. Even though Mike sometimes looks like he's having fun under duress it's way more chill than he's expecting. The fact that they put this together for him and then followed through. It means a lot to him.

The conversation is mostly about the movie, but Max and Eddie are still on everyone's mind, he guesses. It turns out the kids have been keeping a schedule so they get to spend time with them both, and Steve wonders with a twinge of concern if they still feel like they're protecting them from something. El thinks Max is mostly healing on her own now, she'd stopped looking so thinned-out whenever Steve passes her at the hospital. Which suggests she'd been helping Max along more than anyone had thought at the beginning. He really wishes she had someone she could take her weird psychic problems to. Someone who wasn't a psychopath, obviously.

But one movie is exchanged for another, bowls are re-filled, chips are not scattered all over his carpet for a change and coasters are put down. It's a little surreal, if Steve's being honest. It's also weird how strangely invested they all seem in knowing whether Eddie's going to be staying with him when he gets out of hospital. But he supposes it makes sense, Steve's technically an adult and he has the room, and there'd be someone around most of the time in case he needed anything. It's probably a good idea.

"Yeah, that'll probably work for everyone, assuming he wants to."

"Of course he'll want to," Dustin says, without hesitation. "And that way it'll be easier for us to come around, when he's feeling up to it, of course, and maybe start a new campaign, something light obviously. We don't want to overwork Eddie until he's better."

How did Steve not know that was coming?

"I don't want you guys around bothering him while he's healing." He can feel the tone of his voice shifting from irritated to genuine no-bullshit warning. Because Eddie deserves a hell of a lot better than that. "Eighty-five stitches, two skin grafts, five days unconscious and counting. You think he's going to be up to planning out a whole bunch of stuff for you. He risked his life for all of us, he deserves better than to feel like you're all just waiting around until he can be entertainment. No, absolutely not, not until he's ready."

"I mean obviously we're not going to do that," Dustin says hurriedly. "You know how important he is to me. We just want him back with us, Steve. We just want him to feel like himself again, doing stuff he enjoys." He looks somewhere between apologetic and impressed at Steve's outburst.

There's a chorus of agreement from the rest. Mike shoves chips in his mouth and looks disgruntled but nods.

"Obviously we're going to be cool. As long as you promise not to hang around and be gross." Mike angrily sets his drink down at the looks he gets from his friends. "Again, it's not about the thing, just the fact that it's Steve doing it," he complains.

"Why would I want to hang around and watch you make up shit and throw things," Steve says. Which gets him several disappointed looks.

"Are we going to talk about that?" Mike gestures aggressively at him, as if Steve is proving some point. "This disrespect to something he loves."

"You don't have to share every single one of your interests with someone," Lucas argues.

"You're a work in progress, Steve," Dustin says, though it's clear he's also judging him for something.

"Are we watching a movie here or what?" Steve complains, because they've been on pause for a while and he's not enjoying the way they keep bringing this back around to him and making it a Steve problem.

They finish the movie.

He tells them he'll pick them up after they've all eaten dinner and take them back to the hospital. They make the least enthusiastic attempt in the universe to help him clear up, but he decides he'll give them credit because it's a hell of a lot more than he usually gets.

Will seems reluctant to head out with the others, who are already arguing about something as they wheel their bikes across his lawn. Steve decides he's better off not knowing.

"You ok?" he asks.

Will nods, watching his friends for a minute and then looking back into Steve's living room, where the cushions are still strewn about, as if they all mean to come back. Steve lets the moment drag on a little, he feels like whatever Will needs to say before he leaves it's important to him.

"Yeah, I just wanted to say that I hope he wakes up soon, and I think it's really cool that you're together. I hope I can - ah - have something like that, some day."

Steve looks down at the ring still stuck on his hand. The way Will looks scared, but also somehow relieved and determined and then genuinely happy for him. A lot of things that Steve had spent three days being confused about suddenly all fall together at once into a pretty clear picture.

Oh no.

Chapter Text

Steve feels like he'd spent far too much of the last year taking a crisis of his own making to Robin. On the one hand, she's his friend and she's amazing and the fact that she'd been willing to show up for the end of the world twice now means a lot to him. But, on the other hand, it's a frustrating and constant reminder that things keep going wrong for him, as if he doesn't even get to go half a year without some humiliating relationship drama, or another disappointing reminder that he's not going anywhere, or a terrifying gate to another dimension throwing out monsters and basically upending his whole life.

He may have been a Grade A asshole four years ago, but he can't pretend his life wasn't a hell of a lot easier then. When all he had to worry about was playing sports, keeping hold of the team captain position and throwing the occasional wild party that was all people talked about for a month. Steve definitely didn't have to worry about getting roped into any terrifying world-ending horror shows, or interdimensional monsters, or everyone he knew suddenly thinking he'd exchanged rings and probably a bunch of other stuff with Eddie Munson.

Is this what adult life is going to bring him now? Just an unending parade of mortal danger and poor decision making?

"I mean, evidence so far seems to point to yes," Robin offers, seemingly reading his mind, not for the first time either, or maybe he'd said that out loud, who knows at this point. She's sprawled in the armchair across from the sofa he's currently trying to phase into, cushions piled up behind her, an empty plate balanced on her knee. He can't actually remember what they had for lunch, they'd just tipped one of his tupperware containers out and eaten it while debating the state of...everything.

"You're supposed to be supporting me in my time of need, Robin. What the hell am I going to do? Everyone thinks we're in some sort of secret - or I guess not so secret at this point - relationship. I have no idea how this happened?!"

Her foot stretches on the carpet until she can poke him with the edge of her shoe.

"Really? Because it seems like a pretty clear chain of events to me." Robin demonstrates her argument mostly by gesturing at his hand and then his face. "You're wearing his ring and you've been excusing and deflecting and 'hmm-ing' your way around any explanation for it. I've heard some of your excuses, Steve, and they're so flimsy you could drive a very slow moving vehicle through them. I honestly don't understand why you didn't just tell the truth."

"Oh you mean like how I got it stuck on my hand like an idiot?"

"Which is a perfectly normal explanation."

"It makes me look like an idiot." That comes out much louder than he means it to, and he knows Robin sees too much in his face because her expression does something soft and sympathetic and he hates how much she gets him when he's trying to have a moment - only not really because he doesn't think that anyone else had ever really got him before, including all the weird little parts of him that no one had ever cared about, or they'd made fun of until he'd planed them down, hidden them away. But Steve had been called stupid enough that it's started to sting on reflex and he thinks he can be forgiven for refusing to admit to it this one time, apparently up to the point of self-sabotage and beyond. "But, seriously, if the fact that everyone was getting this wrong in the same way was so clear, then why didn't I notice it happening? I would have said something. I would have said it wasn't that at the very least. How was 'of course Steve is dating Eddie Munson,' the most logical explanation everyone came to from this?!"

Robin lets her head fall in his direction, causing a small avalanche of cushions, which she ignores.

"You did kind of carry Eddie unconscious and bleeding out of an alternate dimension, while horribly wounded and smelling like the world's most hardcore barbecue. That sort of thing sticks with an audience." She somehow makes that sound like a perfectly reasonable explanation.

"He made the sacrifice play, Robin, I wasn't going to leave him behind."

"I'm just saying, it was very dramatic and heroic and the look you gave that nurse when they tried to take him from you was definitely weirdly possessive and, yeah, we both know that was because trusting people who aren't in on the whole alternate dimension psychic wizard nightmare is distressingly difficult. But to your average innocent bystander, I think you forget that we may give off...a vibe."

"Oh I'm well aware of the vibe, thank you, I have seen the looks you get when you're carrying twenty pounds of raw meat." The fact that Steve still has any reputation is honestly shocking to him some days.

But, honestly, he remembers a lot of things from that day at the hospital but he doesn't remember a nurse. He remembers when they took Eddie from him - he remembers not wanting them to, because he was Steve's responsibility - but someone had taken him. In the moment after, his arms had suddenly felt strangely light, as if they might float into space, and then they'd hurt quite a bit and someone had shuffled him into a room and made disappointed noises at his gross bandages. It had been...it had been a lot.

"I don't remember looking at anyone," Steve admits.

"Oh there was a look," Robin assures him. "Trust me, the look was witnessed, and maybe it wasn't entirely out of the in field - or some sort of field, I can't remember the saying," she waves a hand, "eh, sports metaphor, to assume things about it."

"Left field," Steve offers, because he can't leave that one hanging.

She snaps her fingers at him.

"Exactly! But my point is - my point is, I'm not sure that denying it would have helped if you couldn't actually take the ring off."

Which is how this whole thing started, isn't it? Because Steve has tried, he's tried to take it off.

"Yeah, maybe, but if anyone had actually asked me, or at the very least said it out loud, I would have - well I would have made up literally any other excuse than that."

"Maybe they did ask you, Steve, you don't always pay attention when your little gremlins are talking about their own problems, you just let it all wash over you and expect to get confused, assuming they'll give you the important cliff notes later. Which I can't always blame you for because I don't even want to think about revisiting the things that fourteen-year-old me thought were end-of-the-world important. Especially not now I've actually seen what at least two versions of the end of the world look like. Fourteen year-old me had shitty priorities and that's fine, y'know? But what I mean is that they might have said something, they probably did say something and you just...missed it. Or you ignored it because it wasn't about them, and what they needed, it was about you."

The look that comes after that is unnecessary, because he knows exactly what she means and he hates it and isn't going to comment on it. But it's true that he does kind of work on autopilot sometimes when the kids talk to him. He loves the little dickheads but some of their arguments go around and around forever. Even when he does understand most of what they're talking about it's all stuff he's not interested in, or stuff he doesn't have to give a shit about because he's not fourteen. If he has to give one more lecture about Code Red only being used when someone is actively in danger.

"Not just the kids though, Robin. One of the first people to get completely the wrong idea was Nancy, Nancy!" Steve thinks that's the most damning part of all. He would have thought that if anyone knew how Steve looked and acted when he was dating someone it would be her. "Who, I don't have to remind you, was actually physically there for, like, seventy-five percent of the time I spent with Eddie. When exactly did she think we were supposed to have hooked up?" Steve finds that now he's forced to picture them having a moment in the middle of everything and sort of wants to ask Robin to never let him phrase it that way again. "Oh and also I'm pretty sure Wayne Munson also thinks we're involved too, that's really great, so happy about that. The whole conversation I had with him is making a lot more sense now, which I'm not a fan of, I have to say." He drops his head over the back of the couch. "It's like I have to be dating someone, like I'm not even allowed to make friends without ulterior motives. Which is why Dustin won't leave us the fuck alone."

"He is weirdly invested in your romantic life," Robin agrees. "Though I can't fault him for being supportive."

"He's so supportive, I hate it," Steve says miserably. "They all are, and now I feel like I'm lying to everyone." He hadn't done anything wrong, he just hadn't been paying attention when he should have been and now his life is a mess.

"Oh no," Robin says into the quiet he'd left hanging. "It's too big now, isn't it?"

He knows exactly what she means, too many people have got it wrong without Steve correcting them now. Too many people have been quiet and kind and supportive of something that's not even true. Too many people have shared vulnerable parts of themselves to make him feel better because they thought he was way more invested than he is. They'd felt bad for him because the boy he was apparently in love with is still unconscious in a hospital bed.

He's a terrible person.

"If I try to fix it now..." he realizes.

"It's going to look like you got cold feet about the relationship and basically dumped him while he was recovering from the horrible wounds he sustained during an act of incredible bravery to save the world."

Steve sinks down lower in the couch, in what feels like an attempt to disappear out of existence. Because she has the uncanny ability to phrase things in a way that makes them sound even worse than inside his own head.

"Robin, you know I would never do something that shitty to someone I was dating." And Steve knows if anyone else did that to one of his friends he'd go on an absolute tear and the inevitable beating would probably be worth it. No, it would definitely be worth it. "Assuming we were dating for real," he adds belatedly. "Hell even if we weren't dating for real, who would do that?"

"I know you wouldn't. You're a good person and that would make you look like a total asshole. Who dumps someone when they're in a coma, like seriously?"

"Eddie deserves so much better than that," Steve says miserably.

"He really does," Robin agrees.

Steve thinks, for a fleeting and confusing moment, that Eddie probably deserves better than him. Because look at the mess he'd made when he should have been concentrating on supporting all their friends through everything they'd been through. The relationship isn't even real and he'd already managed to fuck it up. Especially considering he effectively put them in the relationship while Eddie was in a coma which has to rank somewhere on the shitty behavior scale.

Another thought does occur to him though. Something kind of important.

"Shit, Robin I'm also now really hoping the rumors about Eddie are true, because otherwise I've accidentally convinced, I don't know, a whole bunch of our friends that Eddie has a boyfriend that he absolutely doesn't want."

"From what I've heard, the rumors are...fairly robust," Robin says carefully. "And I'm not exactly neck deep in the school rumor mill."

"Yeah," he agrees. "Like I know we literally just discussed not being an asshole and assuming things about people, but it's something people just kind of always say about him." Not just out loud, but he's fairly certain Robin had never read what he'd seen repeatedly scrawled on the wall in the school bathrooms. "Which, ok, really shitty if it's not true. But this is going to be less of a mess if he is into guys."

More worryingly, now he thinks about it, Steve doesn't know if Eddie was dating anyone when everything went down. That's not the sort of thing you could share around after all, not in Hawkins. But he really doesn't want to fuck up a real relationship over this. Though, if a boyfriend had existed, they hadn't stuck around through the murder accusations and quakes. Which leaves him even more depressed, and weirdly angry.

"Do you think he'll be pissed that I've accidentally convinced everyone we're dating?" Steve asks quietly.

Robin takes the time to actually think about it.

"I haven't known him very long but I'm pretty sure it's fifty-fifty at this point between angry at how obvious you were about it, and finding the whole thing genuinely hysterical and never letting you live it down." The space between her eyes scrunches. "Though it's been a difficult week so I don't want to put money on it either way."

"I mean, I'd gladly take either at this point if he wakes up," Steve admits. "I kind of miss his stupid face."

"Me too," Robin says. "He really grows on you, doesn't he?"

Steve finds himself nodding before he's even thought about it.

-

In the end Robin agrees that the best course of action for him at this point might be a slow-building damage control.

She points out that Steve had never actually verbally confirmed one way or the other if they're dating and so he's going to wing it on 'everyone else getting the wrong impression about them' as best as he can. He's just worried about his friend and he's wearing his jewelry to make himself feel better, and it's everyone else's problem that they're...reading things into it. It's not as if they hadn't all gone through a truly astonishing amount of trauma. They shouldn't need excuses to make a few weird out-of-character choices that might, from the outside, look like the former king of Hawkins High dating the local freak. Which he kind of hates saying, even inside his own head, because, wow, yeah, they really were a bunch of assholes.

All Steve has to do is act confused, offer up a few awkward but pointed sentences asking what people are talking about. He's pretty sure he can pull that off because the kids already think he's an idiot and take absolute delight in telling him so, and then ragging on his bad decisions. Even though, at this point, he kind of hates that he didn't just admit to getting the damn thing stuck immediately, because then he could have at least got the 'looking like an idiot' over with at the beginning. It would have solved the whole problem before it started.

The one silver lining is that, as much of a mess as it is, it's kind of a relief to have something to think about that isn't two of their friends recovering from the hell they all went through because an evil wizard in another dimension decided throw a fucking tantrum.

But if everyone pulls through it ok, and he's eventually forced to explain the whole thing, then Steve is more than happy to be made fun of for the rest of his damn life. He won't do it gracefully, but he'll do it.

The only problem is....

The kids seem to have upped their game. They're in danger of making it obvious at this point.

He spends an hour in a hard plastic chair, absently listening to Dustin and Mike complain about the new characters they're making, and about whether it's cheating to invite El to play even though she can maybe read minds - and then everyone is suddenly looking at him and he knows he should have been paying attention because he'd clearly missed something.

"What?"

"I said we're going to get some snacks, if you want to, you know, talk to Eddie on your own." Dustin somehow manages to make that sound like both an earnest suggestion to tell Eddie he's here for him and a frustrated reminder to please pay for their snacks. He's not sure how the kid even does that.

"Why would I want to talk to him on my own?" he asks instead.

"Steve, don't be dense."

He's trying really hard to be dense but they're not making it easy. He eventually sighs and digs in his pocket, hands over enough money that they can probably empty out at least half of whatever the vending machine has to offer. Money in hand, they haul their bags off the floor and leave, slowly pulling the door shut behind them. And, Jesus Christ, it's typical that the one time they actually manage to be respectful and have manners it's so Steve can spend time with his fake boyfriend.

He sinks into the chair by Eddie's bed anyway, fixing some of the leads that they'd managed to push about with their books. He still kind of hates the quiet in here, the way Eddie doesn't move, not even a twitch, all that restless energy packed away somewhere. And Steve's still convinced that whoever's doing his hair has a personal grudge against him or something. It's been bugging him for days and he finally gives in to the urge to reach up and drag his bangs back over his forehead. Which he knows is probably weird and someone's going to notice but he doesn't care at this point. They already took his clothes and his jewelry he should get to look a little like himself at least.

Steve leans back in the chair and sighs.

"Dude, this is getting out of hand, and yes, I know it's my fault but I am not responsible for how willing our friends are to believe the most unlikely explanation for this -" He holds up his hand, the twisted metal of the ring glinting under too-bright hospital lights. "Which is still stuck by the way, and I feel like I can actually hear you laughing every time I show this to you, because the one thing I know you get a kick out of is stupid jocks doing stupid shit and the world immediately punishing them in hilarious ways for it. So, congrats on missing that I guess, your loss, Munson."

Steve can't help cutting his eyes to the door. Because he's had enough of people showing up unexpectedly and getting the wrong impression.

"I don't like seeing you in this bed though, it's been a week. I know you went through it out there. I had to hold you together while you were bleeding out in the dirt, had to carry you back here - which, y'know, I would do again if I had to; but I'd appreciate you not making me. What I'm saying is, I'd be really grateful if you'd wake up, because there are a lot of people that want to see you. I'm genuinely worried at this point that Dustin is going to give himself an ulcer, and it's at least thirty years too early for that."

He rocks forward on the chair, staring hard at Eddie's bare fingers, resisting the urge to fidget with the ring on his own.

"It feels really weird to be the one doing all the talking," he admits. "You're normally the one that talks out of the two of us and I'm the one that gets confused and tells everyone something is a bad idea. Even in the middle of an absolute hellscape you had a ton of stuff to say. Which, ok, a little annoying, not to mention stupid when we were trying to avoid a psychic magician who could control monsters, but it was your first time in a hellscape so I figured I could give you a pass. In here though, look, I've never been great at carrying a conversation, so I'd appreciate it if you could step up here and take your responsibilities seriously."

No answer to that. Steve supposes it really is just him then?

"I guess the others told you that you're off the hook. The government people had to cover up all the upside-down shit and we kind of got them to pin everything on the people that were already dead - and honestly kind of deserved it. So congrats, everyone now thinks you're a hero who was kidnapped by a serial killer. The paperwork is waiting for you when you wake up. I think there's something in there about him setting his dogs on you though, so you might have to fake being afraid of dogs for the rest of your life. You'd think I'd know how government cover-ups work at this point, since I've been involved in…maybe four of them? But this is what you get when you have a bunch of genius kids who will not stop poking the things they find in the woods and someone has to show up and be all 'for fuck's sake put that down you're going to catch something.' And then I get hit in the head, at least that's usually how it goes."

Which is maybe the least flattering description of his contribution he can think of, but it's not entirely inaccurate.

"Which, if I think about it, is how I got roped into most of this stuff to start with. I was actually trying to apologize the first time, if you can believe that. No good deed and everything. Half the time I don't even know if I'm making good choices and I still sometimes wake up convinced my face is busted up from something I just forgot about, but everyone's still here and I guess I can't ask for more than that.

I'm glad the kids found you though, and that you're taking care of them. And I really mean that, even though it's not always easy to admit. I love them, I do but I don't always get them the way I wish I could, and you get them. Which is just as important as keeping them safe. I'm really grateful that Dustin's had someone who knows how his ridiculous brain works, and how to, like, steer it, because that boy has ideas like crazy but sometimes there's no one at the wheel, or he's at the wheel and he's steering right towards disaster and I don't know enough about boats - I guess - to take it from him. But he trusts you enough to let you take over. This analogy is getting the fuck away from me, but I just wanted to say thanks."

Steve stops, realizing he's run out of breath.

He didn't actually mean to let all of that out. He feels a little bit like a deflated balloon now. But at least it's in a good way. He thinks it's in a good way anyway.

"And I'd really appreciate it if you'd wake up. They all miss you, dude."

-

Steve makes a stop at the store after the hospital, buying enough food to feed anyone who happens to come by his house - even if that turns out to be everyone. It's a shift change on the rota they've basically made up and try their best to follow, so Nancy's driving everyone this evening and Robin is spending time with her folks, which means Steve is going to be on his own. When he's on his own he tends to panic buy. He'd probably panic bake as well if he was better at it, it's not as if it would go to waste.

It occurs to him, belatedly, that Joyce is saying his name, clearly not for the first time, and he's more than a little embarrassed that he'd clearly zoned out while she was talking to him. In his defense, it's been a long day, and it's not even half over yet.

"Are you ok, Steve?"

He nods, realizes he's absently spinning the ring on his finger and makes himself stop.

"Yeah, I'm good, just, you know, stocking up."

She looks down at what he's laid along the belt and nods.

"I can see that."

He can't help the wince he gives at her expression, which he knows is trying really hard not to gently suggest that he might need to speak to someone about his obsession with trying to feed everyone, but he can't help but feel like it's still making the point.

"I can't help it," he says anyway. "It feels like if they're over at my place eating then they're not...anywhere else. Getting into trouble." It's more honest than he normally is and something about that honesty has Joyce's shoulders relaxing, a tired laugh escaping her.

"I hate how good they are at that," she agrees. "And I know exactly what you mean, even when they don't try to find it, trouble has a way of finding them. But you should give yourself a break sometimes. Or at least buy something you want for a change." She shakes the crackers he'd picked up for Dustin at him, which he's repeatedly mentioned hating, not just the taste but the fact that the orange dust is always, always in the carpet. "But I will admit, I'm glad to see you're finally willing to let someone else help you at least."

She glances at the empty store around them, as if making sure it's just the two of them, then looks pointedly down at the ring he's forcing himself not to touch, and that's exactly as obvious as he'd said he would avoid at all costs.

"Oh, ah, it's kind of a new thing, the ring," he says helplessly. And he realizes too long after he'd said it, that it wasn't a denial.

"Eddie Munson's been wearing that for as long as I've known him," Joyce says gently. "The fact that he gave it to you must mean something."

Steve stares at his groceries and feels like a terrible fraud.

"I'm not going to pretend it wasn't a surprise, but then I thought to myself, Joyce, you're thinking too much about appearances, and that's not always what attracts people, I know that. I think you're both a little too good at showing the world exactly what you want people to see. But I have to admit that I was also a little relieved. It's just, I worried, you know. Will told me that you know about him." She gives Steve a pointed look as he shuffles past her to bag everything up. "He told me that you know, and obviously I want to be supportive but I didn't actually know anyone who had experience with that sort of thing, and it felt like I wasn't doing everything I could to make it safe for him. I think having the two of you - I think it could be so good for Will."

There's going to be a special circle of hell just for Steve, he knows it. He thinks he should say something, but he knows if he opens his mouth it's going to be another lie, or something stupid that Joyce will judge him for, so he says nothing. But the look she gives him is so soft, like she'd read something he didn't mean in the silence and it's awful.

"I understand how hard it is to even tell people that you're seeing each other, you can't go out like other people can, and I know that things happen, relationships are hard work but I just want to thank you for being there for him when he was feeling lost about himself, and making the idea of finding someone in the future feel normal and reachable and -"

The doors open, two women Steve vaguely recognises head inside already halfway through a conversation.

Joyce squeezes his arm, her hand small and warm, she smiles at him and Steve carries his groceries out to the car feeling about a thousand pounds heavier. He's pretty sure with some distance this would be funny. This would probably be funny to a bystander, watching the terrible car crash of it happening in real time. This whole thing has snowballed in such a stupid way and the worst part is - Steve can't remember the last time he felt this loved.

So maybe he can't...maybe he can't actually say anything about this after all. Maybe he just has to be a little bit gay now.

He should probably talk to Robin but he thinks he's going to go home and restock his kitchen until he feels better instead.

-

Steve has no idea how there even is a school to go back to at this point, for all that it's supposed to be opening tomorrow. Maybe the people in charge think that if they don't force the town back into some terrible version of normal as quickly as possible then society itself will break down. He knows the kid's all hate the idea of having to concentrate - or pretending to concentrate - on schoolwork after everything. He also knows that after what they've been through it's really difficult for them to mingle with a bunch of other teenagers who don't know what it's like to worry that your friend is going to snap into fifty pieces and die during math class.

Which Steve knows is a valid fear for his kids to have now, as amazingly awful as that is, but he also knows that it's not good for them to live in this sharp-edged holding space where they can't trust anyone not in the group, and they forget what it's like to just be kids. He feels like he's already living that for himself and he would not recommend it.

Dustin keeps trying to offer him chips but Steve is not a fan of eating in hospital rooms, because it's gross and disrespectful to people who currently have eighty-five stitches between stomach and neck.

"You think he wouldn't want you to keep your strength up? You can't waste away, Steve, he's going to need you."

"Shut up, I probably eat better than you do."

"That's a lie." It comes out mangled because he's still eating the damn things. "I know for a fact you have a -" Instead of finishing the sentence Dustin throws the entire bag of chips over himself, mouth spitting shards of food everywhere and Steve can't understand a word he's garbling. Until Dustin physically puts a cheese dust covered hand on Steve's face and pushes it sideways, so he's looking down at the bed, at where Eddie Munson is sluggishly blinking his way out of a week-long nap.

"Holy shit," Steve breathes, chair sliding back as he sways to his feet.

"Eddie!" Dustin has managed to swallow, or choke out, what had been in his mouth and is leaning over the bed, scrunching the tacky hospital blankets and biting out his name over and over again.

Steve can feel his shaky joy from the other side and he's never been so relieved to see anyone wake up before, it had felt like way too long and he thinks this is what everyone has been waiting for, for everyone to finally come back from the battle.

Dustin gets a lopsided smile from the bed, a little confused looking, and then the long, slurring sound of his name. Steve sees his reaction and can't help feeling it when he sees it light Dustin up. He instantly starts rambling out apologies and declarations of loyalty and a whole bunch of stuff that Steve's pretty sure Eddie is on way too many drugs to take in right now. He's proven right when there's a series of quiet humming noises, as if Eddie's happy to see him but is still mostly out of it.

Dustin doesn't seem to care, he just starts his round of apologies again, gripping Eddie's hand in both his own and struggling his way through too many emotions.

Eddie's head rolls in Steve's direction and he's not expecting to get the same smile as Dustin, which is clearly pulling at the stitches that travel down his jaw.

"Hey, Stevie," Eddie offers, and it's surprised and warm, the smile not falling an inch at finding him so close. Steve can't help thinking that whoever does get to wear his ring for real, they better deserve it.

Chapter Text

Munson's room is busy for the next hour, doctors and nurses come in, poking things and writing things down and asking questions about how Eddie's feeling and what he remembers. Steve worries for a second that none of the people asking actually have clearance to hear the answers they're going to get, and he can tell by the sudden panicked side-eye from across the bed that Dustin is thinking the same thing. But Eddie seems content to make vague noises and not actually mention the alternate dimension, or monstrous bat creatures, or evil psychic wizards. Which, honestly, is pretty smart of him considering he'd literally just woken up, but probably means they're not going to have to break into the hospital later and burn any evidence. The fact that this is even a possibility they have to panic over is on the government agents that haven't done much but quietly haunt the hospital corridors since everything went down.

Eddie gets his meds turned down a little, which he's clearly disgruntled about, and then Steve heads outside to make as many phone calls as he can with the money that's in his pocket. It makes a nice change to be calling around the phone tree with good news for once, and for a while there's a stream of people in and out of Eddie's room. Steve mostly hovers by the window, watching everyone come to life in a way they haven't for a while, even the ones that don't know Eddie very well.

The day's only half over when Eddie falls asleep again, because it turns out that the energy required to be awake and talking to people after spending a week unconscious is enough to knock him right out again.

Steve eventually swaps shifts with Wayne, leaving him to ferry the kids home where their parents can hopefully feed, hydrate and convince them to sleep after all the excitement. Because god knows Steve isn't up to it today. There's still no change in Max, even though a few of them had wondered, with more hope than anything else, if Eddie waking up would start some sort of coma-awakening daisy-chain reaction. They'd also protested, loudly and as a group, that Eddie is now awake and who gives a damn that it's a school night. Steve thinks it's kind of unfair that he's the one forced to a) call them out for their language and b) always be the one that has to tell them they can't do shit.

He's tired...he's so fucking tired, he's not even twenty this doesn't feel fair.

So this time he puts his foot down and uses it to walk out. He'll let their parents convince them that they have to go to school, that they have to at least make the effort to look like they have normal lives. He goes home and heats up half the lasagna that Claudia had brought round for him the night before, and then all but passes out on the couch for seven hours.

The extended nap surprises him when he finally claws his way to consciousness again. He doesn't get many long stretches of sleep anymore so maybe the universe figured that it owed him. Or maybe it was some sort of weird sympathy sleep that Eddie had passed off on him after finding himself in the land of the living.

The next morning, Nancy and El ride to the hospital with him, since El's not technically signed up for school in Hawkins yet. She seems both happy and hopeful, which Steve takes to mean that Max's medical improvements are also a sign that she's reachable in there somewhere now, that she's healing in her own way, even if it's slower than Eddie. Steve still wishes more than anything that Max was awake, if only to throw him one of those absolutely scathing expressions, because he knows damn well that she'd be the one to find this whole thing he'd dropped himself into the most entertaining. No matter how fiercely he tried to explain himself. Which he supposes is fair, any explanation he can think of still ends up making him look like the idiot who started it.

He sits in with El and Nancy for a bit, even though he hates seeing Max like this, looking so small and quiet in a blocky sea of white, but he lets some of El's optimism sink into his bones. He finally lets himself believe that it's a matter of 'when' and not 'if.' It helps, it really does.

"Eddie's awake, Steve," Nancy reminds him eventually, the comment offered quietly over the hum of the machines. "He'd want you to be in there."

Steve thinks that's heavily debatable. But he also knows that all of Eddie's friends - that didn't briefly think he was a murderer at least - are currently in school or at work, so he's awake and alone right now. He worries for a moment which is worse, looking too eager or not eager enough to go and visit him. He can't even remember what his plan was now. Either way he tells them he'll be back in a while and goes to see how Munson's doing in the land of the living.

Someone has shifted the bed so Eddie's not flat on his back anymore, though he's not entirely upright either, probably due to the number of stitches still in him. He doesn't look happy about it. He's been on the good antibiotics and the good drugs for a week though, so with any luck he's going to heal more cleanly than Steve, who mostly scrubbed his wounds with peroxide, slapped some bandages on them and then ignored them for three days. A fact which Robin is still furious with him for. Half because she loves him and wants him to take care of his gross wounds and half because he possibly spent three days as a potential germ factory in her presence.

"I am forbidden pudding cups," Eddie complains the moment he sees him, voice still a little scratchy after a week of not using it. "Can you believe it?" The stitches on his jaw pull when he talks and it's clearly uncomfortable but he doesn't seem in a hurry to stop. If anything the smile Steve gets looks like it hurts worse. "I need a man on the inside to smuggle me in contraband. I swear, a pudding cup is not going to kill me. I think all the people with medical degrees just hate fun."

"I mean if there's any chance, it's probably best not to risk it," Steve decides, after a moment's thought. Eddie had been kind of a mess in general and he's not sure pudding cups count as vital nutrition, even if he hasn't technically eaten for a week. "Probably not the kind of advertising they want either."

"Then maybe they shouldn't feed them to people in a hospital, by the law of averages alone -" Eddie either forgets where he was going with the thought or he's suddenly realized how weird it is that Steve has shown up alone, dragging a chair in next to his bed and - as always - tossing his jacket on the spare with the wobbly leg by the window. "To what do I owe the pleasure, Harrington?"

Steve's not dramatic enough to grab his chest, but he's tempted.

"Ouch, you save the world with a guy and don't even end up on a first name basis."

Eddie's still smiling as he watches Steve drop into the chair next to him and pull one leg over the other, which he takes as a good sign.

"Fine, fine, Steve." Eddie looks like he's tempted to lean sideways into his space but suddenly becomes aware of the sheer number of bandages and medical tubes still attached to him. "I would get up and greet you properly with a manly backslap but -" He carefully gestures at himself and Steve has to laugh. "I'm kind of hooked up, in several places, some of which I really don't want to expose in public."

"Yeah, best not to fuck up all the hard work they went to putting you together again," Steve tells him.

Eddie lays a hand on his bandaged chest, fingers light but he still winces. Steve's not sure if that's actual pain or the memory of it. He's not sure it makes a difference.

"They told you that the whole manhunt is off now?" Steve feels like that's an important thing to know. The kids might have skipped over it but Wayne certainly wouldn't have done.

"Yeah, I did wonder about the whole situation." Eddie lifts his hands, slowly but pointedly, and it takes a second for Steve to work out that he's demonstrating that he's not handcuffed to the bed, which apparently came as a surprise to him. Steve's pretty sure if someone had tried then almost a dozen traumatized teens would have made themselves a problem. He would definitely have been one of them. "I fully did not expect to wake up a free man - shit, didn't expect to wake up at all. But, yeah, Dustin and Lucas caught me up, they spared me no grisly detail, serial killer escape, torture, dramatic rescue, government alibi. Can kind of tell that was thought up as a group project in a dark room somewhere. But I'm not going to pretend I'm not grateful that I didn't wake up handcuffed to a bed."

He fixes a look on Steve, something pinched between his eyes, and it hadn't actually occurred to him how terrifying that might have been.

"Though I don't think for a second that the whole town is swallowing it."

"You'd be surprised," Steve offers with a dry laugh, leaning back in the chair and stretching his legs out. "There may have been a story in the local paper about how it was a tragedy that a small town could turn on one of its own so easily, to the point of witch hunts and attempted murder. While a real monster was allowed to roam free and kill again. It was a really bad look."

Eddie's eyes widen, head bending forward like he doesn't quite believe it.

"That story wouldn't happen to have been written by Nancy Wheeler?" He's clearly mostly joking, Steve can tell as much when he looks stunned at his slow nod.

"It was a good story," Steve tells him. "They did a second print run. The quotes from local children about how you protected them without hesitation were especially touching."

Eddie has both eyebrows raised.

Steve shrugs. "I'm sorry, dude, you're a hero, you have to live with it now."

Eddie blows out a breath and sinks back into the pillows muttering something about his reputation before laughing, though it sounds a little forced.

"Speaking of." Eddie's still looking at the ceiling when he says it. "Someone might have mentioned that I have you to thank for the fact that I'm even breathing right now. That you literally hauled my body out of the dirt and carried me back through the gate bleeding out and chewed to pieces. I say mentioned it, when really I mean they bring it up constantly. Though I definitely do not remember anything past the screaming and the being eaten and the tragically fading into the afterlife."

"Or not," Steve says firmly.

"Or not, as I very recently discovered," Eddie confirms with a slow nod. "Right before the whole 'not being chained to a bed' part."

"Dustin's been sharing then," Steve says, knowing without even having to ask.

"It might have been Dustin," Eddie agrees.

Steve refuses to feel awkward about it. It's not like he was going to leave Eddie there, not if there was a chance to save him, he'd deserved more than that. They still thought they'd lost him twice on the way to the hospital, Steve's hands pressed down hard on his chest, keeping as much blood inside him as he could, and sometimes he still hears Nancy saying 'he's still breathing' in his dreams. Of course, he's not sharing any of that with Eddie.

"Look, I guarantee it wasn't as dramatic as he made it sound. We were all mostly running on adrenaline and I wasn't leaving anyone in a hell dimension, especially not after what you did. Which I was not happy about, let me tell you, and since you're awake now I can call you out on your heroic bullshit to your face. What did I tell you, Munson?!"

Eddie does actually look at him then.

"Doing as I'm told has never really been my style." He smiles with half his face, the other side tugging uncomfortably. "But if I'd known all it took to get swept off my feet was a bit of bullshit heroics." He tries to whistle, fucks it up entirely and promptly pretends it was on purpose.

Steve, for one, didn't appreciate his bullshit heroics, but couldn't exactly fault him for them.

"So was it bridal style, or did you just throw me over your shoulder like a sack of dirt?" Eddie asks, before waving a hand when Steve opens his mouth. "No, no, I'm going to picture the first, it's more album cover worthy, so if it's the second don't tell me."

He's talking too fast and Steve thinks he's doing it to smooth over the horror of remembering it all, remembering how much of a mess those things had made of him. If Steve is nothing else he's always been good at providing a distraction.

"Full spread," Steve offers, holding his arms up, palms raised. "Across both arms. You're heavier than you look and your stupid chain wallet caught me in the balls at least once."

Eddie laughs, loud and sudden, and Steve knows immediately that it's too much, it leaves his whole body jolting when the movement must catch every stitch, leaves him hissing air with his eyes screwed shut, very clearly in pain.

"Fuck, Harrington," he wheezes eventually.

"I'm sorry," Steve says, hand reaching out without thinking to curl around his forearm, the skin warm under his fingers. "I shouldn't have made you laugh."

"Shit, no, I think I needed that." Eddie relaxes in stages, wincing visibly as he sinks back into the pillows again. He doesn't open his eyes and his next words come out rough. "Thanks, man, I owe you one, like a big one. You don't get carried out of literal hell every day."

"You don't owe me anything," Steve says simply, hand sliding back into his own lap. "We were getting out of there, all of us."

Eddie's eyes open, roll in his direction, and he's shaking his head like he doesn't quite believe any of it actually happened.

"God, is it really all over? I would say 'lie to me if necessary' but I think that would hurt more later if you did the whole 'haha just kidding.' So if that's the case then just, like, soften the blow."

For all the levity the question is genuine, the fear is genuine and maybe someone should have done a better job of reassuring Eddie as soon as he woke up. The thought that he might have been lying in this bed thinking that it wasn't over. That Vecna was still out there somewhere - it kind of makes Steve want to smack every one of his kids around the back of the head. At least Wayne has an excuse - in that he doesn't know a goddamn thing about Vecna.

"I think it really is. I mean, I don't have psychic powers to see into other dimensions and stuff, but if El says we're all good then I believe her. Town's kind of a wreck though - you probably heard about that."

Eddie's nodding, the dry strands of his hair scratching at the pillows.

"Yeah, fuck, I think me and Wayne are homeless." There's no laugh this time, more of a frown, as if that's something Eddie is going to have to deal with now, on top of everything else. Jesus, what had Dustin and the kids been in here telling him if not literally anything that would reassure him?

"No, the government's compensating people, since it was apparently their experimental fuck-up originally or something." At Eddie's confused look he waves a hand. "It's a long story, I'll fill you in later if Dustin doesn't. But you and Wayne have a new trailer at the back, I've been dropping off stuff for the people there since it was a wreck for a while and no one could drive to town, road's mostly patched up again now. Oh and I figured since Wayne's still working full time and you're probably going to need someone around all the time when you get out of here, you can stay with me if you want to. Your choice, obviously."

Eddie winces.

"I'm kind of a mess, aren't I? I mean I haven't looked but I've seen how many drugs I'm on right now, and I remember well enough what it felt like."

"You've definitely got some stitches that are not going to enjoy moving for a while," Steve confirms, now he's awake he'll get a good look when they change his bandages and he worries about that a little. About how he'll react to seeing it all. Steve saw the worst of it when it happened, knows how much he's missing. "I think they wanted to give me a few myself, but my bites had mostly scabbed over so they just threw some antibiotics at me. Hospital was kind of full for the first few days. I didn't need to be here." No matter what anyone else had said.

Eddie's head tips in his direction, bandages rustling against the sheets, he's frowning as if he'd just remembered something.

"Speaking of you, did something happen while I was asleep, or unconscious, or convalescing or whatever?"

"What do you mean?"

"Ah, people have been mentioning you a lot, around me." Eddie clearly thinks he's missing something but isn't sure whether he should bring it up. "They've been weirdly insistent that you were coming back, like I was supposed to be waiting for you? I figured you had something important to tell me."

"Oh shit, yeah, I completely forgot about that." Steve can't believe the whole thing had slipped his mind on top of everything. In his defence, Eddie waking up had been pretty damn important and worrying about his own stupid mess had taken a backseat to enjoying something good happening for once.

"Forgot what? Did something happen?" Eddie looks worried and Steve hopes that eventually he'll stop seeing that expression on his friend's faces.

"No, it's not - it's not awful or anything it's just really stupid and I meant to explain to you when you woke up -" Steve lifts his hand and spreads his fingers, letting Eddie get a look at where his ring is still very much wedged on his finger. He spots it immediately, because of course he's going to recognise his own jewelry.

Eddie blinks, looking from the ring to Steve's face, then to his own bare hand.

"Harrington, why are you wearing my ring?" He sounds more bewildered than annoyed, which is one relief.

"Funny story," Steve starts, and then laughs. "Ok, I'll start at the beginning. I took your stuff home to clean it, because it was covered in blood and I didn't want you to get out of the hospital and for them to just hand you a bag with everything they took off you looking like a horror show." He leans forward in his chair, elbows balanced on his knees because this is kind of embarrassing and he doesn't want half a dozen nurses to hear. "I figured it would be a shitty reminder of - of everything. So I'm cleaning your rings and my doorbell goes and so I kind of slip it on my own hand, just so I can answer the door. But then when I get back upstairs it doesn't come off."

"You got it stuck didn't you?" There's far too much amusement in that. Eddie looks tempted to reach out and grab the thing, as if to see for himself how stuck the damn thing was. His nose is scrunched in exactly the same way as Robin's, like he also thinks Steve's perfectly normal reaction was wildly stupid.

"I got it stuck," Steve confirms. "And it wouldn't come off. Honestly, dude, it was a complete accident, I tried everything to shift it, but no dice. People have mentioned that you've been wearing it a long time and I didn't know if it meant something to you so I didn't want to break it, or damage it, by trying to cut it off."

Eddie's hand fidgets on the bed, thumb rubbing the bare spaces like he misses the weight. Steve sets his own down on the blanket without thinking about it, so it's within reach if Eddie wants to check for himself. It turns easily enough, it just won't come off.

"Hey, it's cool. I mean, I have had it a long time and it's been through a lot but don't worry about it. It's been stuck on me a few times too. I'm surprised they got it off when they rushed me in here, to be honest. I know they'll just cut shit off if they can't so maybe the damn thing is lucky now, who knows. Use your wishes wisely, I guess." He sets two fingers down on the metal, and Steve can feel the warmth of them when they nudge his own. "Seriously though, it's fine, it'll come off eventually. Don't worry about it. You can give it back whenever that happens."

Steve gives a nervous laugh and Eddie's eyes lift to stare at him through his messy bangs.

"That's ah, that's only half the story though."

"Ok?" Eddie says, and then waits.

Steve knows it'll be easier if he just puts it all out there, but he's aware that Eddie might not like what he has to say. He drags both hands through his hair.

"Right, so, people might have seen me wearing your ring and...got the wrong impression."

Eddie's fingers, which had started idly swiveling the ring on his hand abruptly stop doing that, they move back to settle against his own leg instead. Which leaves Steve feeling oddly bereft, he knows he probably deserves it because he's the one who'd messed up here, messed up and then failed to fix it for a week, so much so that it's become a whole thing.

"And I kind of didn't notice at first because, in my defense, there was a lot going on and I was still bringing the kids here every day and trying to hand out stuff for the relief efforts. I didn't realize how many people would clock it, and recognize it. But now everyone kind of thinks we're...um...together. That we're dating or something."

Eddie blinks and says nothing, and that's the most damning part of all. Steve can't just leave the silence, he starts talking again, almost against his will.

"By which I mean most of our friends and families, all of them really. They kind of talk amongst themselves."

"But you told them - ah -" Eddie's voice has a faint rattle to it, as if he'd forced the words out on a breath, and Steve kind of hates that he's responsible for it. "You told them we're not though, right?"

"I tried to play it down as soon as I realized," Steve says hurriedly. "Which, I'll admit, took me a minute. My fault, honestly, but it's been crazy here since everything happened. I tried to tell them that I was just taking care of it for you. I even tried to tell Lucas it was an accident but I don't think he believed me. In fact if anything the more I tried to make it look like nothing the more obvious it looked, or maybe incriminating is a better word for how it looked, I don't know. But by then it had been like a week and outright denying it to everyone and staying away while you were in a coma was kind of -"

"Oh shit, yeah, that's a bad look," Eddie says faintly. He clears his throat. "So now everyone thinks - no, everyone knows, that I'm -" He stops and gives a short laugh that sounds a little too thin to be genuine humor. "Ok, but everyone believed this though? The idea that me and you are together." His hand gestures between them, a disbelieving sort of wave that seems to be demonstrating them both as incompatible. "I'm not quite getting that part."

"Honestly, that was the wildest part to me too," Steve admits. Because he's really glad someone else actually sees this too. "Since I'd been around you while you were awake for basically three days at this point, and Nancy was there for most of it. I think she thought that whole conversation I had with her was a desperate cover for my burgeoning feelings for you or something." He winces and hopes it feels like an apology.

"Jesus." Eddie presses both hands to his face for second, before letting them slowly drop back to the bed.

"I'm really sorry, I did try to kind of divert them away from the idea a whole bunch of times, but it's been a topic of conversation and with literally nothing else to talk about except earthquakes and the both of you being in a coma, I feel like they've made it a whole thing which they should absolutely not be as invested in as they seem to be." Steve's doing things with his hands that he can't control, making gestures that make no sense. But everyone he'd spoken to for a week thinks he has a boyfriend except Robin, and he thinks maybe he had energy to burn. "So it feels like it's not just one big fire to put out but a bunch of smaller fires that keep getting re-lit every time they talk to each other. I tried to stop talking about it and ignore all of their weird suggestions, but then I think everyone thought I was just in my head about it because you were almost mortally wounded, so they kept trying to comfort me. And it's just been, fuck, it's been a lot and I really want to apologise for making a mess of everything while you were in a coma. Because I fully did not intend you to come out of the horrors of the upside-down as a fully exonerated free man, only to have me immediately make a mess of your life." Steve slumps over his own knees, not sure if he feels better or worse for getting all that out.

The quiet goes on for an almost uncomfortable length of time.

"Steve, you know if someone has said something, or done something -" Eddie chews the undamaged side of his mouth for a second, before fixing his eyes on Steve. "You know you can throw me under the bus, ok, you can tell them that I was the one who -"

That might be the most depressing thing Eddie has ever said to him and Steve can't let it stand, he can't let him keeping thinking that.

"No, shit, no, Eddie, everyone has been really fucking nice about it."

Eddie's eyes go wide.

"I'm sorry?"

"Yeah, like a couple of people came out to me, and I think I agreed to be a supportive presence for someone else, which you might really have to help me with because I don't actually know how to be gay - or bisexual I guess? I'm going to fuck it up if anyone asks me questions and everyone I know is too important for me to risk that. Claudia is making so much food for when you get out, and Wayne wants to watch a game with me some time so he can get to know me. I've also been invited to three barbecues, I mean actually we've been invited, I'm supposed to bring you with me when you're better -"

"Oh my god." Eddie is staring at him like he's never seen him before. "I was out of action for a week, Steve, how the hell did you manage to - " The sound that comes out of him clearly wants to be a laugh but it feels a little...panicked.

"But, I mean, now you're awake you'll probably want to explain to everyone that it's not true. Or you could blame it on everything that happened to us, trauma bonding and stuff, which Robin has been kind of obsessed with lately. Or maybe one of us just got the wrong idea when everything was happening and we're actually better as friends. Or maybe convince everyone that it was a mistake all along and I didn't make it clear enough to everyone. Dude, you're so much better at this than me and I feel like you could explain this in a way that everyone would actually believe. But whatever you want to do, I'll accept it."

Eddie still looks surprised about the whole thing but Steve takes the pause to look at his watch and realizes that he's going to need to pick up the kids soon if they're coming here after school.

"Shit, I have to go, Dustin, Mike and Lucas wanted to come today and I think Erica too. I have to pick them up after school -" He almost throws his jacket on the floor trying to get it on. "I have to grab Nancy and El first, they're in with Max today. She's doing good by the way, El seems to think she's there, that she'll wake up when she's ready, and honestly I've learned to trust when she's sure about something."

"Yeah, sure, thanks for coming back." Eddie still looks a little overwhelmed, and Steve feels bad about that, but honestly being overwhelmed has kind of been their go-to emotion for a while now. "I'll see you later, I guess?"

"Yeah, I'll be back later to drop them off, and then tomorrow. I'm spending tonight with Robin, Nancy said she'd take them home today. Shit, I'm just - I'm sorry I kind of dropped this all on you when you've only been awake for a day but I didn't want anyone else to blurt it out and for you to have no idea what was going on."

Eddie's nodding and he looks a little bit less like a deer in headlights.

"No, yeah, I get it. Definitely would have failed that test they do where they ask you the year, and who's the president, and if you're dating Steve Harrington."

"That's for head injuries," Steve tells him. "I've had that one, I aced it."

Eddie looks like he's smiling under duress.

"I don't think I'm passing anything anytime soon," The smile falls away as he looks around the room. "I guess a lot was going on with you all while I was busy napping, obviously I missed it."

He sounds so dismissive about it, as if it doesn't matter, and Steve can't let that stand. He pushes his arms all the way inside his sleeves so he can fold them.

"Eddie, don't for a second think that someone wasn't here with you every day, man, waiting for you to wake up. Wayne, whenever he wasn't at work, me and Robin, Nancy, all the kids. There's a whole stack of tapes over there, and books that everyone's been reading to you, so you knew you weren't alone in here. You're one of us now, dude, you don't go through this shit with us and then get left behind. We've all been worried about you, and if you think any of that's going to stop, that you're just going to be left here alone now you're awake, then you're wrong. Not even joking, there's a fourteen-year-old genius who I'm pretty sure would literally fistfight the upside-down to prove how wrong you are if necessary."

Eddie's eyes go bright in a way Steve's familiar with before he quickly drops his head to stare down at his own knuckles. Steve concentrates on zipping up his jacket rather than risk making Eddie uncomfortable by watching. His breathing is still a little shaky when Steve reaches over, he's not sure how sturdy Eddie's shoulders are right now so he grips his hand instead, squeezes his bare fingers.

"I gotta run, I'll see you later."

-

Steve shares the last half of the lasagna with Robin. They're both sitting on the floor by the couch because they couldn't be bothered to go any further, shoes kicked off in a way that he knows he's going to trip over when they inevitably fall asleep and the whole room ends up dark.

"How's your boyfriend?" she asks around a mouthful of pasta and cheese sauce.

"He's good, I've been getting him up to speed, the kids are all thrilled to have him back, and apparently he's healing really well. Also, that's still super funny by the way."

She tucks her feet under his knee and wiggles her toes to remind him she's only teasing.

"No, seriously, how did the explanation go? Did you officially break up? Do I have to buy ice cream and console you, I want to be a good friend in your time of need."

"I explained everything and let him decide how he wants to handle it."

Robin pauses, the fork halfway to her mouth. Instead of eating what she's holding she lowers it to the plate again, where the fork rests with a clatter.

"What?" he asks, because her face looks undecided whether to be surprised or judgy right now. "I thought it would be fair. I kind of accidentally dragged him into a whole fake relationship while he was recovering from nearly dying, Robin. I didn't want to do anything else without him weighing in on how he wanted to play it. Also, he's only been awake a couple of days and he's on a lot of drugs right now so it might be best to just give him a minute."

Robin pulls a face, and it's obvious that she's still conflicted.

"You know, I was all ready to joke about this, make fun of you for a little bit longer, considering how it all started. But the fact that you're being decent about it when it could just be like a source of discomfort and weirdness for you, and I can't do it. Also, I'm just pleased to have our long-haired troublemaker back."

Steve can't help but agree, he'd spent what felt like forever going to the hospital as a visitor who didn't expect any changes. Now Eddie's awake, it's different, it feels more like they're piecing themselves back together again. Eddie's a new piece but Steve thinks he's going to fit pretty well.

"It was good to see him again. He's just as annoying as I remember. Which I guess I'll have to get used to since we're apparently friends for life now."

Robin nods agreement while she chews.

"Yep, friends for life, upside-down rules. You gotta take me some time tomorrow, I'll try for the afternoon when you grab the kids."

Steve nods. "Ok, I'll swing by, but don't make him laugh, I made a stupid joke today and I thought I was going to kill him. Oh, and when we go shopping tomorrow, remind me to pick up pudding cups. He mentioned wanting some."

"Careful, Steve, if you spoil your boyfriend he'll want to keep you."

Steve shoves lasagna in his mouth so he doesn't have to think of a reply to that.

Chapter Text

"Eddie says you haven't been to see him yet today?"

Steve stops trying to decide between two types of chips and throws them both in the cart.

"Yeah, well, I told you I had to buy groceries."

"You didn't go and see him yesterday either." Dustin makes that sound like an accusation somehow, as if Steve's not going to see him on purpose, which is true but he doesn't think he deserves that tone. "Also, you're literally always buying groceries, how is your house not overflowing with food right now? It's like you're trying to prepare for another disaster. Or like you're avoiding a problem. Did you and Eddie fight?" The idea clearly horrifies him and Steve has no idea why Dustin is so invested in their fake relationship. It's not like it benefits him in any way, and his refusal to talk about it really should have worn some of the general air of nosiness off already. "He just woke up, Steve, what could you possibly have to fight about?"

"No, we didn't fight - why, what did he say?" Steve's trying to sound casual as he considers which kind of nuts to get. Why do there have to be so many? He can't remember which ones are El's favorite and he's annoyed about it. After everything she's done for all of them she deserves to have the nuts she likes at his house, at the very least. He can hear Robin in his head telling him it's not about the nuts but he's ignoring her.

"He said that it's all kind of overwhelming for you both right now, what with everyone knowing that you're dating. Which, y'know, I was originally hurt and angry that you didn't tell me, obviously. But I understand now that you were both keeping it secret for very valid reasons. He said that you didn't expect it all to come out like that, and with everything you were dealing with, I can see that it was probably the worst possible timing."

"He said that?" Steve can't help the surprise, because he'd honestly expected Eddie to let the kids down gently about the whole thing as soon as he saw them. That he'd get it over and done with straight away. At worst, Steve figured he'd make up some sort of wild story that he'd be forced to corroborate later. This is different though, this might leave him needing to do a whole different sort of damage control.

"Yeah, he did, and I get it. I get why everything might be hard for you both right now. I mean, I know Hawkins isn't exactly a great place to be in this sort of relationship. I know you can't -" Dustin makes a point of looking around to make sure no one's in earshot, which Steve kind of wants to congratulate him for but he's too curious how Eddie's spinning the whole thing. "That you can't hold hands or kiss in public or anything. I know you can't be overt about liking each other, but he's been in a coma for a week, Steve. He has a hundred stitches in his chest."

"Eighty-five," Steve corrects automatically, before bringing the cart to an abrupt halt. "Wait, he confirmed to you that we're together?"

"Yes, of course, and I know that was a huge show of trust. So I want you to know that I am no longer mad about you not telling me -" Dustin stops himself abruptly, then wraps a hand around the cart like Steve might try and wheel it off while he's in the middle of talking. "Ok, I am still a little mad about you not telling me, but I understand now that there were extenuating circumstances. We all nearly died, we were trying to save the world and it wasn't really the time to talk about relationship drama, and also it wasn't only your secret to tell. So I'm going to give you a pass just this once and be very mature about it. Even though this is like a massive part of your life and I feel like I really should have been informed. I could have been being supportive earlier, you could have come to me. But I'm not going to take that as a show of you not trusting me, because I feel like we're past that after everything we've been through together."

Something else gets dropped in the cart while he's not looking and Steve wonders if Dustin is trying to distract him on purpose.

"He told you we were together?" he says again. Because he's kind of stuck on that part.

"Yes, god, Steve, are you even listening to me?"

"I was trying to - no, put that back, the one thing we don't need is more popcorn."

"The world nearly ended, Steve," Dustin declares, as if that's a valid excuse to cave to his snack choices. Which Steve just knows is going to become a thing if he doesn't nip it in the bud right now. It's going to become a whole thing where the end of the world is now an excuse for the kids to have everything they want. And the demanding little assholes don't need any more power over him.

The popcorn does not get put back on the damn shelf.

"Three kinds, unopened," Steve argues, because he's the one who has to find space in his kitchen for all this shit. But Dustin pulls a face and he can't bring himself to chuck it out. So instead he sighs, shuffles it so it isn't going to get crushed by the frozen stuff, then kicks off again until they get to the end of the aisle and turn.

"Look, I know sometimes we...take advantage of you for our own needs." Dustin looks like he's choosing his words carefully, watching for a reaction which Steve is determined not to give him. But he thinks hell might actually be freezing over because this is the second time Dustin has tried to be understanding and supportive of his adult needs in a week. "Though, in our defense, our needs are usually pretty important, in the grand scheme of things."

Steve knows that's a lie, because for every hint of upside-down bullshit there are a hundred little errands and trips and phone calls that were non-urgent, no matter what they say. It turns out Dustin hasn't finished though.

"I feel like sometimes we forget that you might have your own needs as well."

"Can we not have this conversation in a store?" Steve would really rather they didn't have it at all. Because thinking about his fake relationship is bad enough but if Dustin even hints at trying to talk to him about his fake sex life then he's leaving. Groceries be damned, he'll abandon them in the middle of the aisle if necessary.

"Steve, would you please listen to me. I'm just saying it's ok to be selfish about Eddie's attention, because I know he kind of wants you to be."

"He didn't say that," Steve says, over a jar of dip.

"He implied it." Dustin adds a meaningful eyebrow to that. Which isn't helping his case, no matter what he thinks.

"He did not imply it." Steve knows that there's no way Eddie Munson is lying in a hospital bed making Dustin think he's pining for him. The thought is completely ridiculous.

"The implication was obvious, Steve, you had to be there. Which you kind of weren't, is what I'm saying. Your absence has been noted. Noted."

Steve rubs the space between his eyes.

"So Eddie explained to you about how we're -"

"Yes, he explained everything, since you made kind of a hash of doing it yourself, in fact you never actually explained it at all. I honestly thought you were better at this but maybe that's just when you're dating girls. Is this your first non-girl relationship? Because that would make sense, it's probably totally different. There's probably a learning curve."

Dustin is circling the cart like the world's worst predator, as if he's trying to stop Steve from getting anything done today until he confesses to...something? He resists the urge to bury his face in the jars of pasta sauce they're currently next to, if only so he has an excuse to not be looking at Dustin right now.

"Which I may have also brought up to Eddie, while we were talking, by the way. But I told him that you said you were going to take care of him when he got out of the hospital - which by the way he didn't think you were actually serious about. Which was stupid because where else was he supposed to stay? You don't just offer something that important in casual conversation, Steve. You don't toss it out like a foul ball."

"Not how that even works," Steve mutters.

Dustin ignores him.

"It's a big deal, and you need to make a big deal out of it. You know how Eddie secretly worries that people don't want him around, that he's going to outstay his welcome."

Steve did not, in fact, know that.

"There's been a lot going on." He's getting a little sick of having to say that, but in his defense it's still true, both of the upside-down variety and of his own making. There is a lot going on. "He's not moving in for god's sake, it's just until he can do shit on his own again, he can barely lift his arms right now and he needs people around."

Dustin mutters something about Eddie needing him around in particular but Steve is ignoring him.

"Not moving in," he repeats, adding a can of pickles, and then smacking Dustin's hand when he tries to take them straight out again.

"Not moving in yet, got it," Dustin says with a nod and what he probably thinks is a subtle wink. "But this is perfect, because your house is more than large enough for everyone to meet in, and you have space downstairs if Eddie can't make the stairs. We can hold hellfire there as soon as he gets better -"

"Dustin, he's not moving in."

Dustin scrunches his face doubtfully at him in a way that Steve absolutely hates and the little shit knows it.

"Don't pull that face at me."

"Wow, Steve, I would have thought you'd be excited to spend time with your boyfriend without anyone else around."

Steve is not thinking about that or anything that it implies.

"Ok, we're officially done talking about my relationship unless you want to walk home."

Steve hadn't expected to even have a relationship after he'd spoken to Eddie two days ago, the idea of him doubling down on the whole thing had never occurred to him. Though he's currently stuck in a hospital with no entertainment and no freedom, so maybe that mistake was on him.

Either way he'd kind of given Eddie permission to make his own decision about the whole thing so if he wants to wait until he's out of the hospital, or until they can talk properly again, to do anything dramatic, then Steve can give him that much at least.

-

Steve gets to the hospital between groups of children, because he hadn't really wanted an audience for this. He comes bearing pudding cups and a stack of books from the library - which is still surprisingly open, it turns out that people who like to read really like to read and not even earthquakes and impending doom will stop them.

Eddie's more upright today, a stack of pillows behind him, bandages from hip to shoulder and some sort of transparent plastic over the wound at the curve of his jaw.

He's honestly not sure which Eddie's more excited about, the pudding cups or the books, but Steve figures it's been long enough that he's not going to keel over if exposed to chocolate. He'd managed to snag a plastic spoon from the cafeteria too, which was probably the most joyless room he'd ever been in and he hoped he never had to go back there.

"I wasn't sure if you were coming back," Eddie says, and neither the tone of voice nor the expression he's wearing is giving Steve anything. He doesn't know him well enough to read him yet. And it really doesn't help that most of the time he'd spent with him so far, he seemed to take almost every interaction as an excuse for high drama and theatrics. Munson in a hospital bed is strangely muted.

Steve folds his arms over his chest and gives him a pointed look as he attempts to rip paper off the top of his dessert. It seems to be too much for either his strength or his coordination right now though, so Steve leans over and does it for him.

"Hey, I was your friend before I was your fake boyfriend, of course I wasn't going to stay away forever while you're in the hospital."

He ignores Munson murmuring a confused 'we're friends?' Before deciding, no, he's not going to let that stand.

"Of course, idiot. I was trying to give you some space. But I figured it would look weird if I stayed away any longer, under the circumstances. Especially since I thought you were going to, y'know, fix this." He tries to gesture between them as subtly as possible, briefly checking to make sure no nurses are wandering by, but he still gets those wide, surprised eyes. "I notice that everyone still thinks we're dating. If anything it feels like you kind of doubled down, man."

Eddie eyeballs him over the spoon now stuck in his mouth, chocolate smeared on the curved white plastic. He drags it free and swallows.

"You think I didn't try and fix it? Dustin spent an hour in here yesterday giving me the talk about how I didn't need to pine your two day absence because before that you'd been here every day and you went above and beyond to save me and clearly this was a sign that your big stupid feelings for me weren't just going to go away now I was awake." The spoon ends up pointed at Steve when he sighs and drags a hand down his face. "Not to mention, how am I supposed to play the 'spur of the moment, it was adrenaline from all the fighting and running for our lives, no big deal,' card when you apparently have us moving in together after I get out of here?"

"Oh my god." Steve pinches between his eyebrows. "I told him you weren't moving in. I offered my place while you're recovering, that's it."

"Even Mike -" Eddie stops as if those two words are enough to explain everything, before deciding he can't leave it at that. "Even Mike is on team whatever-this-is, how the fuck did you manage that?"

Steve shakes his head in bewilderment, because he's had the same thought. He has no idea what's even going on there.

"The fact that Mike is ok with this disturbs me as much as you, it really does," he admits. "Mike fights me just to be contrary, and he loves giving me shit. This is the perfect opportunity to give me shit. But instead he's wandering around looking like he's sucking a lemon and being aggressively supportive, between the insults and the whining."

"I don't know, maybe it's just the fact that he's slightly less miserable over the fact we're dating - or pretend dating - than if you got back together with Nancy, honestly," Eddie says. "He weighed up his options and now he's following the path of least resistance."

"No, it's because he likes you more than he likes me." Steve finds that more irritating than he's happy admitting to. It's not as if he even really wants Mike to like him. But it would be nice if it was an option, is all he's saying. He's loyal and he's persistent and he's stubborn, even if he is an asshole.

"He respects you more than he respects me," Eddie offers, like it's a consolation prize. It's also absolutely a lie.

"I do not believe that." Steve finally lets himself fall into a chair, tennis shoes stretched out on the squeaky floor.

"Believe it or not, but I know damn well which one of us he'd come crying to if he really needed help, not just teenage bullshit but an actual problem. It's you every time, Harrington. These kids have a crazy amount of belief in you being able to fix things."

"A belief which is woefully misguided, which you'd know if you'd seen me repeatedly getting my ass kicked." Though he's not sure how Eddie could have missed that, there's nothing like showing up at school looking beat to absolute hell to get everyone talking.

"Yeah? Well, I'll tell you this, the fact that you've all apparently been through this before, like it's a fucking bi-annual carnival of horrors for you, and made it out the other side says otherwise."

"They mentioned the girl with superpowers, right?" Steve points out. "She's mostly the reason we make it out."

Eddie pauses halfway through digging the last of the chocolate out of his cup.

"Yeah, I met her yesterday, she's sweet and also kind of terrifying. Puts your average shitty childhood problems into perspective doesn't it?"

Steve nods and neither of them say anything for a moment. He kind of gets the impression that Eddie's wondering exactly how much he'd taken on this year without realizing it. Steve knows the feeling, he gets it every single time.

"Robin also came to visit me," Eddie says at last.

Steve nods. "Yeah, she said she came up to visit you with Nancy." He'd originally meant to come with them but had decided to give Eddie some space instead.

Eddie winces at Nancy's name, which probably doesn't bode well. But if anything had happened then surely Robin would have told him?

"She had comments by the way, which, if Nancy references, I had nothing to do with and have no knowledge of."

Steve doesn't like the sound of that at all.

"Robin's enjoying this way more than you realize." Eddie eyes him from under his hair, mouth turned down like he's worried he's giving bad news.

"Oh, I realize." Steve thinks that maybe they're going to have words about it later. Because Robin can't just help him through a crisis with one hand while enjoying the fallout and throwing kindling on the fire with the other.

"I honestly thought Nancy was going to be pissed at me for stealing her man or something, or maybe give me the shovel talk at the very least, but she's been weirdly nice about everything." Eddie looks pained, as if he has no idea what to do about that. "She said she was happy for us both, told me to get you to take care of yourself more. Steve, I don't think you understand what I went through yesterday. Nancy Wheeler brought me a magazine and grapes, she fixed my pillows, and she's going to work on getting me graduated without ever having to go back. So, yeah, I have no idea what's happening. I genuinely worried that I'd actually died in the upside-down and all of this was just the last desperate sputtering of my dying brain." He gestures around the hospital room and then where Steve is lounging in the chair. Steve seems to be the most important evidence for some reason - ok, maybe he gets the reason.

"I'm the one getting the shovel talk later, aren't I?" Steve says, in a moment of horrible realization.

"Maybe? Probably?" Eddie shrugs as much as he can, which turns out to not be a lot, and he holds himself very still afterwards, groaning quiet regret. "I'm claiming hospital privileges, but let me know how that turns out for you. Also take care of yourself more, because I'm a man of my word, self-care is important, hydrate and shit."

"Shut up." Steve has no idea why he's smiling, this is so unfair and so stupid. "Dude, what happened? I had absolute faith that you'd be able to fix this."

Eddie actually looks annoyed as he sets down the spoon and the empty cup.

"I'm sorry, but you get that I was unconscious for a week right? I have a shitload of stitches, somewhere between fifty and a hundred. I have at least one skin graft. I am on three different types of medication right now just so I don't feel like my insides are trying to escape. I feel like I can't really be held responsible for not knowing what to do with the fact that everyone I know not only apparently knows about me liking guys now, but is also being super nice about the fact that I have a boyfriend. Which is an entirely new thing for me so, yeah, maybe I'm taking a fucking minute."

And that's all it takes for Steve to feel like the worst person in the entire world.

"Shit, Eddie, I'm sorry -"

"It doesn't matter," Eddie says with a dismissive gesture. "Though your fake-boyfriend condolences on my tragic life are appreciated." It's probably supposed to be a joke but it fails to land entirely, mostly because he sounds genuinely miserable and Steve can't help wincing.

"Eddie, I really am sorry. You're right, it was incredibly shitty of me to expect you to fix this after everything you've been through. I got carried away putting it on you. I just felt like I'd been making a mess of it, and you are so much smarter than me, you're just better at this kind of stuff than me. The making up stuff on the fly, thinking your way through a problem and planning out what to do, not the, y'know, accidentally ending up with a fake boyfriend while you're recovering from life-threatening injuries part."

There's a laugh that's a little strained, then a sharp noise of discomfort, as if maybe the laugh was a poor choice. Steve is starting to think he just sucks at visiting people in hospital.

"I mean, you get points for giving me something else to think about other than the alternate dimension and its various horrors that tried to kill me, I guess." Eddie takes in whatever Steve's eyebrows are doing, which, judging by the way it feels, is probably some sort of pained scrunch. He lets out another short laugh, this one more careful. "Though, by the way, I have been hedging around the fact that I know literally nothing about you when people ask."

It's a fair point, and one that Steve hadn't really had time to think about. He'd seen Eddie at school but never paid much attention to him, and everything he knows about him now is because he's been around his friends and his uncle for the last week and a half.

Eddie looks like he wants to shift on the bed, but he doesn't have the space or the strength yet, settles for slowly pulling one of his legs up. Steve's chair is close enough that he could reach out but Eddie's posture is stiff, and he's not sure if that's pain or something this conversation had brought on.

"You understand that no one knew about me, right?" Eddie's hands fidget on the blankets and it's clear he's missing the spoon just for something to hold. Steve doesn't have to ask what he means, he's following the conversation well enough. "I mean, Wayne knew, obviously, he's much sharper than he looks even if he'd never admit it and he has to live with me. And, shit, there were rumors about me, obviously, because aren't there always? But no one knew, I've never actually told anyone, and now suddenly everyone knows. Which I have had literal nightmares about in the past, I feel like I should point that out to you. It's funny how almost dying in a hell dimension and being eaten by monsters really put that into perspective. I mean, fuck, it helps that I'm never going back to school. In fact I would have been a lot happier hearing the tragic news that the whole building and all its records got sucked into said hell dimension for good."

Steve has to admit, he's kind of surprised that the school survived as well. It feels as if a lot of shit had happened there in the last few years.

"But then you accidentally outed us to literally everyone we know. Only not really, because only one of us is actually -" Eddie rubs both hands over his face, Steve can hear him swearing somewhere under there and it's clear he's beating himself up over something, which doesn't seem fair. It's not long before Eddie realizes he doesn't have the energy to keep his arms raised and lets them fall, and Steve kind of hates that too. "Only one of us is actually gay," he finishes. The word comes out quiet and a little cracked. "So, yeah, I'm sorry but I've made an executive decision that I'm not going to think about it for a bit. You can suffer a while longer and then we can break up later, I don't have the mental energy right now. But what I do have is pudding cups, so that's my priority for the moment."

"I'm sorry," Steve says again and he can feel it, right in the chest. "Really. I didn't mean for it to happen, and I'll fix it, anything you need me to do. You just have to tell me how, and when."

"You brought me pudding cups, so I am willing to extend the hand of friendship," Eddie decides. "Over that, and because I'm probably going to end up in your house while I work on walking, lifting my arms and having stomach muscles again. Which sounds like a fantastic time. So I kind of really don't want to pick a fight with you. Also, I hope you know how to change bandages."

"I've been in this since '83," Steve says and manages to sound exactly as tired as he feels. "I know how to change bandages."

Eddie's expression for a second is strangely genuine and raw, as if he can't even imagine going through this not once but every year since '83 - and doesn't want to.

"Jesus, Steve, a lot of things about you are actually starting to make more sense. And I'm sorry too, I guess, for everything you've been dealing with, that fucking sucks."

That's surprisingly nice to hear, that confirmation that everything he's been dealing with is really not ok.

"I mean it though, man, you're welcome to stay with me, no matter how many stupid jokes the kids make. I don't think my folks are coming back anytime soon and I have a room on the first floor so you won't have to climb the stairs. Everyone will be able to reach you, I can pick up your meds and anything you want to eat, unlimited pudding cups, at least until your doctor wrestles them out of your hands."

Eddie's smiling now at least, which feels like a victory.

"Are you trying to bribe me into saying yes?"

Steve squints at him.

"Is it working?"

"I think I technically said yes already, so these are more payment for deigning to be your illustrious houseguest, or incentives, or maybe bonuses? What do I get if I do a good job healing?"

"You get to not have supernatural rabies, I think," Steve says, which he can tell is a disappointment.

"Ugh, barely worth it. I'll tell my body it can slack off." Eddie waves a hand. "Show me the books you brought me."

Steve drags the pile into his lap, reading the backs and holding them up so Eddie can see, then handing over the ones he seems interested in.

"Dustin gave me a list, so if any of them suck you can blame him, please blame him, he's been giving me so much shit lately." It's not even a little bit true. If the kids are any nicer to him he's going to do something he regrets. Which will not be cry, no matter what Robin says. "Fully expecting him to try pitting us against each other."

"You say that like he doesn't do that already," Eddie points out.

"I hate that he does that already." Steve just knows it's going to get worse if they keep this up. He reaches out to help with the stack Eddie is making on the bed when it's obvious he's having trouble doing it himself.

"But next time I definitely want to see what you'd pick out for me."

"No, you don't, I don't really read, since books usually gives me migraines, so I'd be judging by the covers alone."

Far from looking disappointed Eddie looks thrilled instead.

"Steve, Steve, that's sometimes one of the best ways to choose a book. You have to do that for me now, I insist on it. See what you turn up with."

"Well, maybe you better do a good job healing then?" Steve eyes him over cover art of a man standing on a pile of corpses, barely wearing his furred pants. "So you can enjoy classics such as 'Conan fails medical school.'"

Steve has to lean forward briefly to support Eddie while he laughs and calls him an asshole and laughs again, face pinched, eyes bright enough to glitter. It's really hard to feel guilty when he's smiling so wide.

"Trying to kill me five days out of a coma, I don't believe you." Eddie's strained laughter finally tapers off and he lets his head fall back into the pillows, hair spread around him. From this angle Steve can see the fading bruises on his neck, the way they spill darker the closer they get to the messy tear that's still stitched on the left side. It's a sudden reminder of how much damage is hiding under the bandages, how much they're all papering over the cracks and pretending to be fine.

Steve realizes that he wants Eddie to be fine. He's one of theirs now and he wants Eddie to be fine, and maybe he also wants to be a part of that process.

-

It still takes another five days, and a few sessions where his stitches are carefully removed, before a stern-faced doctor brings out the paperwork to discharge Eddie. Medical bills paid courtesy of the government, which, as far as Steve is concerned, is the absolute least they could do.

Wayne's sleeping and the kids are at school so it's up to Steve and Robin to get him home.

He'd hoped that the number of bandages would decrease when the stitches came out, but if anything on the morning of his departure they wrap Eddie up like he's going to war. Or, more likely, as if they don't trust him not to do something reckless the minute he's given his freedom.

If Steve's being honest he's kind of terrified of that too. For all that he's taken care of his own injuries over the years, Eddie is all but helpless right now. He's only been on his feet for short walks around his room, he still has more healing wounds than Steve's ever seen.

It turns out he barely owned any casual clothes so he's wearing one of his own band shirts and a pair of Steve's sweats when they command him into a wheelchair to navigate the many busy halls of the hospital. He clearly hates it and makes a slow but determined break for freedom the minute they reach the doors. Steve ends up taking most of his weight, feeling the slow hiss of pressure into the bend of his neck when he discovers that standing three times in quick succession is tougher than it looks. Steve's holding what he hopes - though worries are very much not - uninjured parts of him. Robin's forced to hover next to them, waving her arms in a mild panic. She can't do much else because she's holding a backpack, three books and a clear plastic bag full of medication and gauze. She calls them both idiots, breathing like she's having a heart attack.

Eddie's laughing his way through a pained whine that's brought tears to his eyes, but he's gripping him back so it's probably ok. God, Steve hopes it's ok.

He'd parked as close as he could, but it still involves walking a short distance and no one knows where Eddie's shoes got to - Wayne definitely brought them to the hospital. But that's a mystery that Steve is going to choose to just let go of. Being a responsible adult always looks so much easier from the outside. He'll buy him new shoes, he doesn't care.

They manage to get Eddie into the passenger seat while Robin all but falls into the back, rattling and rustling and complaining that this is how people end up back in the hospital with new stitches and open wounds and infections. Eddie can't resist urging her on while Steve starts the car, so he has to listen to them talking about necrosis and inflamed wounds and gland leakage all the way to his house. Which feels less helpful and more an attempt to horrify each other.

It's a very stressful drive.

Robin's the one who gets the house keys tossed to her while he helps Eddie turn in the seat. Steve knows this is going to be the longest walk Eddie's been on so far, so he leans against the slowly cooling metal until he's ready to get up again.

"My socks are dirty," Eddie points out when he looks down, amused in a way that sounds tired and breathless already.

"Yeah? Whose fault is that?"

He looks up at Steve through his hair, smiling in a way that's clearly trying to hide how much the trip's exhausted him.

"I mean, I feel as if the blame lies entirely with the people who lost my shoes, obviously."

Steve crouches by the car, takes hold of the back of Eddie's ankle.

"What size are you, an eight?" He's stalling so Eddie can get his breath back, but Steve thinks he's probably smart enough to know it.

"Yeah."

"You want some shoes? I can go and get you some, I'm only one size up."

Eddie pulls a face, shakes his head, gently pulls his foot out of Steve's grip and sets it down on the ground.

"Screw it, the socks are done for anyway." He goes to put a hand on the edge of the door to straight up, before realising that upper body strength is a no-go right now, since his arms are attached to his chest and his chest is attached to his stomach, both of which are kind of currently fucked. He wavers for a bit, looks like he's considering setting his hands on the seat and trying to push himself up anyway.

Steve reaches out before he can do something stupid, hands careful on the part of his waist that's more or less bandage free. Eddie's hot under his shirt, probably hotter than he should be. He's sweating a little too.

"You good?"

"Uh huh," Eddie says, it's a fast agreement but he sounds like he's hurting. Though he's clearly not willing to stay here all day and he gestures for Steve to help him up, which he does. And every moment of it is clearly miserable for him.

Steve holds him upright for a long minute, Eddie's breathing hard and mostly leant into his body, bandages thick between them, the dig of fingers into his elbows more desperate than steadying. Every exhale is hot on Steve's neck as Eddie grumbles quiet complaint and urges himself to move. Though a second later, Steve does feel him lift a hand and wave somewhere around his shoulder, so he suspects Robin came back to the door to check where they were. Steve's pretty sure there'll be water and pills and pillows in exactly the right place when they get inside.

It's a slow process once they do start moving, and Eddie's fingers are dug hard into the side of his waist as they take the curb, and the front path, and then the long entryway of the house.

"You want to sleep or you want to eat first?" Steve asks when they stop by the stairs.

"Yes," Eddie says simply and it sounds thready.

Steve can work with that.

The room he's in is at the back of the house, and it's been made up for a few days now. It also has a small adjoining bathroom which he hopes isn't too far from the bed. It's a relief to watch Eddie sink down onto it, pillows already stacked up at the head with a determination to provide as much padding as possible. Robin is holding two spares and looks about ready to shove them into any gaps. Which he kind of loves her for.

"How is it?" Steve asks.

Eddie makes an agreeable noise, even if it does fade a little at the end. He takes that to mean it's good enough, and Steve carefully sprawls out next to him.

"Ok, pills, food and sleep, in that order." Robin shakes the medication she's holding and a bottle of water.

"I'd do what she says, it's easier that way," Steve tells him.

Eddie surprises him by sighing and doing what he's told, Steve decides to enjoy it while it lasts.

-

There's a quiet but determined knock at Steve's door a few hours later, and he probably would have known it was Nancy even if he hadn't been expecting her. He sets the TV remote down on Robin's lap and pushes to his feet before a second knock can risk waking his new houseguest.

Nancy's standing on the step, the late sun turning her hair bronze, a bag held in both her hands.

"Hey." She smiles up at him.

Steve waves her in, taking the bag from her.

"I have a few changes of clothes for Eddie, the least complicated ones Wayne could find for someone who can't really raise their arms, some of Eddie's tapes and his shoes, which apparently Lucas found at the hospital. They were in that little cupboard by the bed."

Of course they were.

"Wayne had to go to work, but he says he'll drop some more stuff off tomorrow before he heads back to the trailer."

Steve nods, the trailer they're in now is not too far from the old one. He'd passed it a few times but never been inside, though the layout is supposed to be the same.

"Yeah, of course, I told him he was welcome here any time. Did you want a drink, Nance?"

She waves him off.

"No, thank you, I just stopped by to drop these off and make sure everything was ok. How is he?" The question is soft, a weight of genuine concern in her voice.

"He's good, he's sleeping, he's been sleeping since we brought him back here. I was going to feed him but he kind of took that decision out of my hands."

She smiles again and it's easy and relieved. Of all the people that Steve could have imagined building a friendship, Nancy and Eddie would never have occurred to him in a million years. But the same thing happened to him, he knows how close you can get to someone in no time at all - provided there was some sort of world-threatening monster to contend with at the same time.

"It can't be easy to be out of the hospital after so long," Nancy says gently. "For all that the atmosphere can be unpleasant, being there and having that safety net if anything happens. And the last time Eddie was in town, it wasn't exactly welcoming to him."

"I told him about the story you wrote," Steve says, because Nancy deserves to know. "That you supported him."

She looks surprised for a second, before nodding sharply.

"Of course I did, honestly it was the least I could do, after everything."

"I know he appreciated it. He kind of didn't believe it to start with, but he appreciated it."

Her expression drifts through surprise and settles on something warm, something pleased. It had always been Steve's favourite expression on her face.

"It wasn't a hard decision to make. The idea that the government would just let him come back to face that, when he'd done nothing wrong. No one deserves that - and now I know him better, well, I know for sure that he doesn't."

"No, and I don't think any of us would have let that happen, upside-down secrets be damned."

Nancy tilts her head at him and he knows she's accusing him of being reckless again.

"Which is exactly why I had to write the story, before you or one of the kids, did something stupid." There's no question that they wouldn't have done something stupid and Steve can't help smiling at that. Nancy has always been determined to get ahead of a problem.

"How many shadowy government agents had to sign off on it?" Steve wonders.

"He was less shadowy and more tired. But he did provide corroborating evidence and three alibis, so I was less inclined to be snappish."

Steve raises a doubtful eyebrow at her and she has the grace to look briefly embarrassed.

"I was a little snappish," she admits, the confession coming out on the end of a laugh. "But Eddie's in the right place. If anyone's going to take care of him it will be you -"

"What?" Steve knows he sounds confused, there's so much softness in the words, but so much certainty too, and he doesn't really understand.

Nancy looks at him for a second, smiling at something that she clearly knows and he doesn't.

"I just mean that you're really good at looking after the people you care about, even when they're obstinate and headstrong and prone to moments of reckless civil disobedience."

Steve tries to fight the smile because that's a pretty good description of Eddie. It takes him a second watching Nancy's amused face before he realizes that it's not that far away from describing her too - and maybe that had been what she meant all along.

"So, I hope he appreciates it."

Ok, apparently not. Honestly, this is really confusing. Steve doesn't know what to say, but whatever he doesn't say makes her lean in and squeeze his arm.

"I know you've been running yourself ragged while he was in the hospital. Please know you can rely on me and Jonathan if you need to. We're just a phone call away."

"Thanks, Nance."

There's something oddly intense about the offer and it takes Steve a second to understand that she's trying to be supportive. She's trying, with a fierce sort of determination, to be his friend - something that they'd both kind of messed up, when they were dating and when they weren't. From her point of view, this is Steve's first proper relationship since her. Which very quickly makes this awkward enough to be weird. Because he'd almost forgotten - he'd almost forgotten that she thought him and Eddie were a thing, and if anything she now looks more convinced than ever.

"Oh, I should get home." Nancy leans into the living room and raises her voice. "Robin, do you want me to drop you off at home?"

Robin twists over the back of the couch.

"Oh, yeah, I could get a ride with you, thanks. Let me get my shoes so Steve can get his beauty sleep."

"I have a houseguest," Steve protests.

"Even more reason for you to need your beauty sleep," Nancy says, and the smile she sends him is suggestive and completely uncalled for, Jesus.

"Ok, enough insulting me in my own home, both of you. Thank you, Nancy, I appreciate it. Robin, I'll see you tomorrow?"

Robin salutes and they both head out, leaving Steve leant against the back of the front door.

He can't remember the last time it felt that easy to talk to Nancy. Which he thinks is a good thing. Or maybe it's the end of something.

Perhaps it's both?

Chapter Text

Steve is half expecting to be run off his feet but Eddie sleeps for most of the first day in his guest room, and then on and off for the second. He tries not to disturb him, drifting quietly through the rooms, fielding calls from half the people they know, making food to stock in the fridge, things that are easy to eat cold or heat up when needed. Whenever Eddie is awake he's restless and irritable, grumbling every time Steve attempts to make him more comfortable, or change his bandages, or coax him into taking a round of pills and getting some water and food into him. Robin points out that he'd done more exercise than he had in two weeks just to get here. It was the first real test for all his barely healed wounds and skin grafts and, to be honest, his probably fairly crappy immune system.

Robin's been telling him not to worry about the fact that Eddie seems significantly more miserable, or to take it personally, but that's harder than it sounds. Steve had already put the kids off twice because it's clear Eddie's not up to company yet, and he's starting to feel like the bad guy.

"You're not," Robin reassures him, toes digging under his thigh across the sofa. "The hospital is a shitty environment to heal in, let's be honest. It's busy, it's bright, it's loud, there are sick people everywhere, you're hurting, and you constantly feel like you're on display with the doctors coming around and asking you how you're feeling, doing tests on you, kicking out the people who actually care about you because visiting hours are over. And don't forget, Eddie went through at least three traumatic experiences even before he woke up there. Hell, we both know that he didn't expect to wake up at all. As much of a relief as that was, maybe we shouldn't be entirely surprised if he'd just been waiting to let it all properly hit him?"

Steve gets that, he does, but it doesn't change the fact that he's feeling pretty terrible about the fact that he's trying his best here and it doesn't seem to be helping.

"So, what, he comes to my house and finally relaxes enough to be miserable?" Honestly, it feels like Munson doesn't even want to be here.

"Maybe he comes to your house and finally feels safe enough to be miserable," Robin says slowly. "Did you consider that?"

That does a fantastic job of knocking all the air out of Steve in one go, and he immediately feels like an asshole, because if Robin's right - damn it, she's probably right. He drags his hands over his face, groaning into them because maybe he had spent too much time whining and not enough time thinking about how tough this is for Eddie.

"You're right, I'm being an asshole making this all about my feelings."

"Don't beat yourself up so much, that's probably very normal of you," Robin argues. "Considering what we all went through; and don't forget, he's also lost access to all those sweet intravenous drugs, which he's probably feeling right about now. So, I say again, don't beat yourself up about it, because I'm perfectly willing to do that for you when you do deserve it. You know that healing wounds can be the worst, the absolute worst and he has a whole lot of them."

Steve does, he does know that, but for all that he'd felt every bit of his own at the time, he'd never been hurt as bad as Eddie was in the upside-down. He'd never gotten the hospital-grade drugs to take the edge off, so never had to miss them after. There was pretty much only ever Tylenol and time for him. It's not as if he'd been completely reckless about his own wounds, and he'd stopped ignoring them after Robin had gone on a lengthy, panicked rant about dirty bandages. Admittedly, by then it had probably been too late anyway, but he'd come out of it mostly whole. He'd kept all his nipples at least, which is something he never thought he'd ever have to be grateful for.

Claudia brings over a casserole and an apple pie, with a quiet insistence to make sure they were all fed. And when she says all Steve knows she means all of them. He knows she feels guilty about how everything went down, or at least the cover story version of it. How much she knows is still up for debate, Steve's not entirely sure what Dustin had told her, if anything, about what happened. But he gets the feeling she knows something. He can't feel too bad about that, he imagines it's really hard to take care of the people you love when you have no idea what's really going on. Also, he supposes if your parents actually give a shit about you then they're going to ask questions.

They eat in the living room, the TV on low, no sound from the back of the house, though Steve's listening for it. He'd expressly told Eddie to call him if he needed help getting anywhere or doing anything. Though he seems to be ok making short trips to the bathroom on his own, even if Steve does have a bit of an internal panic going on about the way he keeps gently slide-walking across the floor in his socks. If he has to take Eddie back to hospital because he cracks his head open on the tiles he's going to feel guilty for the rest of his life.

"He's probably asleep," Robin reassures him, because part of her brain lives inside his brain, or can at least see some of the workings in there, gross as that sounds.

"He's been sleeping a lot today, maybe we should have offered him something to eat?"

"You left him a sandwich, and he'll eat it if he gets hungry, grumpy or not," Robin says without needing to see his expression. She's breaking her pie into equally sized pieces. "And there are leftovers if he's hungry later, by which I mean your tupperware fortress in there, of course. It's not like you're going to be asleep when he's inevitably awake sometime between two and four in the morning. Which, as we both know, is prime wake-up-screaming hours for team upside-down."

"Please don't call us that, it makes us sound like a cheerleading squad."

Robin makes a noise of complaint at his lack of enthusiasm for that.

"Not to mention it's always when the good drugs wear off. Not that I have personal experience, that's just what people say, or maybe what the movies say, which we both know are not to be trusted." She shoves pie in her mouth and thinks about it while she chews.

Steve's not sure if that's when the good drugs wear off or when the combination of pain and nightmares leaves any hope of getting a good night's sleep in the dust. But he doesn't really want to say that, even if she probably already knows.

Robin moves around what's left on her plate, making a little sound of appreciation when a piece of pie crust breaks, only to stop and point her fork at him with an aggression that he doesn't think he deserves.

"And I will remind you again, you're not supposed to be using the fact that you're looking after Eddie as an excuse to crush down your own problems or needs, what did we say?"

"I'm not crushing down my own problems." Steve crosses his arms in protest.

"How many tupperware containers are in the fridge right now?"

"I was making enough for everyone."

"Liar. You were stress cooking at four in the morning again." She doesn't say anything else, just stares a gentle sort of judgment at him. Steve's pretty sure if she pushed he'd cave, but for some reason she doesn't. "How's he doing at night anyway?"

"He hasn't said anything about nightmares yet." Steve's been looking for it, but he doesn't want Eddie to feel forced to tell him anything. "And I haven't heard anything that sounds suspicious. I figured his body was getting the physical trauma sewn up before it brought out the nightly reruns of the 'all my friends dying in gruesome ways,' show." He notices that they're both naturally assuming that there will be nightmares eventually. He's not sure that anyone in their group has escaped them at this point. He doesn't know whether that's a sign that all of them have been through shit that there's no working through during the day, or because Vecna had powers to get inside your head and some of that sort of...spilled. He really hopes it's the former, which, though it's admittedly fucked up, feels more comforting.

"You think he'll talk about them with you?" Robin asks, not unkindly, she sounds genuinely curious.

The kind of nightmares they tend to have aren't exactly easy to hide, and sometimes the panic when you wake up is worse. When you find yourself in a dark room with your heart beating itself raw and for a second you don't remember that everything's over. You can't quite put together the belief that it's finished, it's over for good, that your friends and family are all here, they're all alive. They all made it. Those nights are the worst, in Steve's opinion.

But he shrugs, because Eddie's still kind of a mystery to him.

"I don't know. He doesn't actually know or trust me yet, does he? At least not enough to unpack horribly traumatic memories with me. I'm just Steve Harrington still, which we both know comes with a lot of baggage." He's not sure if Eddie even likes him at the minute. He kind of thought they'd bonded a little bit in the hospital, but maybe Robin's right. Maybe his house is currently a safe space to be in pain, and fucking miserable, because Eddie doesn't care about Steve, or what he thinks.

"Stop moping, I can see you moping."

Instead of denying it, he leans into it, because it's Robin.

"Let me mope in peace."

"Never."

"I don't know, the best I can do is keep the lights on, feed him, try to be around for him if he needs or wants company."

"It might help - or at least it's helped for me - that all our horrors come from the same place. If nothing else you can sit together and stay awake and pretend that neither of you are having nightmares, just bros hanging out at three in the morning." Robin never lets him pretend, and he tries to say as much with just his eyes. "You're right though, you're not really there with him yet. And pretending is kind of your thing right now. You're not at the sharing nightmares stage yet. You're still in the awkward friendship honeymoon - which I guess you've also kind of made an actual honeymoon."

"Could you please not." Steve reaches over with the can of whipped cream he'd left between the cushions and decorates her scattered apple pie pieces when she gestures. "We're gonna fix that. We're just waiting until he's on his feet again, or at least not mostly sleeping through the day." He thinks that Eddie is appreciating being left alone right now, and he's not going to take that away from him.

"You know the kids are going to come over the moment you give them the ok, probably before then if we're being honest. They'll be pressing their sticky faces to your windows demanding to see you both." Robin takes a break to eat another piece. "What am I even saying, you'll probably find some on a street corner and end up bringing them here yourself. You can never resist an urchin."

"I can resist," Steve protests. "I'm not that easy."

"Lies. You're absolutely that easy for your little ducklings." She steals the cream and adds far too much, muttering 'stingy' under her breath. She's probably going to regret the dairy later but he's not her mom. "And you know they're going to be nosy about everything. Some of them are going to be more than nosy about it. Questions you don't want to answer. Questions Eddie doesn't want to answer and shouldn't have to. I'm just saying, it would make your life a lot easier if you cut the ring off and explained it away as some amicable breakup. Eddie said you could. He said he wouldn't care."

"I know," Steve says, and he does, he knows that it's probably the easiest solution. He's not good at faking stuff, he's not good at pretending. He sets a thumb to the ring and slowly turns it. It feels snug but he's mostly got used to it being there. "I'll find some pliers or something in the morning."

-

After taking her home, Steve manages a few hours of sleep half-sprawled on the sofa, cushions somewhere on the floor. The remote's missing, he figures it's probably under one of said cushions, either that or under the sofa again.

He spends most of the night cleaning the house, putting things away, staring into the dark spaces with a vague sense of unease, though he worries that last one is more a part of his routine now than a genuine fear of anything being there. He sort of hates the idea of that being a habit he picked up without realizing, something he has to do to feel safe. Just a normal nineteen-year-old, looking for interdimensional monsters in the dark.

Eddie is awake at two in the morning, as predicted, though probably more because he'd slept most of the day already than anything disturbing his sleep. He's sitting up in bed, looking tired and uncomfortable, but eating the slice of apple pie that Steve brought him. He's packing it in fast enough that there's a chance he's going to regret that later. Steve hopes not, because he's pretty sure throwing up will be an exercise in misery for him right now.

Steve hovers, not sure if Eddie actually wants him to stay, but he gets a sheepish expression over the edge of the bowl.

"Hey man, I'm sorry about being so much of an asshole since you let me come here. The change of scenery apparently did not do me a world of good." Eddie slowly pulls a leg up and gestures towards the end of the bed.

Steve sinks down onto it, the fresh bottle of water and glass he's holding set down on the nightstand where Eddie could reach it if he needed to.

"Don't worry about it. After what you went through, I think you're owed some time to not feel like company and to be a dick if you want to be. Not to mention you're still on some pretty heavy-duty drugs by the look of it."

Eddie agrees with his eyebrows, as if he's perfectly aware of what he's on. Though, thinking about it, Steve has to wonder if he's built up some sort of tolerance to this stuff, he doesn't know what the hell Eddie takes recreationally, other than weed? He can't personally imagine he'd ever had the need for pain medication or antibiotics or whatever. The pamphlet in the box hadn't really been helpful. He'd mostly just been checking them for the 'don't mix with alcohol' and 'take with food' sections.

"I'm just glad you're here, both here in a general sense after everything and that you decided to stay. The house is empty a lot so the space is just going to waste most of the time."

"Aw, you really know how to make a guy feel wanted." Eddie smiles around a mouthful of apple and pastry but Steve refuses to rise to that look.

"Anything you want to do tomorrow?" He glances at the clock, which reminds him that it's technically tomorrow already, but he feels as if it shouldn't count until you've had a proper sleep. He also realizes that due to his insomnia he's advocating for the day to basically never end, but he never said he made good decisions. "Though it might have to wait until the afternoon, since I'm pretty sure the kids won't be put off any longer."

Eddie tips his head in acknowledgement, but doesn't seem upset about it. Steve thinks he wants to see them as much as they want to see him.

"Shower," he says firmly, stabbing the fork downwards. "I could definitely use a shower."

"Ok, we'll make it work," Steve promises. "Even if you are still fifty percent bandages, and I remember that you have stuff under there which you're under strict instructions not to get wet. I know because I was there when they told you."

"I'm a creative guy," Eddie says with a grin, and Steve has no doubt that he would flaunt medical advice just to test him. "But, no, it's really just the wound on my jaw I have to keep taped up and moisture free for a while. The rest of me was pronounced water-resistant."

Steve can't help raising a dubious eyebrow at the phrase.

"Well you're gonna wash off all the antibacterial stuff that you're pretty much basted with right now, that's not water-resistant." Because even though the stitches are out, Eddie's worst injuries are still leaking a little as he heals. Steve kind of hates how his bandages are never clean, that so much of him is still raw, scabbed and hot where the skin can't stop trying to protect itself. It makes him feel...not fragile exactly, but every time Steve unwraps him he's reminded how much damage he took. He always kind of wishes he could put more on him than the cream and the padding and the bandages. He just wishes Eddie was healing faster.

"So I'll put it back on again, they left me two tubes." Eddie gestures with the fork, scattering tiny flecks of pastry across the bed, to where there is indeed one full tube and a gently squeezed one, also a box of gauze, medical tape, four pill bottles and two pill boxes, on the nightstand.

Steve wants to point out that he's the one who's been making sure the stuff gets smeared into thick scabs, scar tissue and healing skin, since Eddie can't currently bend well enough to reach half of the parts that need creaming, but he doesn't want to make him feel shitty. Especially since it involves a lot of Eddie awkwardly staring at a wall and talking too fast about the monsters he's going to throw at the kids next campaign, while Steve gently rubs it in. But he gets it, it must be really fucking weird to have the guy who was a dick to you in high school creaming up your chest. Also he really needs to stop saying 'creaming' in his head because that's not a sensible word you can use under any normal circumstances, and definitely not out loud.

"How about we wash the worst of you in the morning and then I put the stuff back on?"

"What constitutes the worst of me?" Eddie wonders, as if they're negotiating.

"Hair, neck, armpits, crotch," Steve offers instantly, he knows how to scrub up quickly and efficiently, he'd played sports for years. Getting up at five in the morning, or getting in at eleven at night, and needing to feel less like a swamp before bed/school had been kind of important.

"Yeah, one of those I'm definitely doing myself," Eddie says with a nod, "because fake boyfriends do not get sexy privileges."

Steve really wants to hit him with a pillow, delicate convalescence or not.

"Fine, I'll turn around to preserve your modesty while you attempt to wash your balls, but if you fall over doing it then you gotta take that humiliation on the chin."

Eddie laughs and hands him the empty bowl and fork. After the first moment of enthusiasm he looks tired and more than ready to be done, but at least he's eating. There's pastry in his hair and Steve hesitates for a second before reaching over and pulling it out.

"Leftovers go in the fridge, Munson."

Eddie blinks at him from far too close, his second laugh a little thinner.

"Hey, if you'd been on hospital food for a week you'd be squirreling it away too."

Steve probably should have been in hospital for some of the shit he's been through. But the people who were supposed to take him had never been here, and there were usually a lot of important and very distracting things going on at the same time. The fact that he hadn't wanted to go, and hadn't tried, was probably a far larger reason, to be honest. It was pretty easy to get lost in the aftermath, a few of his friends had worried enough to ask, but they'd never pushed.

Eddie's trying to turn so he can get to the bag of books on the other nightstand - which is going to end poorly - so Steve leans over to get them for him, hefting the bag and letting it fall on the bed with a thump.

"Jesus, how many are in here?" Eddie peels the top open to look inside.

"Twelve, I think, Dustin's been replacing them. He's kind of invested in making you the best collection of recovery books possible. He has not been taking questions or corrections."

Eddie snorts and nods.

"Yeah, that sounds like him, and don't forget you owe me a selection chosen by you based on covers alone. Which, you should know, I will be quizzing you on what you think the plot is going to be."

"I see how it is, already making demands of the Harrington Post-Operative Daycare and Spa."

Eddie's hands stop crinkling the bag and he laughs.

"Daycare, seriously?"

"Yeah, not sure what I was going for there, to be honest, names are hard." He steals the bag back because he really doesn't want Eddie to try lifting a ton of books up. He digs in and fishes a handful of them out. All worn spines and painted covers that don't seen to tell you much about what the books are actually about. Steve's genuinely curious how many of them Eddie's read already. Some of them he recognizes from the hospital, from seeing them open in Dustin or Mike or Erica's lap. He even remembers the plot of a few.

"We read you some of these while you were out."

Eddie's eyes widen at him and it occurs to Steve that he's put himself in that category too when he doesn't really belong there.

"The others, not me, obviously. I mean I would have had a go if I thought it would help, but trust me, you don't want me reading to you. I get halfway through the back of a cereal box and Dustin's dragging it away from me and telling me 'that is absolutely not what it says, Steve.' Patronizing little shit." He sets the books down in the space Eddie's made by pulling one leg up. "I've heard you reading out loud, doing all the voices and everything, you'd do a much better job."

"You want me to read to you?" There's a pleased lilt to that, rather than the sarcasm he's expecting.

Steve rolls his eyes.

"I never said you had to read to me, you're the one that's supposed to be resting up."

Eddie flips the book he's holding open, thumbing past the publishing information and the foreword right to chapter one, like it's familiar to him. It kind of makes sense, him and Dustin have probably talked about their favorite books before.

"Steve, please don't think for one second that I would miss an opportunity to show off my famous oratory skills and do stupid voices literally at the drop of a hat."

"Did you just make a sex joke?" Steve asks.

Eddie looks horribly amused, but somehow Steve doesn't feel like he's being mocked.

"No, I mean, at least not that time, any other time, and assuming the absence of children, I am probably making a sex joke. Come on, you signed up to take care of a man healing from grievous body wounds, which means you have to amuse me and I'm currently denied drugs, cigarettes and alcohol so I'm reaching here. Unless you want to provide me with any of those three, in which case, I promise not to tell any of my doctors. Who are buzzkills of the highest order."

"Trying to stop you from keeling over and dying does not constitute a buzzkill."

"They're denying me enrichment, Steve." The face Eddie makes would probably look ridiculous on anyone else.

"Which is fine, because you're not a hamster."

Eddie laughs, slips the book back into the pile and then pats it.

"Come on, pick one for me. I've been asleep all day, I want to read."

Steve sighs and picks the book in the pile that's the shortest and has the least off-putting cover, dumping it as gently as he can in Eddie's lap, while probably still looking like he'd rather be anywhere else.

"Gotta warn you though," he admits. "I'm a tough crowd, I'm probably gonna fall asleep."

"That's allowed with bedtime stories, in fact it's strongly encouraged." Eddie adjusts the pillows so there's enough space for Steve to lean back too, even though he didn't have to and he's probably going to fuck up his chest sitting this upright for too long.

"You're the one that's supposed to be on light duties."

"This is the lightest duty," Eddie argues, clearly enthusiastic about the idea now. "I'm basically doing nothing. Come on, Steve, I thought we were friends, you don't want to join the Ass-Crack Of Dawn Post-Upside-Down Book Club...and Daycare?" He offers the last with a smile that Steve is not going to rise to. Because it's the first time he's actually admitted that they might be friends. So Steve grumbles but swivels around and makes sure he's not knocking any of Eddie's pillows out from behind him.

"I think it needs a new name, but fine, fine, it'll be english class all over again, I can look as if I'm paying attention while you get to do your bedtime fantasy role-play thing."

"Now who's making sex jokes," Eddie mutters. But he's opening the book and finding the beginning while Steve leans back against the headboard, socked feet crossed at the ankles, making sure he doesn't jostle Eddie's bent leg.

He settles while Eddie reads the first few pages. Listening has never really been his strong suit but he's pretty sure that Eddie's going to enjoy it either way. He gives all the characters different voices, and Steve pretends to find it ridiculous but he can actually tell who's who so it must be working. He tips his head back and listens to the pages turn, occasionally muttering something when a character does something stupid, which Eddie doesn't seem to mind.

A few weeks ago he wasn't sure he'd ever get to hear Eddie talk again. Which would have been a fucking shame, he realizes, because he has a really good voice. There's something rhythmic about it, it's soft and deep and it pulls you in, even if Steve is kind of lost about what exactly is going on in the plot.

"You have a really good voice," Steve tells him. "For reading."

Eddie stops, a quiet hum in his throat which Steve takes as doubt that the compliment is genuine, which doesn't feel entirely fair. He pushes a little, because the guy deserves to know that Steve's being honest.

"You do, they were right about you." He should have paid more attention, should have trusted his kids. "You're creative and shit."

God, Steve is so damn tired.

Eddie's still doing the voices, a little more quietly now. The characters have grouped up to explore a cursed castle, or something. Steve's head feels heavy, eyes slipping closed for odd moments, dialogue cutting in and out. Between one blink and the next he realizes that he'd slid down a little, his head now resting on the worn cotton of a borrowed shirt. He stays there for a while, only taking in half the words.

He registers, as if from far away, that the constant low rumble of Eddie's voice is gone, he'd stopped talking, though Steve doesn't remember exactly when.

The book settles in his lap and Steve watches it between slow blinks of his eyes, the way Eddie's long fingers curl on the paper, looking oddly bare. The warm curve of his shoulder is surprisingly comfortable. He'll have to sit up properly in a minute, change Eddie's bandages, make sure he takes his meds, maybe get him another glass of water.

Instead he falls asleep to the sound of Eddie breathing.

-

He wakes to a crick in his neck six hours later, to find that at some point he'd slipped down the bed, one of his hands is pushed under a pillow, his body half lying on Eddie's arm. The man himself is still asleep next to him, the book he'd been reading splayed open on his stomach in a way he's probably going to be annoyed about later. The sun's up enough to have warmed the whole room, light curling in through the edge of the curtains. Eddie looks less wounded this morning, there's a slight flush to his cheeks, the curve of his mouth half open, and the spread of his hair on the pillows looks less dark, flecks of bronze curling through it.

He can't imagine many people have seen Munson like this. Steve thinks maybe he should feel something about how much trust that might have taken.

There are probably a dozen things he needs to be - should be - doing right now, he just needs to get up and do literally any of them. He does it as quietly as possible, though there's still a faint grumbling protest from the other side of the bed, which fades out with a sigh when the mattress resettles without Steve's weight on it. He pauses before he leaves, checking that Eddie's not going to wake. He still looks tired, the edges of his bandages curled and slightly loose, but he seems to be willing to sleep a little longer.

It's only just after nine in the morning. Steve stretches, retrieves the book and sets it on the nightstand, then collects the bowl and the old glass and water bottle and heads for the kitchen.

Robin was right yesterday, it's been long enough and the kids will come round today whether he personally invites them or not, so he might as well make some sandwiches or something, lay out some snacks - and they can be satisfied with what he gives them because he refuses to head out to the store and leave Eddie alone with the horde. It's fine, he has enough food to feed an army here.

It's early enough that he decides he can shower and change before doing anything else. For all that Eddie hasn't been able to properly shower, at least he doesn't still smell like hospitals, that weird, flat, astringent scent that Steve's always hated.

When he comes back downstairs, hair wet, clothes clean, the first thing he does is check on Eddie. He expects to find him still asleep but instead he's frowning at the door. His hair doesn't want to lay flat, bangs crooked on one side and limp on the other. He looks like a moody spaniel.

"Thought I heard something," he says. "Did you call me?"

"No, I was in the shower."

"Huh, must have been dreaming then."

"I was gonna get you some water for your meds. The kids will probably be here before lunchtime, you want to stay in here or you want to be on the couch?"

"Couch," Eddie says instantly. "I've had more than enough visitors while lying in bed, thank you." He raises hopeful eyebrows at Steve. "You think I have time for a shower?"

Steve seriously considers it, because he can see how badly Eddie wants to be clean. But he's pretty sure it's going to be an effort with a capital E and the house is about to get swarmed.

"Do you have the energy to get upstairs for a shower and then to get back downstairs and then spend the day with everyone screaming and promising not to throw themselves on you? A resolution they will break, just so you know."

Eddie looks tired just thinking about it.

"Hell, no, probably not."

"I'm not going to let them throw themselves on you, obviously," Steve says. "Hang on, let me get you -" He heads for the kitchen, filling the water bottle and the glass up at the sink. When he gets back Eddie has already pushed the sheets back and has carefully shuffled himself to the edge of the bed. Steve knows he's been determinedly taking himself to the bathroom but it doesn't mean it's fun to watch. It takes a few seconds just for him to slowly stand, Steve tries very hard not to compare him to a baby deer.

The bandages probably need to be changed if the kids are going to be around all day. But Steve figures if Eddie's having a shower later it's going to wash off any cream he puts on. So he might as well take care of them then. A few more hours won't hurt - a few hours at most, not three days. But honestly caring about other people is much easier than caring about himself.

Steve fishes out a clean shirt and sweats while he listens to water running in the bathroom, tossing them on the end of the bed. Eddie comes back looking sweaty and done in by the trip and he doesn't resist when Steve takes over most of the dressing for him. No one really appreciates their arms until their chest gets fucked up, Steve's had the rib damage to prove it. Eddie swallows the pills Steve hands him without complaint, so he doesn't ask how much pain he's in either. He doesn't really have to.

"Do you have - ah -"

"What?"

"Dude, I've been coping but my hair looks and feels like shit at this point, do you have a band or something to put it up?"

"Oh, yeah, hang on." Steve knows there are some of Robin's next to the TV cabinet and he's sure that she won't care if Eddie borrows one. She'd be happy to donate some to the cause. Sure enough there are a few big cloth ones and some hairbands in the bowl. He passes on the neon ones and picks the monochrome black and white stripe one instead, which he feels like Eddie will appreciate.

It takes a second of Eddie looking at it, then at him and wincing in realization, before Steve understands there's no way he can lift his hands over his head to do it.

"Not a problem," Steve reassures him and settles on his knees on the bed behind him, lifting his hands to pull Eddie's hair together. It's greasy underneath and dry on top but it's also much thicker than he expects and there's so much of it that it takes a second to gather it all into a loose tail. "You want a ponytail or a half-bun type of thing?"

Eddie snorts, as if that's the most ridiculous thing Steve's ever said.

"Knock yourself out, dude."

"Right, cool." His hand sweeps over the warmth of Eddie's ear, which he thinks he only saw for the first time in the hospital, he's more careful up the back of his neck, the curve of it unexpectedly smooth and blood hot, scattered with little healing scratches and holes he hadn't noticed before that he resists the urge to press a thumb to. It's a little weird but he's helped out guys that fucked up their shoulder hitting the ground too hard before. He twists the hair into the band, once, twice, three times, trying to get it to look like he'd seen girls with long hair wear it. The third time he only pulls it half through, so it's not getting in the way. It sits a few inches above the back of Eddie's neck, where fine, dark hair curls against pale skin. Steve's hands fall to his knees, grip there for a moment before relaxing. "Ah, is that ok, I can do it again?"

"Nah, that's fine, thanks, just wanted it out of the way."

Steve slides off the bed.

"If I kick everyone out early we can try heading upstairs? That way if you don't feel up to the trip back down you don't have to, and you can crash in the other guest room. Sound good?"

Eddie nods.

"Sounds good, Steve. Looks like I have an adoring public to convince that I'm no longer in danger of keeling over and expiring."

Steve shuffles round and leans in so Eddie can use him to slowly stand for the second time. He likes to think that his history of knowing when to brace for impact means that when he wobbles and has to grip Steve's hands, neither of them go down.

"How convincing do you want to be that you won't keel over and expire again?" Steve asks gently, while Eddie complains under his breath.

"I would like to not be wobbling like a fragile leaf in the wind," Eddie decides. "If at all possible. But I guess beggars can't be choosers, eh?"

"How about we sprawl you on the couch like an emperor instead then?"

Eddie seems to like the sound of that, breathing a laugh as Steve gestures towards the door.

"Sounds good to me."

It takes a minute to make the slow walk to the sofa, transferring pillows and blankets and bottles until Steve is happy to leave him to make breakfast. Eggs and toast and water, no coffee. He'd barely managed to eat it before the doorbell goes, repeatedly, and Steve resigns himself to the madness.

The kids are actually better behaved than he expected. They don't immediately throw themselves on Eddie, even if the look on his face has him wondering if Eddie was kind of hoping that they would.

Steve makes breakfast number two for the starving horde, and doesn't much care whether anyone's lying about not having eaten when they dig in, talking with their mouths full as they tell Eddie and Steve about Max, who's now awake and mostly off her machines. Steve knows Eddie's feeling that by the look on his face. He may not know her very well but he's one of theirs now.

He's one of theirs and so is Max, which now technically makes her his too.

There are loudly shouted conversations and food and a brief argument over what movie they want to watch, that Eddie breaks up by loudly declaring that he's the one who recently aced a saving throw. Steve has no idea what they're talking about but everyone agrees that Eddie wins movie choice by default. Dustin sits on the floor by the top of the couch, laughing every time Eddie drops a hand to gently shake the top of his head. And everyone shifts to make room so Steve can sit by Eddie's feet, dragging them into his lap with an eyeroll and a long suffering sigh. He almost forgets why, almost forgets that the kids all think they're together now.

But it's fine.

It's fine.

Chapter Text

Steve is trying to relax. Because Robin had been right when she told him it was important to occasionally take a moment to just enjoy the fact that they'd all survived. 'You can't take care of other people if you're running on fumes,' she'd said. He'd been tempted to point out at the time that he wasn't entirely sure what he did run on anymore.

Still, he'd known she was right. Steve's usual post-upside-down routine was to pack it all away in a box until the next hell dimension related catastrophe came calling. But that isn't going to work if Eddie actually wants to talk about it. If Eddie needs to talk about it then that box needs to stay open this time. Which...kind of sucks, but he understands. So he's currently trying to process the evil psychic wizard and his mind-controlled upside-down creatures for a change, thinking about how it was ok to be terrified by it all, because that's how a perfectly normal person would react. Steve, by all accounts, is a normal person. It might even help if other people want to come to him and talk about it too. Because he's damn sure that the kids aren't as fine about all this shit as they like to pretend half the time. If they're going to open up to him then he needs to not be a closed box. Which sounds incredibly stupid in his head, but he gets it.

Also, he thought maybe if people see him taking time to relax and not think about all the incredible shit they've all been through, then maybe they'll feel safer doing it too and that has to be a good thing in the long run. Though, to be honest, he's currently trying so hard to relax that there's an outside chance he's missing the whole point.

He might have picked the wrong time to process. The kids are in the dining room now, sketching out stuff for their dungeons game, not being as quiet as they could be considering Eddie is currently sleeping on the sofa. He'd managed four hours of excitement before his body called time on group activities. Steve kind of hopes he manages to keep the ability - or maybe habit - of falling asleep wherever he is whenever he needs it. Because if he ends up anything like Steve then trying to sleep through the night is going to be a whole new adventure. Especially after everything he'd seen. Even with the post-trauma box, which has never exactly been airtight, he thinks his body has started to view sleep as some suspicious activity it doesn't quite trust. Possibly because he's still half convinced something horrible is going to happen while he's not paying attention.

Steve trusts people to let him know when shit goes down at this point, but it always seems to happen after the fact. When everything is already half on fire. Maybe it's a good thing that it's all finally over because they've proven that they suck at getting any sort of headstart on it.

An hour later, after having given up on relaxing entirely, Steve's tidying away the remains of lunch, and trying not to bitch about the chips and lettuce on the carpet. He's fairly certain that it's his carpet now, since his parent's latest phone call had an awful sort of 'condolences on the events in your home town' feel to it. But Steve's decided he's just going to keep living here until some new family shows up with a rental van full of furniture and the understanding that the house was sold out from under him. Or until the card Steve's using to pay the bills gets cut off.

He clears the parts of the table they're neither eating nor playing on - ignoring Mike's noise of complaint when he retrieves an empty chip packet that he'd apparently been using to represent a monster's lair. Because he knows Eddie will give the kid so much shit if he gets cheese dust on any of the miniatures, whether they're his or not.

It feels familiar enough that something in Steve starts to...maybe not finally relax but definitely unwind a little. Accepting the idea that maybe everything can actually go back to normal for them at some point, or whatever was normal for them. Normal now including Eddie for him, he supposes. A new normal, which he thinks is going to be very different, but maybe not in a bad way.

Steve sits down on the couch, making sure he avoids the sprawl of Eddie's feet because he doesn't want to wake him. Clearly he doesn't do it carefully enough though, because he feels the poke of toes into his thigh a few minutes later. He turns his head sideways and finds himself being watched. Eddie looks tired and uncomfortable. Steve doesn't think the unexpected nap did him any good at all. He finds himself curling a hand around his bare ankle, warm from being under the blanket, and he can't help smiling and squeezing his fingers around it. He kind of likes how easy touching Eddie has become, and how much he clearly doesn't mind it. Steve loves Robin to pieces and he never doubts that she'd reach back if he reached out, but her touches tend to be brief. She's restless in a different way to Eddie, drifting in and out of range like a bird.

"You want me to chase them all out?" he asks.

Eddie looks unhappy for a second, as if the thought of sending them away genuinely upsets him, but Steve can tell that he'd been wrong labeling it discomfort, it's clear now from the way he's holding himself, the careful way he's trying not to put weight on his arm, that Eddie's in pain. Steve drags his thumb back and forth across the ball of his ankle, listening to Eddie's staggered little throat-clearing noise. It's clear he's not happy about the idea of Steve kicking the kids out, but eventually he nods. Steve squeezes his leg one last time, before pushing himself to his feet.

"Ok, that's enough excitement for today. Pack up your stuff and say goodbye." He swings both hands in the air like helicopter blades to make a point that they need to hurry up about it too, doesn't care if it makes him look lame.

There's a long chorus of complaints, of voices speaking together and insisting that Eddie needs to see whatever the hell they've been discussing. Which he absolutely doesn't because Steve knows it's not as important as giving him some peace and quiet right now, even if it's just space to himself to be grumpy while there's no one around but Steve.

"He can see it tomorrow. There is literally nothing critical and time-sensitive about your monster dice game." Everyone makes a complaining noise at that, including Eddie, which Steve is going to call him out for later. "Come on, pack it up. You can all come back tomorrow."

"No, not yet, Steve, please. It's been ages since we've managed to get the whole party together." Dustin almost sounds offended at being asked to leave Steve's house, which they've been making a mess in for hours, eating his food and enjoying his music. Though the Eddie in his head puts the "enjoying" in heavy quotes, the asshole. "And we have Will now. Come on, just let us finish our character backstories. It's important for set-up."

"Yeah, come on, Eddie's been asleep for the last hour anyway." Mike is whining again but Steve is tempted to give him a break since he'd actually made the effort a few times to remind them to keep their voices down.

"We're at an important point in our planning and the entire thing hinges on where we first met." Dustin seems to be under the mistaken impression that Steve gives a shit.

"We can phone around and say we're staying here for dinner, if you need us to?" Even Lucas is making it hard, what did Steve do to deserve this?

"Yeah, why do we have to leave when we're so close?"

Fuck it, he decides he'll go for broke here.

"Because my boyfriend wants to take a shower and literally none of you idiots are staying for that." That...was way more volume than he'd been going for there. Steve suddenly can't remember if he'd ever actually admitted to their fake relationship out loud before.

The kids seem to think the same thing, because they look shocked for a second. And then they look weirdly proud of him, which he decides is worse. Definitely worse. He refuses to acknowledge the color that may or may not be creeping up his throat. But the protesting noises at least turn into mumbled sounds of reluctant agreement that no they do not want to stay for that, obviously.

The reluctant shuffling of things turns into slightly less reluctant shuffling and Steve refuses to notice the way Eddie is trying to look at absolutely anything but him after that little declaration, not even while the kids still somehow manage to show him their stupid shit as they finish getting set to go.

Steve kind of feels like he's vibrating even as he throws things they've forgotten at them and reminds them to make sure their drinks are capped properly if they're going to toss them in their bags like that.

"Steve, will you pick us up tomorrow?"

Steve is genuinely surprised that's a question rather than a rudely worded assumption. So much so that he nods without complaint.

Will waves to get his attention.

"Nancy said she'd give me and Mike a ride tomorrow."

"Yeah so if you pick up Dustin and Lucas and Erica. And don't forget they're visiting Max after."

"Yes, fine, call me tomorrow, not before ten, and be careful."

"We know the way home, Steve," Mike grumbles, because he's a little shit who likes to undermine everyone. But then he has to ruin it by adding, "make sure you take care of Eddie, ok?" He's even scowling while he says it, which is infuriating. Honestly, he won't even let Steve hate him properly.

He shuts the front door behind them and then lets his head fall against it, harder than he means to because his skull rattles and the noise echoes through the house.

"Y'know, there were probably easier ways to get rid of them." Eddie's not looking at him, instead reading something Dustin had pushed into his hands before he left. "They all get the whole thing at this point. You don't need to double down." He does finally look up then and Steve doesn't miss the faint air of what looks like confused embarrassment pinching between his eyebrows.

"You think they won't make excuses to come back if I don't cut that shit off in advance?" he argues. Honestly, their relationship is turning out to be a pretty good trump card.

Eddie grumbles something but he must know Steve has a point. He drops his head back against the arm of the couch and sighs.

"I was pretty much faking sleep for the last half hour anyway."

"Yeah, you still look as if you could use a few hours, if I'm being honest." Steve leaves the thought hanging while he fetches Eddie's pain meds from the bedroom, sets them down on the table with a glass of water. The naked look of gratitude Eddie sends him before he takes them does a good job of snuffing out any irritation left in Steve. "Did you want to head upstairs to shower or try and sleep some more first?"

Eddie sets the glass he's holding down with only a tiny wobble.

"Steve, yes, I absolutely want to head upstairs, because I really need to not stink like hospitals as soon as humanly possible. My skin is half antibacterial cream and half surgical tape at this point. Though I do realize I'm at your tender mercies here, since I'm very likely to end up in a fucking heap in the shower on my own. More importantly I cannot wash anything above - hmm -'' He gestures at his torso, blanket slipping off his knees with the movement. "Maybe rib level at least, or cream and bandage myself after. I'm pretty much useless, in fact. The shower is basically your decision at this point. I'm about as mobile as a hot pocket."

"So that's a yes?"

Eddie waves him quiet with a hand.

"Hang on hang on, I'm trying to think of a cool and manly way to say 'yes, please help me take a shower, Steve, I have the upper body strength of a toddler, my hair is literally one day away from attracting small animals and my chest smells like a science experiment.'" He pulls a face. "One of those that they always leave in school over the summer so they turn into a sort of dubious brown sludge in the tank."

Steve pretends to think about it.

"Well you failed, but we can tell people you found one if it's important to you. My bathroom is yours."

"A true friend," Eddie declares, slowly retrieving the blanket. "I might even give you fake boyfriend points for this. You're going above and beyond." He stops, and seems to be considering the monumental effort that standing up and going upstairs is going to take. "How far away is upstairs do you think? Ballpark it for me, and be generous."

Steve folds his arms and pretends to consider the stairs like it's a tough play.

"Well, vertical distances don't count in basketball, so it's maybe twenty feet at most." Steve could probably carry him if it came to it. He wasn't joking when he said Eddie was heavier than he looked, possibly because he's all bones and hair, but it isn't that far. Carrying him upstairs doesn't exactly seem safe though and he knows that no matter how hard Eddie jokes about it, that needing help to do anything grates on him. Steve's pretty sure that's half the reason for the bouts of grumpiness. Turns out Eddie Munson is kind of shit at accepting help when the world isn't ending. He probably shouldn't be so surprised about that.

"Oh, well, that's fine, twenty feet is nothing. I can do that no problem."

"Alright." Steve claps his hands together. "Quest for the upstairs, many perils await, let's go." He jerks a thumb towards the stairs.

Eddie stops gently turning himself out of the cushions and looks up, his smile is wide and so genuine it's ridiculous.

"Steve, don't you dare be cute with me. I refuse to be baited."

Steve shrugs like he has no choice.

"I'm sorry, I thought you enjoyed quests? Are you turning down a quest, Munson?"

Eddie's laughing now, which is probably not going to be helpful once he tries to actually stand.

"Do not make it a quest, I will feel duty bound to over-perform and then end up on my face."

"Too bad, it's officially a quest now," Steve decides, leaning down so he can catch Eddie under the elbows, where the skin is still warm from the blankets. It leaves them close enough that he can see the stubble across his cheek and jaw, close enough to feel the way his breath flares out, warmth seeping through the thin material of his shirt. Steve thinks he should mention that he needs a shave at some point too.

Eddie doesn't seem to be in a hurry to get up now, he looks like maybe he's still considering Steve's comment.

"Will there be quest rewards?" he asks, after clearing his throat. "Worthy of the effort?"

Steve's tempted to point out that the shower is the reward. Getting wet is the princess in the castle, or whatever.

"You need a reward other than being clean?"

"Obviously."

Steve knows he can't offer him cigarettes, he's pretty sure coughing will land Eddie back in the hospital. Alcohol is also out with the amount of medication he's on right now. He already has his own music in his room, though he tends to only crank the volume up when Steve is out, or vacuuming. There's really only one thing he can put up here that Eddie's even mentioned wanting.

He straightens up, crossing his arms over his chest again and sighs like he's about to suffer immensely.

"One gaming session, two hours, I get to make my own character."

Eddie looks up at him, eyes widening behind messy bangs and his smile appears all at once, like the fucking sunshine. God, Munson has such a stupid face, and Steve thinks he understands how guys could be attracted to him. Assuming there are other guys who want to date guys in Hawkins, hopefully some who aren't a fifty-year-old chemistry teacher. Which is depressing in a whole lot of ways he doesn't want to think about.

"Are you messing with me right now?" Eddie demands.

"If you manage not to land on your face and pull open anything so badly that we have to call someone for it, you get me at a table whenever you want."

"Holy shit, you're serious, and while there are no witnesses, which means no one's going to believe this if I lose. We've been trying to get you to play forever. I'd written you off as a loss but the others were invested."

Steve doesn't know whether to be disappointed by that or not. The idea that Eddie had dismissed the possibility outright.

"Yeah, well, I hope you enjoy me sucking at it."

Eddie shakes his head, his expression serious all of a sudden.

"Steve, it's a game, it doesn't matter if you suck, no matter what those little shitheads tell you." He finally shifts his hips and lets Steve take his weight, levering him upright with the faintest hiss of air through his teeth. "The kids are going to flip." The end of that is a wheeze when he straightens out and he does nothing but hold himself still for a long minute.

"You can tell them you earned it," Steve says gently.

Eddie swears and lets his head fall against Steve's shoulder, laughing into the fabric of his shirt.

"Yeah, you might want to clarify exactly how I earned it," Eddie offers, slightly muffled. "Or they're going to assume...boyfriend privileges."

Steve gets kind of stuck on that for a minute, before realizing it would be a pretty obvious assumption to make, under the circumstances.

"I mean, tell them that if you want. If we were actually - I mean I'd want to spend time with you, wouldn't I? That's obvious relationship stuff. So I guess I'd play for that reason. It's not going to look weird that I'm supporting your interests, or spending time with your friends, granted they're technically our friends but, y'know, point stands."

There's nothing for a moment but the quiet sound of breathing and then Eddie's head comes up.

"Yeah, I guess you're the expert." The smile is a touch thinner when he straightens and gestures towards the stairs. "We should make a start or we'll be here all night."

Steve wants to ask what he did to kill the mood, but he worries that it's going to make it worse, so instead he lets Eddie slowly head for the stairs, one hand cupped round his elbow for balance. Once they reach the bottom they both look up and Steve honestly doesn't remember there being so many stairs in his house.

"God, this is going to fucking suck, isn't it?" Eddie sounds as if he's already feeling it.

"Yeah," Steve says quietly, commiserating, because his ribs had been seriously messed up after Starcourt and trying to undress and shower and look after himself had felt like an exercise in misery for a week. But Eddie doesn't have to do everything by himself. "It really is. Let me get you some clean clothes, cream and new bandages before we head up.

"Why doesn't your downstairs bathroom have a shower?" Eddie calls.

"Spite?" Steve guesses, reappearing from the downstairs bedroom. The word has Eddie laughing at least, as they slowly make their way upstairs. Steve's hand settles on the base of his spine to make sure he can't sway backwards. "Let me know if you're having trouble, I'll hold you up."

Eddie grumbles 'I'm fine, I'm fine,' but he also pauses for a minute halfway up, back moving obviously under his shirt as he takes in one breath after another. He moves again before Steve can say anything, working his way slowly towards the upstairs hall, the late sun painting the walls orange.

"First door on the right," Steve tells him.

"I've been to your house before," Eddie points out.

Which confuses him for a minute, until Steve realizes that almost everyone had been to his house before, his famous parties spreading to every floor. Nothing so obvious as invitations, just the understanding that a party would be happening. But Eddie still waits outside, letting Steve push the door in and flick the light on, illuminating the stark tiles of a room done in shades of white and cornflower blue.

Before Eddie can make a comment on the decor, or the size of it, Steve gently gets him to sit on the closed toilet, bunching his shirt at his waist and drawing it up and then forward down his arms so he doesn't have to lift them. The bandages are reassuringly clean, even if they have rolled and shifted enough to look disheveled. The cover on his face, they're supposed to be doing their best not to get wet so he leaves it alone.

"Ok, you get to decide now, you want to try a full shower?" Steve's pretty sure he's going to say yes, and he's not disappointed.

"Yes, god, just steer me in there and turn everything on full," Eddie says without hesitation. "Everything itches, I feel disgusting. Aside from gross end-of-the-world scenarios, and contrary to school rumors, I do enjoy showering more than once a fortnight."

"They didn't leave you completely hanging. Don't pretend I didn't see those hospital sponges."

Eddie pulls a face as if he hates to be reminded.

"The sponges are evil, we do not speak of the sponges."

Steve's laughing when he leans over to put the shower on, before he gets to work carefully untaping and unwrapping Eddie's bandages. It's been long enough that the stitches are all out, the wounds are healing. But there were a lot of shallow bites and gouges which didn't get stitched, now scabbed over and angry red, still tight and raw in places where the bandages rubbed on them. The doctors want Eddie to stay wrapped up for another week at least, to try and give everything the best chance to heal clean. The bruising is faint now though, the occasional curve of yellow-brown across the untouched skin between Eddie's ribs. A few more days and it'll probably be gone completely.

Steve doesn't trace the color of it with his fingers, though he's oddly tempted to. Instead he drops the bandages in the sink.

They've been carefully avoiding talking about the fact that Steve is probably going to have to get in with him, since he can't wash his hair by himself. Neither is he steady enough to stand in the water with his eyes shut, or keep the wound at his neck and jaw dry while he's turning.

They may have been avoiding talking about it but Eddie has clearly been thinking about it. Steve can tell because his nerves have very obviously kicked up a notch.

When he starts talking he's looking at his hands rather than Steve, the stark rounds of his shoulders curled forwards, wounds vivid now they're uncovered in the gaps where his arms hover above his knees, body still too weak to balance there.

"So, yeah, I feel like this could get really fucking awkward if I take my underwear off, but on the other hand I really want to wash everything while I have the chance. So you're going to have to either get cool with a bunch of stuff and promise to never, ever mention it. Or you can hold my shoulder and shut your eyes until I'm done."

"You realize I showered with a bunch of naked guys on a semi-regular basis, for years, right?" Steve reminds him, gently though because he doesn't want to be a dick about it. "I mean I know you avoided gym like you were genuinely allergic to it, but showering did happen."

"It's not the same thing," Eddie protests, and Steve can see the way he clenches his teeth.

"Kind of the same thing."

"Not even close to the same thing." Eddie feels frustrated, as if there's something Steve is refusing to get.

"I'm not going to shut my eyes while you sway around like a drunk sailor. I don't want to risk you falling, Eddie." Steve knows that's a perfectly sensible thing to be worried about.

Eddie squashes a curse behind his teeth.

"Ok, so just stand behind me then, help me with my hair, I can do the rest."

Steve doesn't know why Eddie's making this so difficult - until it occurs to him that he's a fucking idiot. Because Eddie is into guys and Steve is a guy and he's basically bullying him into getting in the shower with him naked. From Eddie's perspective, what he's effectively doing is the equivalent of making Steve shower with a hot girl. Only Steve's the hot girl in this scenario, he guesses. Faced with the same choice, he'd probably feel pretty awkward about it too.

Eddie is stalling because he's going to look at Steve and he's going to be naked and he's worried that he might enjoy it. Which, yeah, when he puts it like that it's probably a lot to deal with. Because maybe he thinks that Steve accepting that he's gay might stop at the point where Eddie can't help but make it obvious. Which would be incredibly shitty of Steve. Though he's not sure exactly what he can say to reassure him.

"It's ok." Steve finds himself saying. "Any way you want to do this, man, I'll follow your lead." He leans in and turns the shower on, adjusting the spray so it's gentle enough to not sting any of Eddie's wounds. Giving him a minute to not have Steve staring at him. "I'm not going to look at anything that I'm not actively helping with," he promises.

"Kind of assumed it wasn't you looking that was going to be the problem here," Eddie says carefully.

Which, no, he can't let him go on thinking that.

"You looking is not a problem either." Steve knows it's important that Eddie believe that. "You're medicated to the gills and you're barely out of hospital so feeling vulnerable is completely understandable, but we're cool. I promise. Just tell me where to stand, or hold, or look, and I will." He stretches out a wet hand to where Eddie's sitting, looking miserable under hair which has definitely seen better days. "I'll help you with your hair and your shoulders, back, legs maybe. You can do the rest, and then you can get out, get re-bandaged and take a nap. You'll feel better after, I promise."

Eddie grumbles something under his breath that Steve doesn't catch, but he seems to realize how hard Steve's trying. Eddie takes his hands, lets him help as he gently levers himself off the toilet and, after an awkward moment where his hands just kind of hover at his waist, he nudges his sweats and boxers down with his thumbs. They drop all the way to the floor while Steve makes an obvious show of finding shampoo and towels and setting his clean underwear and sweatpants down so he has something to change into. He doesn't want to be an asshole so he strips everything but his own underwear - though since he's wearing white briefs he's not sure that's going to matter once they get wet.

The hand that reaches for him a second time he catches tight hold of, fingers warm as he helps Eddie carefully step in and then turn his back to the spray.

"No options but the fancy shampoo?" Eddie asks through a squint, making a show of concentrating on Steve's bottles and pretending they're not almost naked together. That they're not almost naked together and holding hands - and, ok, Steve gets it now, this is absolutely nothing like sharing the locker room showers with Hagan or Hargrove.

"You're going to smell like you've been in my bathroom either way. It's too late."

"The horror," Eddie comments, seems to be trying to reach for more to say, to beat the sudden awkwardness into submission.

Steve figures it would help if they actually make a start on this. He shifts the spray again, watching Eddie's hair darken under the water, curls pulling straight as it gets heavy, wet bangs sliding lower to flick in his eyes. He hesitates for a moment before reaching out and pushing them back, gathering them with the rest, doesn't miss the shaky noise he gets at the gesture, surprise, or gratitude, he doesn't know.

He turns Eddie gently enough that he'll stay stable as he works shampoo in, he's too tall for Steve to see what he's doing properly but it doesn't really matter as he pulls his fingers through hair that's tangled and greasy, until it's bubbly and smooth, strands curling around his fingers. Eddie's hair is thicker than it looks, broken ends invisible once it's pulled wet and dark against his bare shoulders. If he took care of it a little better it would probably be softer, and less inclined to try and break from every angle. Steve had seen him playing with it, pressing it to his mouth, he can't imagine Eddie wouldn't enjoy it feeling nice to touch.

Steve's never gotten to wash anyone else's hair before, and he discovers that he really likes it, he loves the way it folds and curls as he digs his fingers in, the almost-warmth of it in his hands, the scatter of running water, the bend of Eddie's neck, tipped to the side a little where he's keeping his jaw as dry as he can. Not just that but also the quiet noise he makes when Steve digs his fingers in and rubs. It doesn't feel entirely intentional, because Eddie bites it off straight after, but Steve knows a good noise when he hears one. He finds himself wishing any of his girlfriends had let him do this, because he thinks it would have been really nice, the trust, the quiet intimacy. If it feels this good with someone who's just a friend he can't imagine how good it would be with someone he was dating.

With someone who wasn't just a friend Steve could take his time, follow the water down their back, put his fingers through the bubbles that traveled along their spine. He thinks it would feel really good to press into their back and let the water stream between them as he pulled shampoo through their hair -

But Steve knows he shouldn't be thinking about that right now. Not while he's in the shower with Eddie. Who is definitely counting on him not having sex thoughts like a creep.

He carefully tips Eddie's hair into the spray, covering his eyes while the water pours through his hair, dragging foam down the bare side of his face and his back and over his shoulders. It doesn't take long before Eddie has enough of staying still under someone else's direction, hand lifting enough to awkwardly push wet hair out of his face.

"Where's your soap, dude?"

"Dish." Steve gestures.

"The one that smells stupidly fancy?" His nose has turned up, as if he doesn't trust it, or doesn't want to smell of something overpowering for the rest of the night.

Steve gently turns him so it's easier to reach past him, and tries not to notice the way flecks of shampoo curls around the bend of his waist before breaking apart entirely and washing over his hip and away.

"Eddie, you want to know a secret about the stupidly expensive bars of soap that my mom buys?"

"Hmm?"

"It's just soap. For all that they say that they have shit in them to make your skin soft or that they smell like tropical islands or whatever, it's still just soap. It's expensive for the sake of it."

"Are we comparing the soap in the school showers too?"

Steve's sound of disgust is instinctive.

"Hell no, that's made out of crushed up hopes and dreams, it's fucking awful."

Eddie snorts wet laughter as he carefully washes the parts of him he can reach while Steve gets his back, all angular shoulder blades and strong curve of spine. Though he notices that after a while Eddie is mostly just letting soapy water run over the worse of his healing scars. Steve doesn't think the shower pressure is very enjoyable because he turns before he's entirely done and Steve wordlessly cups handfuls of water and lets it gently spill away the rest.

He's not wobbling but Steve instinctively takes a tiny step forward and lets Eddie lean into him for a moment, water spraying over them both. He debates whether to reach out and hold Eddie's waist, before deciding stability is more important than anything else and curls his hand there, trying not to think about the stretch of wet skin, or the faint edge of scar tissue under his thumb. He's gentle, Steve knows how to be gentle.

"You ok?" he asks.

There's a breathy laugh and then Eddie slowly straightens up, the water scattering against his back again. He lets out a sigh that sounds tired and pained, Steve gets the impression he's ready to be done.

"Yeah, yeah just needed a minute, turns out being clean is more work than I thought."

He carefully shuffles back, letting Steve's hand fall away.

"Can you hold my shoulder and shut your eyes for, like, thirty seconds."

Steve does as he's told, refuses to pay any attention to the way Eddie's arm is moving, or the muttering that he can't really hear it over the water anyway.

"There is only so much a small angry nurse with a sponge can do," Eddie says at last, before tapping Steve's fingers to say he can open again. He does, only to find Eddie looking at him through wet bangs that are half in his eyes.

It's not the same as when they went into the lake together. Eddie is looking at him like he trusts him to know what they're doing this time, all big eyes, pale naked skin and curves of raw red flesh. For a second Steve is a little overwhelmed by the idea of what might have happened. Of how empty his house might have been if things had gone differently. He thinks not having Eddie around would have been a fucking tragedy and he kind of hates that he would never have known that. He would never have known him.

Instead he gets to smile and draw a long strand of hair out of Eddie's face, let it drop onto his back and watch the slow blink, the rolling swallow in his throat. The moment feels oddly familiar, as if he's done this before, waited for something that felt a lot like this. There are water droplets trailing down a shoulder, scattering when they reach a groove of red skin, the pale unmarked line of a collarbone.

"Are we done?" Steve's voice comes out strangely thin, he hides it by shuffling the shampoo and soap back where it belongs while Eddie nods.

"Yeah, I'm dead on my feet right now."

Steve turns off the shower and gently throws a towel around him, before helping him step out and setting him back on the toilet, squeezing water out of his hair with another towel.

Eddie is very obviously putting in the effort to look at his face, a faint tick of color to his cheeks and Steve doesn't think it's entirely due to the warmth of the bathroom. He suspects that his white underwear is now see-through. The idea that Eddie is trying very hard not to look is kind of funny, and flattering, and some other third thing which makes him spend a bit longer than maybe he should rubbing the top of his head.

Pretending is easier than it should be right now. He's always liked being admired but he hasn't liked it this much for a while.

"Pills, cream, new bandages and then bed," Steve says, wrapping a towel around his waist and dealing with his soaking briefs. "Don't go anywhere while I find some new clothes for me, I kind of forgot that part."

"Not going anywhere," Eddie says quietly. He looks soft and thin where he sits wrapped in Steve's best towels, wounds angry-red and only half-healed under spots of water. There are freckles across the bridge of his nose and his eyes look huge. "Staying right here, conserving energy for the inevitable flurry of activity." He pulls the towel gently around his shoulders, smiling at Steve through lines of wet hair.

Steve finds that he really doesn't want to leave, half convinced that he'll miss his chance at something if he does.

But eventually Eddie looks away, and Steve heads out into the darkness of the upstairs hallway.

-

The nights get harder as they cut the dose of Eddie's pain medication in half and he's no longer tired enough to sleep through the gnawing and twinging of his chest piecing itself back together.

The stack of books stays untouched on the nightstand for a few days before Steve realizes that Eddie's having trouble holding them up, or open, for long periods. Which he'd wager is making the nights where he's not sleeping feel unbearably long.

Steve isn't sleeping as much either and it's almost too easy to drift past Eddie's room like he's haunting it, stopping against the door frame to check if he's awake and if he looks up to company, which is most of the time. Tonight, Eddie's fiddling with the chain he normally wears, trying to unbend a link maybe, but with more frustration than concentration. Steve moves from his position into the room and sinks down beside him, sliding the top book off the pile and flicking it open - hell no, far too many long words that he doesn't have a clue how to pronounce. He picks up the second, the writing is small but it looks fairly easy to follow.

He's pretty sure he's about to do something stupid.

He sinks down next to Eddie, who's given up, hands now in his lap, attention on what Steve's doing. Steve leans into the pillows, flicking the book back to the beginning of chapter one with a thumb.

"It had been three weeks since the village crops had started to fail. The fruit, which would normally be ripening in the heat of summer, was instead turning black on the vine."

"I'm sorry, am I just not supposed to comment on this?" Eddie asks quietly. He'd turned enough that his jaw was almost touching Steve's shoulder, and he could probably see the page perfectly well.

"You had your turn," Steve says simply. "Now it's mine."

Eddie stares at him for so long that he starts up again.

"The rot was quick to spread and remained untouched by insect, bird or beast. Yet, it reached only as far as the border to their town, the neighboring hamlet of Kettlesdown seeing no sign of it. Whispers that it was no natural infestation grew in number until most of the townsfolk accepted that someone had laid a curse upon them."

"Steve, you don't have to read to me. I know it's not your thing." It's said so softly, as if Eddie doesn't want to interrupt but feels compelled to get the words out.

Steve lays a hand on the book so he doesn't lose his place and rolls his head sideways

"Are you going to talk all the way through this?"

"Is that not allowed?" Eddie smiles, and, yeah, he knows perfectly well that bedtime stories are not audience participation events. At least they never were in Steve's house.

"Not usually."

"I wouldn't know, dude, no one's ever read to me before."

That's actually pretty sad, and Steve feels less like an idiot for taking the chance on a way to help him.

"Yeah, well that's probably lucky for you, you've got nothing to judge me against. It's kind of your fault anyway. You made us co-founders of a book club - the name of which escapes me right now, but I remember I voted against it."

Eddie muffles his amusement in Steve's shoulder, muttering something that sounds like 'an after-school club with Steve Harrington, who would have thought.' He doesn't tell him to stop though, he just tips his head back against the pillows and nudges him to continue with a knee.

It's not Steve's kind of story, it's all portents and ill omens and something undead rising from a forgotten tomb. Half the words are made up and tough to pronounce, which he feels a little self-conscious about. But at least there isn't much build-up before a boy with zero experience is bullied into going on a quest, which he accepts, like an idiot. Steve thinks the whole town considering him expendable is pretty ballsy of them, but Eddie clearly feels the same, muttering 'asshole' under his breath every time the mayor - who's not even pretending not to be evil - says something about sacrifice and duty.

"I'm assuming this crypt is going to have treasure?" Steve says, once he hits the fancy scrollwork for chapter four.

"There's always treasure," Eddie agrees, from where he'd slid down a little and was now tipped against Steve's arm, the warmth of every comment sinking through the fabric of his shirt.

"The guy's volunteered to go into a crypt full of skeletons and shit to save his town and this asshole is literally waiting for the moment he can go in, step over all the dead bodies and steal everything for himself, isn't he?"

Eddie nods. "Yeah, the foreshadowing is not subtle. Hope he gets eaten by something."

Steve slips a thumb further into the book and flips through a few dozen pages, only for Eddie to smack his hand.

"Hey, no reading ahead!"

"I just wanted to know if the mayor bites it," Steve admits with a laugh.

"Harrington, have you ever heard of dramatic tension? You'll spoil the story."

"I'm not reading it for me though. I'm reading it for you."

Eddie's expression is soft for a moment, before he's squeezing the unread part of the book shut.

"But if you look then I'll know that you know, I'll hear it in your voice. I want to hear the surprise and satisfaction from you when the man gets his head snapped off by a giant crab."

Steve swivels to face him, expression shocked.

"Is that what -"

Eddie laughs. "No, because unlike some people I know how to not spoil a story. I've never read this one, it's all new for me too."

That surprises Steve, he'd been assuming that Eddie had read all the books already and was just humoring him.

"So we get to find out what happens together?" Steve realizes, and finds that he's weirdly excited about that.

He's looking at Eddie so he sees the way his hand lifts, gets halfway to his mouth before abruptly dropping again. He gives an odd laugh, maybe surprise, maybe something else.

"Yeah, I guess we do."

Chapter Text

It turns out that Family Video is opening again in a week. Which is surprising enough to Steve, who'd been under the impression that Family Video had closed for good in Hawkins. The fact that Keith wants them both back is even more surprising. Though he's not going to sneeze at earning slightly more than minimum wage at a time when a little extra cash is going to come in handy. He's still not sure exactly how long he can expect to be sent money from his parents for the house, since it's now in the middle of a disaster zone, which had immediately tanked most of its value.

Steve had barely thought about work since everything happened. Honestly, he didn't think he had to, because Robin had made it sound like the place had caved in during everything. Not to mention, they'd both effectively taken off halfway through a shift anyway. But it turns out a few contractors checking out the roof and replacing some of the flooring is enough for a grand re-opening.

"Only not really, because that would cost money and time and effort." Robin had taken over the armchair across from him again, one leg thrown over the arm the other stretched out in front of her, toes tapping on the floor. "No, I think it's mostly just going to be a sign on the door telling everyone 'we're not dead, come rent some videos to distract you from how brief and fragile your lives are.' The least possible amount of effort."

"Do we get compensation for how brief and fragile our lives are?" Steve wonders, because he thinks that would be nice.

"We're not customers, Steve, we're cogs in the machine, un-compensated cogs."

Of course they are, how could he have ever thought otherwise.

"Boo."

"My feelings exactly, boo! Unfortunately employment isn't exactly easy to come by right now, what with the earthquakes and the secret hell dimension. In fact, Keith would probably have his pick of new faces to man the counter and rent videos to the masses, but I don't think he can be bothered to train anyone else. We are the devils he knows, which is working in our favor, yay us."

Steve can't help the sound he makes. He is not feeling the 'yay us,' though he's fully aware that it was sarcastic.

"Or he's afraid that he'll end up hiring someone worse than us and won't be able to get rid of them. Either way, I'm going to take my rewinding and auto-tracking secrets to the grave."

"To the grave," Robin agrees, lifting her hand to pinky swear at him from halfway across the room.

It's still early enough that they could put on a movie, if only just for the noise. Steve's not really tired - ok, that's technically a lie, he's so very tired, but it's not the sort where trying to sleep would be helpful.

"You realize Nancy and Jonathan left an hour ago, right?" Robin says quietly.

"Hmm?" Steve frowns, because he's not sure what that has to do anything. Nancy and Jonathan had spent a while hanging out with them, watching a movie, sharing drinks and snacks, talking about their lives in a way that didn't involve the end of the world or monsters for a change. The tension that always seemed to be held in Nancy's shoulders had been completely absent, in a way that Steve had been happy to see. It's been really nice to have her around as a friend, to hear her laugh, to actually appreciate that she had someone on her side, supporting her, rather than stewing in a vague air of regret and yearning - and, ok, jealousy, he's big enough to admit it. "What do you mean?"

Robin stretches a foot out and gestures pointedly at the shape sprawled across most of the sofa, and also Steve's lap, eyes closed, a spill of long dark hair across his knees. Eddie's been making breathy noises in his sleep for a while. Steve doesn't mind so much, even if one of his legs had gone numb a while ago.

"I mean, that you don't have anyone to perform for, but you're still holding his hand."

Steve looks down and realizes she's right. They'd been talking earlier, Nancy with her feet up in the armchair, Jonathan and Robin on the floor on opposite sides of the couch. Eddie had been rambling on about some sort of shapeshifting monster he was going to spring on the kids when he was up to campaigning again. But his speech had come to a stop suddenly, one hand pressed to the bend of his waist where a gouge had been taken out of the muscle. Steve could see sweat break out at his temple and it had been instinctive for him to wrap his fingers around Eddie's other hand, where it had been digging into the couch, to let him squeeze it while he got his breath back. Nancy had given him such a soft look over her coffee, something like satisfaction on her face. Eddie had fallen asleep eventually, sinking slowly into the cushions until he ended up sprawled over Steve's knees. He hadn't wanted to disturb him so he just hadn't moved, Steve thinks after that he'd just forgotten to let go. He's honestly not sure how long ago that was. Maybe part of him just misses having a hand to hold.

"Didn't even notice," he says honestly.

He carefully opens his hand and separates them, wipes his fingers on his jeans even though they're not damp. The warmth against his palm is slow to fade. Eddie's hand twitches, fingers curling absently in his sleep, as if he's trying to work out where Steve went. He resists the very real urge to slip his fingers back where they were. He feels like that would be too telling in some way, especially with Robin watching.

"Steve." There's more than just his name in that, something curious and questioning.

"What?"

"Steve Harrington, don't you what me," Robin says simply. There's a long stretch of silence that she's clearly struggling not to fill. "What are you doing?" she asks eventually, more quietly.

There are a lot of things Steve could say. A lot of excuses he could make. But the truth is he doesn't know. It's been easy to just let things happen without thinking about them too much, Because he knows if he thinks about them then they'll become a problem. Things with Eddie are easy. It wouldn't be the first time he'd met someone, gone through insane shit with them and come out the other side with weird trauma bonds and no boundaries.

It would be easy to explain this to Robin, she'd been through it with him.

But Steve isn't stupid. No matter what anyone thinks, he's not stupid and he knows it's not the same.

"I have no idea," he says instead and it still sounds far too honest.

-

The next week is too full for him to give it much thought. Max is awake now and Steve hadn't realized how much everyone had still been holding their breath until they could finally all exhale again, and now life seems to be going at a sprint. Max is confused about everything, groggy from her three and a half weeks in a coma, voice croaky from disuse and she still needs to see an eye specialist, but suddenly they're all at the hospital again, visiting in groups. Eddie has to stay behind, since he's really not up to it yet, no matter how much he complains otherwise. He has his own appointment at the hospital to check how he's healing in a week though, so Steve tells him they can drop in and see her then.

The kids almost feel like kids again, and Steve knows that's the reason he accepts any request for a ride that's sent his way. He knows the staff at the hospital better than he knows his own parents at this point. When he gets home, Eddie is waiting for him, fewer and fewer bandages every day, the raw edges to all his wounds slowly fading into scars and thinner scabs and bruising. He wants to know everything, after every hospital trip, and Steve sinks in beside him and gives him exactly what he asks for.

Until Friday, when Steve has to do his first proper day at Family Video with Robin. When he finally makes it home to the couch that Eddie has commandeered entirely as his own space - or maybe their own space since he always seems to move for Steve - he falls asleep right there, absolutely done in.

He wakes up to find a terribly made sandwich, a bottle of water and a bag of chips on the coffee table. There's also a blanket - Eddie's blanket - draped over his knees. He feels warm and so stupidly content that he pretends to still be asleep for five minutes rather than have too many feelings about the whole thing.

Everyone is ok.

Everything is finally over.

Eddie's bony shoulder is holding his own up, some awful quiz show playing in the background without sound, a stack of papers is spread over Eddie's lap where he's been trying to put together a welcome back campaign for everyone. A short one, he promised, no more than a few hours, because Steve knows how excited he gets and he's absolutely not up to climbing on any chairs or doing any dramatic voices. He'd promised he'd take care of himself, promised he wouldn't go overboard for the first time.

There's half a notebook of ideas scribbled down already, some of which Steve has heard. The pages of the book are curled from where Eddie keeps tucking it between the couch cushions and Steve feels so happy watching him that his chest hurts. He eats the sandwich and chips, even though it's almost midnight, letting Eddie explain a little of what he's been doing, because Steve has discovered that he really likes to listen to him talk, even when he doesn't entirely get what's going on.

"Thank you," he says belatedly, with a nod towards the now empty plate. "That was really good."

Eddie's face seems to think that's a gross exaggeration, but it still gets him a smile.

"No problem, this week has been crazy for you, and you've been feeding me pretty consistently so I figured it was only fair I return the favor."

Steve's been telling him from the beginning to help himself to anything in the kitchen, and he thinks Eddie might finally realize that he's serious. He tries to make sure there are always leftovers in the fridge but Steve's house is busy enough at this point that it's always a possibility hungry teenagers will have cleaned him out when he's not looking. The idea that Eddie finally feels comfortable enough to venture into his kitchen and make something for Steve was a huge deal and he can't help smiling across at him.

"You still think you'll be up to doing a game next week?"

"Don't you think the kids have earned it?" Eddie's raised eyebrow seems to think that Steve is suggesting otherwise.

"Not what I asked," Steve says.

Eddie seems to find that amusing.

"Yeah, man, I'm good to get back in the saddle. I can't wait for it, to be honest, feels like something normal I can concentrate on for a change. I think it's been good for me, having something I can control the outcome of, more or less. Body's kind of a mess but building an adventure from scratch takes exactly one muscle and luckily for me that one didn't get knocked around too much. There's a twist ending and everything - don't tell anyone that! And, I promise," Eddie does the shittiest scout's honor hand gesture that Steve's ever seen, "no jumping on the table, no yelling, no getting acrobatic with my dice. And you know, you could always play with us if you're so worried. Granted, I've earned a freebie, to cash in at my leisure, but I mean as a regular thing. You know no one would mind. Dustin would flip if you showed up, he might even pee a little. Tell me that wouldn't be worth it?"

Steve can't help the snort of laughter, matching Eddie's stupid grin with one of his own. Sliding into a chair next to Dustin and slapping a character sheet down out of nowhere would be kind of funny.

"I told you, improvisation isn't really my thing." That and Steve was pretty sure there was more math to the game than he'd find fun for more than a round or two, it's not like he's never seen them playing. Adding up their rolls against how many hit points someone has and if they're being attacked from below or above, what armour everything has and whether they take extra damage from fire - it sounds pretty fucking complicated to him.

Steve knows they'd help him if he needed it. He just...doesn't want to ruin the flow they've all built up together.

"I don't know, Steve, you've been known to think on your feet a time or two." Eddie sounds so genuine, and he knows they're talking about more than games now. A quiet reminder that Steve has taken on worse than a few pen and paper monsters and won. He's not the only one though. The side of Eddie's jaw is bare now, the delicate web of scars no longer pulling his mouth so tightly when he smiles. It's a silvery-pink spill that's impossible to hide, though Eddie's never tried, not around them at least. Steve sometimes wonders what it would feel like under his fingers -

He clears his throat, laughs when the conversation comes back to him.

"Besides," Steve realizes. "You just told me about the twist ending."

Eddie looks surprised, and then pained, and for some reason it's the funniest thing Steve's ever seen.

"I did, you're right, I did. I've changed my mind, you can't play."

"It's ok, dude, I think me and Robin are working anyway."

"No rest for the wicked, huh? I'd love to know who's battering at the doors demanding to rent all the movies this soon after the apocalypse, anyway?"

Steve looks pointedly at where there's an obvious stack by the TV.

"I mean obviously us," Eddie says, as if that wasn't even a question. "But I mean, like, normal people. There are some of those left in Hawkins, so I'm told."

-

For all that Steve worries about Eddie wearing himself out, having something to look forward to is helping.

It's the perfect timing too because the third week is harder than the first two. Getting him to start eating properly again had been easy enough, but getting him to do the stretches that the hospital had recommended for him has been a colossal pain in the ass. Steve's never been accused of fussing and bullying someone so much in his life. Eddie is a stubborn little shit when he doesn't want to do something, and trying to get him to work on his still healing muscles is really fucking hard. Mostly because being out of his bandages completely has left him feeling vulnerable, Steve can see it.

He's currently knelt on the floor, staring down past Eddie's knees at where he's lying in the space the coffee table used to occupy, jeans riding low without a belt, shirt pulled up past his navel. Very obviously not doing the exercises he's supposed to be doing.

"Eddie...come on man." Steve's trying not to push but he's going to heal faster and stronger if he just sucks it up and does them. And, yeah, he gets how he's being a hypocrite about this, considering how often he ignored medical advice. But it's safe to say that he's pretty invested in Eddie's wellbeing at this point. To what some people might consider a stupid degree. The more he does now the better he's going to heal, the stronger he's going to be.

"If you like the damn stretches so much then you do them," Eddie says through his teeth. He'd left his arms flung out either side of him on the last set of stretches and he looks determined not to budge. No matter what Steve promises him. Which isn't a good sign.

"You only have five to go for this morning," Steve argues. "That's nothing."

"I've done a million already."

That's a gross exaggeration.

"You've done ten."

"Liar," Eddie says simply. "I did fifteen."

"Robin?" Steve calls over his head.

"Sorry Eddie," she says over the top of the magazine she's reading. "You're at ten."

"Obviously you're going to take his side." Eddie doesn't even bother looking at her while accusing her of treachery. He looks miserable and Steve can't even blame him, because he'd seen Eddie go through it over the last few weeks, he'd seen how much the healed wounds pulled and pinched and ached. But if he wants a full range of motion then he needs to do this.

"Do you want me to put a cushion under your back?" Steve offers.

"No, I do not want you to put a cushion under my back." The words come out sharp.

"It might help." All Steve is trying to do is help.

"I might help if I kick you in the face," Eddie counters immediately.

"If I let you kick me in the face will you at least do the last set of five?"

Eddie's toes curl in the carpet under his hands. Steve had been kind of hoping he'd laugh at that but instead he just looks tired and miserable.

"I'm not one of your damn kids you know," he snaps.

"Oh I'm well aware of that." Steve's tired, he really is, because he doesn't like this either. Who takes someone's pain medication away and then makes them start moving injured muscles? He feels like he's hurting Eddie on purpose at this point and that makes him feel fucking awful.

The fact that he's sleeping more easily now doesn't even help, because the nightmares have started up right on schedule. They leave a sickly layer of fear and anger over the pain, in a way that Steve is far too familiar with. He knows what it's like to be alone for them, so Steve ends up haunting the living room with Eddie on long nights, never certain if he's going to be offering comfort or risking a bite. He stays with him either way though, learns more about Eddie than he expected him to share, even if it is all honesty spat out at three in the morning.

Sometimes there's nothing but apologies, and a miserable sort of defeat, which Steve stays for too. Because he knows Eddie is coping as best as he can, he knows there's a lot of himself that he normally bites back for fear of being too much - of being unwanted.

But if anyone has earned the right to not be ok, it's Eddie Munson.

Steve just wishes he'd do his damn exercises so he had the energy to make it through the night.

"This is going to make it so much easier to reach over your head again. Full range of motion, no shaking when you carry stuff, you just have to get the muscles used to working again. They've been through some shit and they're re-learning." Steve had read the little pamphlet they'd put in with Eddie's last round of medication.

"Jesus Christ, fine, fine, you slave driver." Eddie spreads his arms out either side and then brings them up above his chest without bending them, he holds them for a strained count of ten, before slowly letting them stretch up over his head.

It's clearly utterly miserable for him and Steve does nothing but watch his face, the tight clench of his teeth, the angry set of his jaw, the sweat at his temples. It hurts, Steve knows it does and he hates it too for that exact reason.

When Eddie's done he brings his arms down with a wince and lays on the carpet, breathing hard and saying nothing at all.

Steve flops down beside him.

"You're doing so good," he says quietly.

"Shut up," Eddie says, it's tight like he wants to be angry, but Steve feels the knock of fingers against his own.

"I know you hate it and I know it's fucking miserable. But you want to hold a guitar again, right? You want to be able to play that thing for hours? You want to be able to take the weight of it, while a ton of people scream your name. How are you supposed to do that if you neglect your chest muscles?"

He knows he's said the right thing when Eddie's eyes close and he mumbles something that sounds a lot like agreement.

"Yeah, well I know you can do it. You're the most stubborn person I know after Nancy."

Eddie huffs a tired laugh and Steve knows he's not going to argue with that.

"Shut up, I'm doing it, aren't I?" The words are far too soft to be a protest. "Ugh, Steve, you're the worst. I think I hate you."

Steve rolls his head until their hair mixes together on the carpet.

"No you don't," he says and he's never been so happy about being right.

-

Steve worries, as Tuesday looms, that the mini-campaign is going to be too much for Eddie. But he trusts him, and he mostly trusts the kids not to push him. He trusts that someone will call him if anything happens too. Then he heads into work, and trusts that Robin will be waiting for him when he gets there.

Which, when he thinks about it, is a lot of trust for him, so maybe he's learning too.

Thankfully it's a slow day. Only three people come in and only one of them rents anything, they're not exactly getting the new releases right now. Hawkins isn't a priority by any means, even though the "earthquake" and "serial killer manhunt," - both of which Steve is still struggling to keep straight - means they're getting more attention than before. It kind of sucks to live through another round with the upside-down and have to pretend it was something entirely different. Some days Steve thinks pretending that none of it had happened would be easier.

"If you want to take off early I can handle closing," Robin tells him.

"You don't have to do that." She went through everything he did after all. Getting back into the routine of having a job is tough for both of them.

"Yeah, but I know you're going to worry that your little gremlins are wearing Eddie out, getting him all excited over - I don't know - goblin fights and treasure hunts and whatever else they actually do. I know he's been excited about getting to set up a bunch of crazy shit for them again. Which, obviously he should get to do fun stuff that makes him happy. But also he's been looking tired lately and he doesn't listen to anyone but you." The last part is said with a significant look, which he chooses to ignore.

"He's not sleeping well," Steve admits.

"Body all healed up so it's the brain's chance to need some assistance?" Robin asks quietly.

"Something like that, yeah, which is why I think today will really help, by making things feel a bit more normal for everyone, him included."

"No weird upside-down monsters in the campaign?" It's clear she's as fully not on board with that as he is.

"No, I checked just to be sure." Though Steve knows the kids are the ones responsible for that so far. "Honestly, I'm amazed they can still play that shit considering they keep stealing monster names from it."

"Eddie lets you read his notes?" Robin seems genuinely surprised. "He doesn't let anyone read his notes."

"Boyfriend privileges," Steve decides.

She doesn't offer anything to that but a squinted look of suspicion and a sigh. She looks like she wants to say something else, but in the end she shuts her mouth. She doesn't have to speak though, he's been hearing it well enough. 'You realize Eddie is not the only person role-playing here, don't you? What are you doing Steve? What are you doing?'

He still doesn't know for sure.

"What are you taking to Joyce's barbecue this weekend?" she says instead, biting everything else back behind her teeth. He loves her so much for it.

"I was thinking beer and chips. That way I'm catering to both adults and kids."

When it comes to a party for all of them there's no such thing as too much food. Steve sometimes forgets how many of them there are. Max is coming out of hospital next week, he's already told everyone to let him know when, that he'll be there, of course he will. She's going to need help and she's going to hate it. But Steve thinks he could be good at that too, being someone she could be angry with, if that helps.

He gets home at ten to find the house quiet, Nancy and Jonathan said they'd drop in and take everyone home at nine, but the kids always run late so it was fifty-fifty if they'd still be around.

The living room is messy in the way that suggests a bunch of teenagers made a vague attempt to clean up after themselves, Which Steve chooses to be proud of them for, because he'd made Eddie promise not to try and clear anything up after they'd all gone home, that Steve would take care of it. Even if the place had looked like shit it could all be dealt with tomorrow. Instead the room is lightly rumpled, barely anything in the carpet. Someone's jacket is still slung over one of the chairs, and if Steve had to guess he'd say it was Mike's. It's funny how often the kids just casually leave stuff here, like they always know they're coming back.

Eddie is on the sofa, leaning back into a nest of cushions, he looks exhausted, the space between his eyes pinched in a way Steve's more than familiar with at this point.

He drops his bag and heads over, hands pressing down on Eddie's shoulders until he slowly tips his head back. His eyes are shut, bangs falling into his hair, a sound of greeting in his throat. Steve has an odd moment where he almost instinctively leans down.

"You ok?" Steve asks. He lets his eyes pass over Eddie's face, can't help noticing the way the furrowed space between his eyes has smoothed out, freckles barely visible in this light, the outer strands of his hair curl under his jaw. Steve can feel the warmth of his neck against his thumb, which is still chilled from outside.

"Yeah." The word is drawn out longer than it should be, so he keeps looking until Eddie cracks an eye open and looks at him. "I might have spent a bit too long leaning forward on the stomach muscles I don't quite have yet."

Steve winces in sympathy and lets his hands slide free, working his way round the couch until he can sit down next to him.

"Was it good?"

Eddie laughs, immediately regrets it judging by his reaction, then laughs again.

"Mike got cursed, then everyone else chose poorly and made it worse. But idiots triumphed over evil in the end. So, yeah, it was great." He looks content where he sits, even with the thin lines of pain in his face.

"You didn't go easy on them then?" Steve's pretty sure he already knows the answer.

"Those little assholes would have never forgiven me," Eddie tells him. "I started them off in a room filling up with water and a timer."

"I remember, I think I voted for three minutes instead of one."

"You were right," Eddie agrees with a nod. "They were rustier than I expected."

"Hmm, so you didn't go easy on yourself either then?" Steve guesses.

"I have no regrets," Eddie says, with the voice of a man who definitely has regrets.

Steve doesn't say anything, he just makes a noise.

"I have minor regrets," Eddie corrects. "Not worth talking about, please don't mention them."

"Early night for you?" Steve knows it's only just after ten but he looks half asleep already.

"Would go for that, but I don't want to move yet." Eddie seems to be thinking about it though, he eventually sighs and tips his head to the side. "I say I don't want to but I may change that to 'can't.' Watch this space."

Steve heads to the kitchen, brings back a glass of water and painkillers, then he helps Eddie take off his shoes and drags the blanket off the back of the couch. He hasn't slept in here for more than a week but it's been a long day. He's earned it.

"Ok, stretch out."

Eddie does as he's told for once, sinking with a sigh where Steve puts the cushions. He draws the blankets down too, unfolding them and laying them over him.

"You've ruined me," Eddie says, with mock misery. "Look at me, a perfectly good Tuesday night to go out and cause trouble and here I am going to bed at 10pm like some elderly gentleman after a long afternoon of shuffleboard at the home."

"You're not a gentleman," Steve decides, but leaves the rest to stand.

"Slandered in my own home!" Eddie grumbles.

Steve can't find it in him to contradict that, though Eddie clearly expects him to. Instead, he leans into the back of him, chin balanced in Eddie's hair, which smells like his shampoo. He presses his cheek against it, lets the warmth seep into his skin. He has no idea what he's supposed to do with how good this feels.

"We can go to bed at ten if we want to, babe," he says quietly. "I won't tell anyone if you don't."

Eddie doesn't say anything else, Steve assumes he'd fallen asleep.

He's tempted to stay there all night, Eddie's back settled into the warmth of his chest, one arm slung over his waist and buried between the cushions. But eventually, reluctantly, he drags himself off the couch, shuffles Eddie a little deeper under the blanket, then heads up to bed.

-

Steve gets downstairs the next morning a little after six, he doesn't really want to run or swim at the crack of dawn anymore, but his body still thinks he might sometimes. Eddie's no longer on the couch. The blanket's neatly folded and his bedroom door is shut but Steve can hear him moving around in there so he's probably changing.

He has more eggs than he'd thought he did, so that's apparently what's going to be for breakfast today, though he's not sure what he's going to do with them yet. Omelet seems quick and easy enough, he has nothing planned for the day and he's kind of looking forward to breakfast together.

He has a pan out and the eggs in one hand when Eddie appears, heads into the kitchen with both hands in his pockets.

"Morning," Steve says, with feeling, because he's always happier when he has someone to cook for. "How did the elderly gentleman sleep?"

Eddie doesn't even crack a smile, he heads over and gestures for Steve to give him his hand. There's no reason not to, so he switches the spatula to his right and offers it over. Eddie turns it up the other way and gets a grip on both sides of his ring, forcibly squashing it inwards from each side. Steve makes a brief panicked noise, because for a second he thinks Eddie is going to break it - but instead he catches it tight and draws it up and off Steve's finger. And it's gone, just like that.

"Kind of think this whole thing has run its course, yeah?" Eddie says, without looking at him. He lets the ring roll between his own fingers before curling them around it until it disappears from view.

Steve immediately hates how flatly that's offered, as if he'd fucked up somehow. His hand feels oddly cold, left stretched across the kitchen, and he lets it drop.

"Eddie -"

"I shouldn't have let this go on so long."

Steve reaches down and turns the stove off. Because this is so not a conversation he can have while making breakfast.

"I thought we were going to talk about it." The words come out in a rush. "When we decided -"

"Why would we need to?" Eddie does look at him then, brows furrowed, eyes tense, Steve can't read anything from him at all. "It seems pretty simple to me. We broke up. Don't worry, I won't make you the bad guy. We can say I broke up with you."

And even though none of it was real, that still feels like a kick in the chest. It feels fucking awful. If none of it was real, why does this feel so much like a rejection?

"No one has to be the bad guy." Steve hears himself saying, as if from a long way away, trying to fix something that he's pretty sure they'd always meant to break. Of course this was going to happen eventually, it was always supposed to. He just hadn't expected it to be right now. He's not ready for it. "It can be a mutual thing?"

Eddie looks at him, frowning, as if Steve had surprised him.

"Yeah, I mean, that would probably be better I guess," he says eventually.

"So no one feels like they have to take sides," Steve continues, feeling stupid but somehow desperate to keep them talking. The idea of anyone thinking Eddie had done something wrong leaves Steve feeling nauseous. Because this whole thing had been his fault from the start, which means everything that's happening now is also his fault too.

How long had Eddie wanted to put a stop to this?

"Jesus, yeah, forgot that's a thing people do." Because Steve is the first person he's ever dated - not dated, pretended to date - and that feels worse suddenly.

"We can say -" Steve has no idea what they can say.

"We can say we're better off apart," Eddie suggests. "Play it off like it was an experimentation thing for you."

That one lands like a slap, an experimentation thing, for him but not for Eddie, because it wasn't anything at all for him, was it? That hits Steve much harder than it probably should. All the air lodges in his throat like he's forgotten how to breathe. But Eddie's still going as if he hasn't even noticed.

"You can show up at the barbecue without the ring, no big scene, no hard feelings."

No hard feelings. No more lying on the couch together, no more handholding, no more piling Eddie's wet hair together and rubbing it gently in the shower, no more sharing one bag of chips, no sneaking him swallows of beer now he's off most of the painkillers and all the antibiotics. There'll be no more letting him have half Steve's lap when they have guests. No more tipping his face into his hair and smelling Steve's shampoo when neither of them can be bothered to move and they might as well sleep where they are. No more helping him heal on lazy afternoons, or encouraging him to stretch until his bones hurt. No more feeling like someone had kicked him every time Eddie drops his head over the back of the couch and smiles up at him.

None of that.

Because it wasn't real.

Steve feels like the ground has just fallen out from under him.

"I can head back to the new trailer tomorrow," Eddie continues, completely oblivious to Steve desperately wanting this to stop. "Wayne's been waiting to show me around it, get me settled in properly."

For all that Steve had known this wasn't going to last forever he honestly hadn't expected Eddie to leave once it did. He's more mobile now but he still gets tired easily, he still has trouble with distances, and bending to put his pants and shoes on, he still has weeks worth of exercises. The more Steve thinks about him going home, trying to take care of himself, the more it feels like he's trying not to panic about it.

"Eddie, you don't have to leave -" The words are hurried out, excuses forming behind his teeth as he talks, but Eddie doesn't give him the chance.

"Probably a good idea though, not exactly going to sell a break-up if I stay here with you, is it?"

Steve knows that makes sense, of course he does. But it doesn't make the idea of it any less distressing. Eddie's been here almost a month now and Steve knows the house is going to be more empty than it's ever been. He's never had someone to come home to before, someone to cook dinner for, someone that will ask him how his day was and then make him laugh when he says 'miserable.'

They've been settling into the sofa together for long enough that it had started to feel as if they might just keep doing it forever. It had felt like they were building something, and the idea that maybe Eddie doesn't want that - that he never did. Steve can feel it all just slipping away and there isn't even anything he can say.

They weren't dating. It was never real.

He watches Eddie roll the ring between his fingers a few times, before he squeezes it back into shape and then pushes it down onto his own hand, where it belongs.

And something about that feels horribly final.

Chapter Text

It almost feels wrong going to work the next morning, as if Steve was pretending everything was normal, pretending he hadn't ruined the comfortable space he and Eddie had been building together.

Obviously Eddie wasn't going to stay at his house forever, but whatever ending Steve might have imagined had been far softer than this. He'd pictured trips back to the trailer over the span of a few weeks, time spent leaning against the outside in the sun, comparing the way their scars were healing, warm hands against the tightness where the scabs had been. The stuffy heat of Eddie's place every other afternoon. Dinner ferried from one house to the other depending on where they were all meeting that day. Late nights where the chance of one of them getting a little closer than they could brush away seemed more possible.

Until they found a place where they could still be everything they'd become, and more?

Maybe it was stupid of him.

Because that wasn't an ending at all.

Things had been good, things had been really good - but maybe Eddie had finally had enough of him? Maybe Steve had been smothering him and he hadn't even noticed, maybe he'd seen too many things that weren't really there. He'd forgotten sometimes that it was just pretend for Eddie, should have been pretend for him too. But, yesterday, Wayne had come and picked him up and that was that. It had all been over with an awkward thanks and the world's stiffest goodbye hug, Eddie's palm loose on the middle of his back.

Then Eddie had left him.

The empty space on Steve's finger feels wrong, not just because the ring had sat there for a month, resisting all attempts to remove it - even though Steve can't remember actually trying to take it off for a few weeks now. It feels like he'd failed at something, as if something important had gone wrong when he wasn't paying attention. Eddie had taken it back so easily, made it obvious that he'd known all along how to remove it if Steve had ever asked him to. But, in his defense, Eddie had never offered to help him either. If he'd wanted to he could have taken the ring at the beginning, in the hospital, right after Steve confessed what had happened. He could have fixed it then, and maybe that's the only thing he's hanging on to right now.

Robin is hunched over the Family Video counter next to him, elbows on the wood, an uncertain sort of frown on her face. He can feel how much she wants to talk about it, and knows that she's waiting for him.

Steve hasn't managed to find a way to explain it yet, the empty space on his hand and how he feels about it. He hasn't been able to stop himself from looking at it, or from rubbing the bottom of his finger as if he keeps forgetting and expects to find it there. He's not sure he needs to tell Robin what happened at all, since he already knows exactly how this conversation is going to go. But he guesses that actually having it is kind of the point.

"Me and Eddie broke up," he says flatly and immediately hates the shape of it in the world.

Robin looks as if she's choosing what she says next carefully. But in the end she must decide to just go straight in.

"But not really though," she says. As if he'd forgotten that the whole thing started as a stupid accident.

Steve crosses his arms and shrugs. He knows she's trying to make a point, she's not even being cruel about it, it doesn't mean it doesn't hurt.

"But not really," she repeats, far more gently.

"No," he says sharply, because he really doesn't want to hear her say it again. "No, ok, fine, not really. We were never together in the first place so I guess it doesn't matter, literally nothing has changed. Clearly I'm just being stupid about this." He pushes angry fingers through his hair. "But he left, Robin, he packed up and headed back to their new trailer and I don't get why that had to happen. It's not like it's an actual break-up, I don't get why he suddenly feels the need to be literally anywhere else but near me." He can feel the wood of the counter against his back, the faint hum of the air conditioning.

"Did you ask him?" Her voice is still so careful, and he hates that too.

"I've been trying to but he won't talk to me. He took his ring back and now he's basically freezing me out."

"And you're angry about that?" she says, as if it wasn't blindingly obvious.

"Yes, I'm angry about that."

"Because you liked having him in your house?" Robin guesses.

"Yes!"

"Because now you feel abandoned."

"Yes," he bites out, though this one hurts a little more because she knows far too much about him, about the things that scare him.

"Because you wanted to actually be dating him?"

"Yes," he snaps back.

Steve doesn't realise what he'd admitted to for a second, the silence slowly collapsing in on him when he accepts that it's true, of course it's fucking true. He knows himself well enough at this point to know when he's in too deep. The way he feels about Eddie is so stupidly obvious when he actually looks at it. He has no idea how he managed to see a hundred variations of the same smile without realizing he wanted to take it between his hands and kiss it until he couldn't breathe.

Robin's expression doesn't change, mouth pulled up at the edge, some quiet sympathetic thing in her face. Because of course she knew, she probably knew when he did, but unlike him, she'd had no reason to pretend otherwise.

Anyone else and he might try and backpedal, might make excuses, might accuse them of setting a conversational trap that obviously he was going to fall into. But he can't, because it's true, and he hates that he'd only worked out exactly how true it was now that everything is over and it's too late to admit it. He's an idiot and now he'd ruined something he didn't even have in the first place.

"I'm so stupid," he says simply.

"You know you're allowed to choose him, right?" Robin's voice is so soft. Steve wants to tell her that he's not going to break. He knows what sort of mess he'd made, knows it was all his fault, knows it was his stupidity that started this in the first place. But he also knows that he messed up the ending, somehow, he must have done or Eddie wouldn't have left.

"I know that. Obviously I know that." It's too late now though, isn't it? "I mean, my timing for huge revelations about myself clearly could have been better."

Robin's face is not helping him feel fine, if he's being honest.

"I'm sorry," she says quietly.

"No, I get it, I'm an idiot. Of course I got too invested in something that was fake and wanted it to be real." Of course he has feelings that are too big to hold and an inconvenience to everyone else...again. Story of his goddamn life at this point.

"Well, maybe you weren't the only one who did?"

She's trying to be nice, she's trying to make him feel better, but he's pretty sure that if Eddie had any interest in him he would have noticed. Though even thinking about it feels a bit shitty considering he'd been at Steve's house recovering after nearly being eaten alive. Eddie had needed a friend and Steve had thought he'd done everything he could to be that friend. It had felt like a second chance to get to know him. Because it turns out meeting someone when they were on the run, wanted for murder and hunted by interdimensional monsters, wasn't the greatest starting point for a healthy relationship.

They'd got there in the end though, and Steve was lucky enough to know the Eddie that lounged on his sofa and read to him, and made jokes about his undercooked pasta, did a running commentary on all his favorite movies, and left snacks out for him when he dozed off halfway through the day. The Eddie who'd spent a whole afternoon making a mixtape that alternated songs they liked so they could have music while Steve did chores, and was so damn patient while Steve did his best to bandage and medicate someone else for a change even while he was in pain. Having him in his space had felt good, it had felt right.

But clearly Eddie's future didn't include Steve, not like that anyway.

"Robin, no, that would be a nice thought if Eddie hadn't made plans to leave literally the second we split up - sorry, since we agreed to stop pretending there was anything to split up in the first place." The last part is added harshly, because he can blame himself for that even if no one else is going to.

He can tell she wants to say more. But, to be honest, he's too miserable and disappointed in his own stupid choices to listen to it right now.

"I'm just going to let him decide what happens now, I guess."

"You've been doing that the whole time," she points out, and then completely ignores his look that he hopes conveys 'he got half-eaten by bats and I was a prize idiot, of course I did.' "Your feelings matter here too, you know." She looks briefly annoyed by the idea that he hadn't considered that at all. "Look, I've seen you two together. Even without a fake relationship under your belt, you're good together, Eddie's your friend and he cares about you. It might be awkward for a bit, but we've braved dangers untold and hardships unnumbered -"

"Stop quoting Labyrinth at me, Robin."

"You know Eddie would do it if he was here."

Steve sags against the counter, stares out through the main doors. She's right, she's right and it hurts.

"Yeah, well he's not."

-

Steve's not feeling any better by the weekend. There's a headache lingering almost all the time and he's sleeping like shit, wandering the house in the middle of the night as if he might still find Eddie on the couch scribbling down notes for the next game. Which, Steve assumes, isn't going to be held at his house this time, and that's a bruise he's going to keep poking, because whatever had gone wrong, whatever had encouraged Eddie to shut the whole thing down, had happened that night.

Steve can't remember anything though. No matter how hard he tried. Maybe it wasn't anything specific to that night. Maybe it was all the little lies building on top of each other. Maybe Eddie had started to feel guilty about the whole thing. Which was fair. They'd been lying to everyone, to all their friends and their family, and the fact that they'd fixed it the way they said they would originally doesn't make it hurt any less.

Maybe Eddie feels bad about the fact that he went along with it for so long. Or maybe he caught on that Steve wanted to kiss him before even he realized it, and decided to save them the awkward conversation.

For all that it wasn't a real break-up it sure fucking feels like one to him.

But the barbecue at the Byers rolls around before he's ready for it. He knows everyone is going to be there, and even though Steve doesn't feel up to socializing with the whole party he knows he can't say no. It's too important to everyone else at this point, doing normal things together; accepting that they weren't waiting for anything to crawl out of the ground and drag them all back under again. There was a hint of angry determination about that feeling some days - as if they were all going to have fun if it killed them. But Steve supposes that's going to be normal for a while as well.

He's picking up Robin. He doesn't know how Eddie's getting there. He'd probably been cleared to drive at this point but sitting upright and using his arms that much was a lot for him while he was still healing. He doesn't know if Wayne's making him do his stretches. Steve knows how much he hates them. Half of Steve is determined to try his best to get their friendship back, if only so he can make sure Eddie isn't letting that slip, because it's only going to be harder in the long run. He can't let Eddie jeopardize his healing because Steve fucked up.

He barely gets into Joyce's backyard before he's being cornered by a whirlwind in a baseball cap, tugging him none too gently towards the fence. Where Dustin attempts to protectively box him in while still being significantly shorter than him.

"Is it true?" he asks. He grabs Steve's wrist and the sound he makes when he finds his hand completely bare is sharp enough that Steve's protest at being manhandled dies in his throat. "Eddie said that you -" Dustin's still holding his arm, still squeezing. "He said you broke up."

Hearing someone else say it is horrible in an entirely new and unexpected way. Steve manages not to look across the yard, at where he'd first seen Eddie talking to Jonathan and tried to be normal about it. He thinks he might have failed at that though, because Dustin looks genuinely upset and he feels guilty about that too.

"I didn't expect him to -" Make it so public? Tell everyone straight away? Force Steve to come into this unprepared? All of the above? "Yeah, I guess we did."

"But why?" Dustin asks desperately. "You were so - you never even fought. How could you just let him leave?"

"I didn't exactly have any other choice. I'm not going to keep him at my house if he doesn't want to stay. What was I supposed to do?" They could have planned it out properly, but instead this had come out of nowhere and they never had a chance to decide what Eddie was going to say. Steve doesn't even know the fake reason they'd fake broken up. He wants to be angry about that but instead he's just miserable.

"Work it out, like couples do, Steve." It's more hopeful than chiding, as if Dustin thinks there's a chance. And now Steve feels like a disappointment too. There's an awkward moment where Dustin scans the garden, then shuffles Steve closer to the fence, giving the impression he's about to share a secret. "I don't think Eddie's done this before, the whole relationship thing, and if he panicked and did something stupid, or said something stupid, I don't think he meant it."

This is worse, this is officially worse.

"Look, Dustin, Eddie's been through a lot, so just give him some space, ok. If only for today. He doesn't deserve to be quizzed about this after everything and to be honest, neither do I. Just let the dust settle at least, ok?"

Dustin looks physically pained by the request, by the idea of leaving this alone, and Steve knows how hard this is for him; Dustin always wants to fix things, he always wants to understand. But sometimes things need to be a mess for a while.

"Just this once," Steve pleads, and something about his face must look as miserable as he feels because Dustin exhales, looking both too young and too old at the same time.

"Ok, but I need you to know that I'm not fucking ok with this, Steve."

"Language," he says, instinctively.

"Yeah, no, you can have me respecting your relationship drama or not using bad language, you can't have both."

Steve won't laugh, he won't. God this kid is going to be the death of him. He slaps a hand on the back of Dustin's head and shakes him, pulls him in for a second, so he has an excuse to squeeze something.

"Your objection has been noted," he says and hopes it sounds like thank you.

It only gets worse from there though. Because of course everyone already knows. You tell one kid you tell them all. Lucas comes over to quietly stand by him, offering absent gossip about what happened to what was left of the basketball team. Which, it turned out, had to replace nearly their whole line-up to avoid the rumors and judgment of the rest of the school. He fills him in on how Max is doing too. Apparently, she's exhausted and angry, frustrated at her slow progress, but still coming home soon.

"If she needs any help, anything I can do, for either of you, just let me know, man. I'll be there."

Lucas smiles at him, as if he never expected anything different.

"I know, thanks, Steve. I know she can be a little...ok, a lot, reluctant to accept help."

"Help, moral support, someone to scream at when the world won't stop shitting on you. Tell her all of the above apply." That's never going to change, not for any of the kids, not for Steve.

"I know she appreciates it, man, even when she says no."

Steve gets it, he does, he's the same way. Sometimes it helps to know the crash mat is there, just in case you fall on your face. And boy does he know what that feels like at this point.

He doesn't want to bring the mood down though, so he does a circuit of the party, while carefully avoiding Eddie doing the same thing. He talks to Joyce, her expression so pained around the small talk that he knows Will must have either told her or she'd overheard one of them talking. He exchanges awkward greetings with Hopper. He submits to Nancy's sad expression and awkward shoulder squeeze, then her desperate attempt to change the subject by talking about a study she read about trauma in rats. He's not sure if it helps or not but it's definitely distracting.

Robin swoops in just as Steve is witnessing Erica miss not one but two perfect openings to say something cutting to him and wonders if the situation is really that bad. Surely if anyone would tell it to him straight she will. But instead she's clearly restraining herself and that's depressing in a way he doesn't know what to do with.

"So, the situation is pretty bad," Robin offers, transferring food from her plate to his, which he suddenly notices has probably been empty for a while. She glares across the yard at Eddie, and Steve has no idea if he catches her looking because he's looking at her instead. "You look kind of devastated by the way, according to literally everyone here. So good job selling it."

"Isn't that the point?" he says, a little bitterly.

"Yeah, but I don't think Eddie expected you to sell it so well. He looks like a kicked puppy right now."

"Which is ironic, since I'm pretty sure I'm the puppy he kicked."

"That was literally going to be my next line," she huffs and he can hear the disappointment.

"Like I told Dustin, it'll be fine." Steve ignores the fact that he doesn't sound fine, no one expects him to be, which helps. "I'll mope for a while -"

"An appropriate mourning period," Robin agrees.

"Don't call it a mourning period."

"An appropriate post-break-up funk?" she suggests instead.

"Don't call it a funk either - I'll mope for a while and then we'll be friends again."

"Will you?" she asks, as if part of her wants to make sure.

"If I have anything to say about it." Because he refuses to let his own stupidity, his own stupidity and his own feelings that got out of hand, ruin one of the best friendships he has.

"I mean, it doesn't seem fair to force it while you're hurting."

He winces.

"Don't phrase it like that."

"Like what?"

"Like it was real," he says stiffly. "It wasn't real."

"I think it was real to you, at the end. I mean, if it had been me -" Robin stops, stops and stares at her plate with a tight frown, as if she's thinking about it. "Well, I probably wouldn't be at a party. I'd be in my bed listening to sad songs on repeat and swearing off wearing jewelry forever. Crying about my stupid life choices. You'd be there, obviously, I'm not sure I could have a breakdown about my fake relationship without you."

Steve thinks that sounds pretty good actually, he can't help but wonder if that's still an option.

"Honestly, I'm still mad that he took the ring back, even though it was his. I've never actually worn anything from someone I was dating. It was kind of nice, is that weird?"

Robin shakes her head when he looks at her, expression sort of quietly crushed and that suddenly feels less like a fun little aside for his month-long fake relationship and more something he should have kept to himself.

"We could buy you a new one?" Robin suggests, with a hopeful look, it disappears when she gets a look at his face. "But it wouldn't be the same, I get it, stupid thing to say. Why are we so good at directing the drama onto ourselves?"

"Just lucky I guess."

"No, don't say that, we do not need you pulling in any more crazy shenanigans like the worst adventure magnet in the world."

"I'm doing my best," Steve tells her. "The universe doesn't bend to my whims, unfortunately."

Robin opens her mouth to say something else, only to shut it when someone moves into view and Steve doesn't even have to look up from the leather sleeve to know who it is. He's not prepared for it, but it was kind of stupid to think that Eddie wouldn't want to talk about this eventually.

He looks up and he's not sure what he's going to say because the first thing he registers is the way Eddie's holding himself stiffly, the way there's a faint tightness to his jaw, the scarred side a little less mobile than the other.

Steve doesn't say a word, he just kicks out a chair and reaches for Eddie's elbows, easy like they haven't been avoiding each other for four days.

"You're still supposed to be taking breaks from standing. What did the damn doctor tell you?"

Eddie goes where he's guided, reluctantly, and halfway through a word before Steve's look quiets him. He sits down, leaning back into the plastic with a faint sound that tells Steve he'd overdone it, because he's an idiot. He sets an elbow on the arm, breathing with his eyes shut for a second and Steve can feel Robin asking whether he wants her to stay.

At his look she takes both their plates and drifts off, before he's certain if it's entirely wise.

"Are you ok?" Steve asks.

Eddie makes a disgruntled noise.

"I'm pretty sure I don't deserve you worrying about me right now," he says, without opening his eyes.

"Yeah, well tough shit, since I'm going to worry about you anyway. You should have been in a chair at least, not mingling without sitting down for half the afternoon."

Eddie looks at him then, pale through his hair, a pinch at the bridge of his nose. He doesn't look any different, he's still just Eddie, all freckles and untidy bangs and restless hands, the softness of his mouth pulled into an uncertain frown. He's just someone that Steve knows he wants to kiss now, which is a little unbearable. Whatever Eddie's looking for in his face he must not find it, because he breathes out and it sounds a lot like a sigh.

"I'm sorry," he says at last. But because Steve is not entirely sure which part he's sorry for he says nothing. "In hindsight, breaking up right before we were all due to meet up and spend a shitload of time together, not my best choice."

The words sound far too real out loud.

"Yeah, I'm feeling that," Steve agrees. "The awkwardness has been a real kicker today."

"If it's any consolation they think it's my fault." Eddie doesn't look happy about that, he looks like he's having the worst day ever.

It's not a consolation at all, because Eddie's not to blame for any of this.

"I told you to tell them it was a mutual decision."

Eddie gives a dry laugh and a slow blink as he lets his eyes wander the yard.

"Yeah, turns out no one's buying that, so it just makes me sound like the asshole who broke your heart. Maybe I should have let the one of us with actual relationship experience handle this part."

"Jesus." Steve, who's very much still stuck on 'the asshole who broke your heart,' pinches the bridge of his nose, before eventually pushing a chair out and sitting down as well. He guesses they're talking about it now.

"I was going to just keep my head down and let it blow over, act like nothing was wrong." Eddie stops to pull a hand through his hair. "But I gotta be real with you, you look fucking miserable and I have not been handling that well. I kind of hate it, to be honest. Also, I've been feeling like a total asshole about the way I left, after everything you did for me." The hand comes out of his hair, only to drag down his face.

"You didn't owe me anything, Eddie," Steve says gently.

The hand swings away from Eddie's face to gesture aggressively at the empty space between them.

"I owed you more than being an ungrateful dick and leaving the moment things got difficult. You looked after me for almost a month, Steve. I don't think I'd even be sane right now without you."

Steve wants to ask why he left at all, wants to ask what 'difficult' even means, whether he did something wrong, or if Eddie just got bored of pretending. The idea that Steve might have ruined their whole friendship because he couldn't let go. Because he got attached, like he always does, he wanted it to be real - and Eddie must have known that, it's the only thing that makes sense.

"I was the one who roped you into something you didn't want, Eddie," Steve reminds him. "I kept telling myself we could fix it when you were on your feet again, when everyone stopped commenting on it. But you were right, we should have ended it a while ago." It's clear by Eddie's face that the words hit, which Steve doesn't think is really fair, since he'd been the one to do it. "Or at least talked about it."

That one had been on Steve, because he'd just never brought it up to Eddie again, even when people reminded him, even when Robin pushed on the topic and he instinctively shut it down.

But Eddie's already shaking his head.

"No, don't take that one. I was the one who pulled out with no warning, you didn't deserve that. Literally the minute I was in any shape to run away that's what I did."

Not from everyone, Steve noticed, just from him.

"So maybe I deserve the way everyone is looking at me right now." It's not a question, Eddie genuinely believes it

Steve can't let him take the blame for any of this, he won't.

"Don't say that, it's not true. I get that you're the one that - that you were the one that was getting hurt by this the longer it went on. It was my mistake that started everything and put you in the middle of something you didn't want. I don't blame you for getting sick of pretending."

Eddie winces and Steve knows immediately that he'd phrased that wrong. The faint laugh that comes out of Eddie doesn't sound like he finds this funny at all.

"It wasn't exactly hard, Steve," Eddie says. "You're easy to be around. But I don't want to fight over this. As much as I love Wayne it hasn't been the same. He thinks it's my fault too by the way. But he hasn't even been mad about it, I can tell he thinks I'm punishing myself enough as it is, especially now he's seen you. I think he was looking forward to inviting you round to watch some miscellaneous sporting event or something together." He looks back at their friends, and Steve thinks he's trying to find Wayne among them. He's standing next to Hopper, engaging in that weird non-verbal communication that men sometimes have around grills. But then Eddie is looking at him again, letting the chair arm take his weight so he can lean closer. "Steve, I hate this, I mean I really fucking hate this. I feel like we were genuinely friends for a while, and granted we got there under the weirdest circumstances but I really want that back right now. So even though I fake broke up with you and fake broke your heart, can we maybe tell people we worked through it and realized we're better as friends. You've done that twice now, third time's the charm eh?"

Steve can't help wincing at that because, yeah, he kind of does make a habit of that doesn't he?

There's something not just hopeful but quietly desperate in Eddie's face and Steve realizes that as hurt and confused as he is right now, Eddie wants this fixed as much as he does. All he has to do is say yes, all he has to do is agree. He doesn't even think it would be hard. He'll invite Eddie next time there's a movie night, make a show of it being a little awkward for a while, then they'd - he nearly thinks 'go back to the way it was,' but it occurs to Steve that a lot of the things they did, a lot of the affection they allowed themselves was part of the lie and he hates it all over again. He doesn't want that.

"Or -" Steve's not entirely sure what he's going to say until he says it. "Or we get back together."

"What?" The word comes out like a cough, Eddie's eyes startle-wide and fixed on him.

"We get back together, try and make it work, stop pretending." Steve realizes absently that this isn't fixing a friendship, this is the stupidest possible way to ask someone out ever.

"Steve -"

"I miss you," Steve says, the words are so hard to get out but so easy once they're finally there. He wonders if he's doing something really stupid, something that's going to break things further. He can't seem to stop though.

Eddie's head tips forward, a stunned sort of confusion to the tilt of it and the sudden wideness of his eyes, as if he thought he'd heard that wrong.

But once Steve's started he can't stop.

"I miss you just being around, I miss watching movies with you, I miss your stupid jokes. I miss making you breakfast and watching you write a million notes and reading me things you think are working. I miss seeing your face in the morning, I miss the way you laugh, I miss our stupid book club, and tripping over your pile of books next to the couch." It's too much, he knows it's too much but he can't make it stop. "I miss the way you looked at me."

"Steve -" Eddie's voice wavers, but Steve needs to get this out before he says whatever it is he has to say.

"We were dating for over a month and you didn't even kiss me." He can't help the way that sounds, something quietly desperate hidden in the tone of it and it might as well be a confession. "Maybe that's where we went wrong."

A noise cracks its way out of Eddie's throat, a breath coming out wrong.

"Did you want me to?" he asks. It's a quiet thing which sounds too weak to be hopeful, as if he thought he'd missed the chance.

"Didn't you want to?" Steve asks, because he thinks that's fair. He thinks that's the crux of the whole problem, in a nutshell. Did Eddie want to kiss him? Just because he's interested in guys, doesn't mean he's interested in Steve.

Eddie tries to lean into him too quickly, and at the wrong angle, hissing when it pulls at something that isn't quite healed yet. Steve catches the hand he moves to press against the bottom of his ribs and holds it with him, warm pressure against tight scar tissue.

"Easy, damn it, stop lurching about, you don't want to pull anything that's freshly healed -"

"Every day," Eddie hisses, and it takes Steve a second to realize he's answering his question, cheeks hot, eyes refusing to look at him properly. "You have no idea, Steve, I was going crazy."

Steve would have moved his hand but Eddie's own is curled half over it now, fingertips digging in, the muscle of his waist still twitching, so he doesn't, he holds him and tries not to feel anything about it, fails utterly.

He becomes aware, suddenly, that everyone is watching them. They're pretending not to but most of them are really bad at it, not a single decent actor among them. No one's close enough to hear their conversation but they're obviously invested in what's going on between them. Even if the only one who has the whole story is Robin.

"I didn't think you even liked - Steve, if I'd thought for one second you meant any of it for real."

"It kind of snuck up on me," Steve admits.

Eddie's weak huff of laughter is fair, he supposes.

"Well that's ironic considering it's me. I don't think I've ever snuck up on a single thing in my life."

"Yeah, well, if I did mean it, could we try again? Do it properly this time?"

All the air leaves Eddie in a rush, and it's clear he hadn't been expecting it, for all they'd been sliding there the whole time.

"God, you really mean that. You want - are you asking me out, Steve?" Eddie's smiling, but there's still more disbelief than enthusiasm in the question. "For real?"

Eddie Munson is impossible, and Steve will swear he's doing this on purpose now.

"I'm trying to, you're making it surprisingly difficult, and I don't exactly have a lot of experience with how to date guys, ok."

"Funny, because if you divide your experience by mine that's about all we have."

"Don't give me math problems when I'm trying to fix our relationship," Steve protests and Eddie snorts laughter, the tension finally cracking for something fond.

"Steve."

"Eddie?" The question is still there and Steve can't remember the last time he wanted an answer this badly, it feels like he's going insane. "Do you want to do this with me for real?"

Eddie shakes hair out of his face, stares at him while a sound rolls around in his throat.

"Yes." He gets out finally, belatedly. "Obviously my answer is yes, Steve. Did you pay literally any attention while I was living with you?"

Steve exhales and it comes out sounding more like a punch.

"Ok, but you took your ring back and I think I went a little crazy, just so you know. Almost six weeks wearing that damn thing and you took it back like it was nothing."

Eddie doesn't even try and hide what that does to his face. Steve knows he hadn't meant it like that, he's not being cruel he's just trying to make a point.

"Did you want it back?" Eddie asks quietly.

Steve's not expecting that, or the way it's offered, uncertain like Eddie really doesn't know what he's doing here.

"I think I technically stole it last time," Steve reminds him. "When you were in a coma."

"Doesn't mean I didn't like seeing you wearing it," Eddie admits. "When I eventually woke up."

"Really?" Steve remembers mostly worrying that Eddie was going to be pissed and he was going to have to break it to get it off

"You think anyone has ever worn anything of mine before, Steve? That was never going to happen. I'm happy to have a target on my own back but I'm not gonna put that on anyone else."

"I'm pretty good at being a target," Steve reminds him.

"Don't say that," Eddie says, and there's something softly hurt in the words. "That's not what I meant. This isn't like me giving you a hellfire shirt." He curls the hand wearing the ring into a fist. "This is a ring everyone knows is mine, it's one of the first things I ever bought for myself and it didn't even fit properly for a year. I know it's five seconds away from breaking every time I move it, but seeing it on you was...it was a lot."

"You didn't really give it to me in the first place," Steve reminds him. "But, to be honest, the last few weeks, I wasn't exactly worried about taking it off."

Eddie's strangled noise is determined when his hands meet, fingers and thumb twisting the ring into a slow spiral until it slides up his finger and off.

"Yeah, well I'm giving it to you now. In the full knowledge that seeing it on your finger is going to drive me insane and this time it's going to be so much worse." He cuts his eyes to the side, bites at his lip, as if debating whether to continue the thought. "Because I won't have to pretend that you wanted to wear it."

Steve takes the ring from him, immediately pushes it down over his finger and finds he doesn't really care if it gets stuck this time.

Someone in the backyard makes a noise, some breathless sound of excitement and triumph that's quickly shushed and slapped into submission. Steve has a horrible feeling it was Dustin. He's pretty sure if he looks up again everyone is going to pretend not to be looking at them.

"Oh my god," Eddie says thinly, pushing his hands into the pockets of his jacket and exhaling hard enough that he visibly winces.

"What?" Steve has a moment to briefly panic.

"I think I literally just realized we're dating for real," Eddie says, too fast.

"We kind of already were, for like a month, we just didn't notice."

"Yeah and it was awful. You were constantly touching me but I couldn't kiss you, I couldn't tell you how stupidly pretty you were, I couldn't look at you in the shower -" He realizes what he'd said immediately, looking briefly panicked even as Steve can feel a smile opening on his face. "Forget I said that."

"Absolutely not," Steve decides.

"You didn't play fair, Steve, you kept holding my hand and calling me pet names and actually acting like they were all just things we did. It felt so easy for you and it started messing with my head. You made it feel real and I couldn't - I couldn't let that go on, it was killing me. The idea that I was dating a beautiful boy - don't even look at me like that, you know what your damn face does - and everyone was happy for me. Which was all kinds of awful, because I really liked you. Which I think is stupidly, blindingly obvious at this point - and, yeah, knowing it was fake all got too much, to be honest."

Steve doesn't remember calling him pet names, but to be honest that sounds like exactly the sort of thing he'd get into the habit of without noticing.

"I'm sorry too," Steve admits. "For not saying anything. For not realizing that I wanted to kiss you."

Eddie does an odd little sway in his chair, the next words out of his mouth strangled.

"You're killing me, Steve. I expected today to be, like, the third worst day of my life. I think I had a speech planned about not wanting the whole thing to ruin our friendship." His hand scratches at his knee, rings bright against the darkness of his jeans. "Was planning to go home and get drunk and try really hard to get over you after. So this is…this is a lot." He tips his head back as he says it, risks getting stuck like that for the drama of it, and Steve likes him so much it hurts.

He's reaching over before he knows he's going to do it, pressing Eddie's fingers flat - and they're so warm, so alive in the fading sunshine. They twist and slip between his own immediately, grip him tight.

"I get why you felt you needed to leave," Steve tells him.

"What I did was stupid," Eddie admits. "We were friends, I shouldn't have just left like that. I should have - shit - had some balls for once. I should have asked if there was anything between us, would have saved us a messy breakup. It was my first but it kind of sucked exactly as much as I expected. I wrote sad music about it and everything. I was a mess over you and it hadn't even been real." There's a pinched sort of amusement to his face, the pink scar at his jaw making his smile crooked, and his mouth is the softest thing Steve has ever seen. "At least I didn't think it was. God, you have no idea."

Steve wants to kiss him, wants to kiss him so badly but he refuses to do it at a goddamn Sunday barbecue with every single one of their friends watching.

"Do you want to come home with me after?" he asks quietly, already knowing the next few hours are going to be unbearable but he can't bring himself to care, because Eddie is smiling at him and he'd missed that so much. "I know most of your stuff is gone -"

"Yeah," Eddie says, like he doesn't even have to finish. "Yeah, I'd really like to go home with you."

Chapter Text

Robin gets a lift home with Nancy. Even though Steve protests that he's perfectly capable of taking her home, since he's taking Dustin, Lucas and Erica anyway. They already have to drive separately since it turns out Eddie did bring the van - which Steve is still kind of mad at him for, complaining that he shouldn't really be driving yet, to Eddie's obvious amusement. He knows he's being overprotective, knows that Eddie's almost fully healed, there are no bandages anymore and the skin on his chest is tight and new. But he also knows that the muscle there is still tender, that turning is clearly still not always comfortable, and standing for long periods wears him out. Steve knows all this because he'd been checking up on him the last week, during the break-up that wasn't actually a break-up. Steve hadn't been stalking him or anything, he'd just been asking around. Making sure someone was taking care of him, that he was taking care of himself. And, ok, to an outside observer the veering wildly between obsessive worrying about Eddie's well-being and general pining, might have looked like someone who wasn't taking a break-up well.

So maybe the others giving Eddie a hard time had been partly Steve's fault, with his constant check-ins to make sure he was ok and Eddie's obvious radio silence, that must have felt a lot like 'pretending the whole thing never happened' on one side and 'extreme over-investment' on the other. Yeah, Steve probably wouldn't have thought it was a mutual break-up either.

Eddie still gives him a look as he herds the kids to the curb, eyebrows pinched, hand nervous at his mouth, as if he thinks the thirty minute drive to drop everyone off is going to be long enough for Steve to change his mind and realize he'd made a terrible mistake. Because sometimes Eddie can be kind of an idiot.

Steve gets in the car and gives the kids a significant look through the window. His eyes keep being drawn back to the ring on his finger, where he holds the wheel, he can feel the familiar snug grip of it and realizes that it's on there for real now. That he'd asked for it and Eddie had given it to him.

He resists all efforts to get him to talk about his relationship, ignores Dustin gushing about his feelings on them getting back together, while Lucas tries desperately to talk about anything else. Erica mutters under her breath about idiots making things complicated for no reason and stares out of the window for the entire drive.

He doesn't flat-out evict them from his car once they reach their destinations but it's a close thing. Then he drives back to his place and finds Eddie already there, leaning back against his van in a way that kind of looks like it wants to be cool and appealing but his stomach muscles are clearly suffering for it. It's probably not the best moment for Steve to realize that the way he feels about Eddie is far bigger and more complicated than he'd thought, but that's when it hits him. He wonders how he ever imagined that pretending to date him wasn't going to come back to bite him on the ass. Eddie Munson is too big to contain, no matter where you try and fit him Steve thinks he's always going to make a little of your space his own as well.

He doesn't bother to lock the car, slipping out and heading straight for his door, trying to act as casual as he can when Eddie drifts in behind him, all quiet clink of metal and shoes scuffing on the step as Steve briefly forgets how to use keys entirely. He eventually manages to get in, all but falling through the door, a trailing hand catches the edge of a belt loop, dragging Eddie in and through as he shuts the door behind them, before pushing him as gently as he can bear against the back of it.

Eddie's half laughing, and Steve can't decide if it's nerves or amusement at Steve's impatience. Steve tosses the keys sideways, hears them clatter against a bowl, or maybe a photo frame, he's not sure which and doesn't care. Because then he's leaning in, hands sliding under Eddie's hair on either side, feeling the warmth of it against the back of his fingers before he takes the last step - that's more of a lean because they're so close already.

Eddie says his name and Steve crushes it back into his mouth.

There's no moment to adjust, no introduction, they're just kissing, and it feels like he's been waiting far too long to do it. Eddie's mouth is soft and warm, and he smiles even while Steve's trying to kiss him, a breathy sound escaping as they separate and then meet again. Eddie catches his waist and tugs him in tight, until Steve's treading on his shoes, thigh pressed to thigh, mouth pushed roughly open in a way that feels just on the edge of desperate. Steve's not complaining, he's feeling a little of that himself. He doesn't know why he wasn't thinking about this all the time. Doesn't know why he spent so long panicking about what he was feeling and what people did or didn't know about them, when they could have been doing this instead.

It's been forever since kissing has felt this new, or this exciting. Though maybe it's not the kissing, maybe it's the big hands spread on his waist, covering more skin than they ever have before, the flat plane of chest against his own, or the way Eddie's jaw is rough, the way he's solid and heavy where Steve holds him. The same moves in a different flavor, an unexpected strawberry milkshake after years of vanilla.

The thought makes him laugh into Eddie's mouth, a soft vibration that knocks them apart.

"What?" Eddie wants to know, and it sounds thready, his lower lip is red and wet, eyes dazed, bangs crooked at the edge, and this version of him might be Steve's favorite so far.

"Strawberry milkshake," Steve mutters.

It makes no sense but Eddie doesn't seem to care, or maybe he even gets it a little, because his laugh is so low in his throat it sounds like a sigh. It takes Steve a second to realize he's leant back against the door in a way that probably isn't comfortable though.

"God, I'm sorry." Steve straightens, hands on Eddie's elbows so he can help him straighten too. "I should have let you sit down."

Eddie shakes his head, the movement a touch frantic.

"No, no, I'm absolutely one hundred percent down with the exact chain of events so far." He uses the hold Steve has on him to tug him back in, kiss him again, then again, only to curse as if he can't stop and catch his face in both hands. "You drive me crazy, you know that right, I lost track of the number of times I told myself not to touch you."

"You still left though," Steve complains, which isn't what he meant to say at all. "The stupid house has been so empty."

The kiss that comes on the tail of that is an apology, and maybe the kiss that comes after is too. Eddie's fingers are in his hair, careful at first but then less so when Steve urges him away from the wood and back across the living room.

Kissing while walking is a really bad idea and is going to end up with them going over the furniture. But Steve can't find it in himself to complain. It feels like forever since anyone's wanted to kiss him this badly, since they've kissed him like they never want to stop.

"You have no idea what you did to me in this house. Do you know how hard it was not to kiss you? I mean, I like to think I have a pretty good track record of not kissing people, given the circumstances, but you - you, Steve, were especially challenging."

Steve can't help the laugh that pulls out of him, because he's thinking of all the moments between them that had felt so comfortable and so easy, the thought of losing them had been unbearable and he hadn't imagined for one moment that Eddie might have been experiencing them too.

"I mean, you did a really good job, obviously, because I had no idea." It comes out more frustrated than he means it to, and he squeezes the hands he has on Eddie's waist.

"You spent the entirety of Poltergeist 2 playing with my hair," Eddie counters, easily, as if that was a moment that had stuck. "And you weren't even actually my boyfriend at the time, you asshole."

"I thought you were asleep," Steve admits.

"That was entirely self-defense," Eddie explains. "Nancy Wheeler was in the room. Do you have any idea how crazy that felt?"

Granted, he'll admit to himself that maybe it had been a shade more indulgent than platonic comfort would normally allow. Eddie's hair had been almost impossible to keep his fingers out of since he pestered him to use conditioner. But he also knows that he wouldn't have touched any of his other friends like that, no matter how bonded they were by being thrown into life or death situations together. Eddie had been different. Eddie had been...Jesus, Eddie had been his, and even thinking it feels like something he should feel guilty about.

"Nance has always been really good at seeing how things fit together." Steve thinks he should be embarrassed about the way he'd phrased that. They've bumped into the edge of the couch and Eddie is looking away from him, lower lip between his teeth, a laugh vibrating in his throat. "Don't," Steve says firmly.

"Didn't say a word," Eddie says, which in this case is the truth.

"Dude, you didn't have to."

"You're really going to stand there and call your boyfriend dude?"

"It was an affectionate dude."

Eddie laughs out loud this time, as if he doesn't believe him, and Steve twists them around so Eddie's balanced on the arm, no longer following where he guides him.

"It was dude in an appreciative way," Steve adds, because he kind of loves the way Eddie looks so affronted and so fucking amused at the same time. "Dude as a term of endearment."

The grin goes sharp and messy.

"I can't believe that this is the treatment I get, literally two hours into our relationship -"

"I don't know what I'm doing." It's more honest than Steve means to be, but he wants this so much. The idea of messing it up is unbearable. "Eddie, you're going to have to give me some tips here if you really want to date me. I've only ever dated girls. I've never done anything else with a guy. No matter what people say about the locker rooms post game, or the jokes about dick-measuring and circle jerks, the reality is pretty boring. It involves far more in the way of sweaty gym socks, posturing and repression."

Eddie clearly doesn't know whether to find this sad or hilarious.

"I'm pretty sure dating is dating," Eddie tells him, setting his hands on Steve's waist, thumbs careful where he knows there are new scars under his shirt. "And, to be honest, if you ignore the fact that I was mostly bedridden and incapable of doing anything with my arms or chest for half of it - well I think we've already established that the fake dating still felt enough like real dating to fuck me up a little."

"I'm sorry," Steve says, and he means it.

"Stop apologizing," Eddie grumbles, two fingers jabbing Steve gently in the middle of the chest. "You might have been the one that started it but I could have stopped it any time and I didn't."

"Why didn't you?" Steve asks.

"That feels like a really dumb question," Eddie says. "Because I feel like I was so obvious about so much. But I'm not going to pretend it was for any reason other than I'd just been through the worst few days of my life - I'm not counting the coma obviously because I was asleep for that - I'd been through the worst experience I'd ever been through and then I wake up and I find none other than Steve Harrington at my bedside." He sets a hand on his chest as if he wants to fake a swoon before he realizes that Steve is holding him too close. "With pudding cups and a bag full of books, and your stupid, stupid smile."

"It's not stupid," Steve protests.

Eddie's answering noise disputes that, which Steve thinks is rude of him.

"It is awful, truly, you wield it uncaring of bystanders. Of which I was one, lying feeble in my hospital bed. So I'm faced with you, smiling and wearing my ring, and I was definitely feeling like I'd come really close to never coming back at all. So, yeah, maybe I wanted to pretend that you were interested in me and you'd been waiting for me to wake up, and everyone was cool with us being together. Maybe I wanted to think about that rather than bleeding out a whole dimension away from home."

Steve can feel the way his hands tighten. Because he'd spent a lot of time not thinking about that too.

"And maybe the thought of us admitting to everyone that it wasn't real was just too fucking much for my one day out of a coma brain to handle - and the rest of it was - shit, I decided that I wasn't going to mention it until you did, but -" Eddie stops, sighs and rolls his eyes like he's being ridiculous, but Steve can see that it's covering up something that can't be dismissed half as easily.

"But?"

"But then you didn't, Steve. You didn't bring it up at all, you just let everyone keep believing that we were dating. You never corrected anyone, you never suggested that we stop doing it and it'd been two weeks at least. I'd started lying to myself like an idiot, knowing I was going to fuck up and say something I couldn't take back and bring the whole thing crashing down." He can't seem to resist the gesture he makes at that, though he looks far from happy about it, forcing his hands still as if he thinks they'll incriminate him somehow. "And obviously the longer it went on the worse the crash was going to be because believe me I was lying to myself a lot. But then you called me babe." The last part comes out flat, the look Steve gets through hair accusing. "And I realized I was in way too deep already. That I was in serious danger of drowning right there on your damn couch."

"You've called me babe before," Steve argues. "You call me a lot of things." He's fairly certain Eddie had called him princess the last time he'd made them both breakfast. Which he'd had a lot of feelings about that maybe he could have taken a closer look at at the time.

"S'different," Eddie says at last, with a look at Steve as if he should know why.

"How is it different?"

"I knew you didn't mean it." The words are casual enough but Steve can hear the empty space underneath, too genuine to be replaced by a joke.

Steve lifts his hand, turning it so Eddie can see where his ring is back on his finger.

"I think we've established by now that maybe I did."

Eddie reaches up and catches his fingers halfway through the demonstration, thumb rolling on the metal that's probably warm from Steve's hand. He lets their fingers tangle before drawing both their hands down.

"Yeah, but crucially, I didn't know that at the time, and to be fair neither did you, which didn't help with my minor panic attack in the bathroom at 4am." There's an awkward shift, Eddie straightening and then relaxing to work stiffness out of his muscles.

Steve takes more of his weight, which gets him a soft noise and another kiss, this one much slower to break than the last.

Eddie still has a bed here if he wants it, for all that half the time they'd decided to share the couch long into the early hours of the morning. It wouldn't even have been the first time that Steve had fallen asleep in the downstairs guest room with him, Eddie knocked in tight against his shoulder.

But they'd never both gone upstairs together, they'd never shared Steve's bed. He knows that he wants to now, he wants that more than anything. He wants to see Eddie sprawled out in his room and the thought brings with it a whole host of other thoughts. Mostly about how he doesn't know what he's doing.

Steve gently draws him up from his perch on the couch arm, incapable of doing anything but diving in head first.

"Come upstairs," he says.

Eddie's still for a second, as if he's trying to work out exactly what Steve means by that. But maybe it doesn't have to mean anything. Maybe it can just be sleeping together.

"Are you sure?" The words come out quietly, a little questioning, a little thin.

Steve knows, if nothing else, that he wants to know how Eddie's healing, he wants to see for himself that he's been taking care of his wounds, anything else, anything else they can worry about tomorrow. He just wants Eddie here.

"You want to pretend we haven't already slept together, like, half a dozen times?" Steve says with a smile.

Eddie's protest is somewhere between a cough and a whine.

"Not like that -" He sounds accusing, as if Steve is being suggestive on purpose. He still follows when Steve takes the stairs, not as slow as he had been a week ago, the way he walks is more comfortable, if not as easy as it had looked before the end of the world. "You can't be this suggestive, it's not fair, you kissed me for the first time not even twenty minutes ago." The reminder is strangely sweet, and Eddie doesn't resist when Steve reels him in to kiss again.

"You're not getting any more than that," he says with a smile, even though he thinks that if Eddie asked he'd cave immediately - no, that's a lie, all he has to do is feel the sigh against his mouth to know he'd give him anything he wants. "You're still recovering and it's been a really long week for both of us."

Eddie seems amused by that, and a bit disappointed. Steve has to wonder exactly what he'd been expecting.

He doesn't bother turning on the main light in his room, flicks on the one beside the bed instead. Then he strips off his shirt and jeans and puts shorts on, before stretching out on cold sheets. He's left enough space on the other side to be obvious. But there's still a fluttery warmth in his belly when Eddie slides off his rings and leaves them on the top of Steve's dresser, bright against the wood, collected with his stuff like they belong there.

"Clothes in the first drawer if you want to borrow something."

Eddie slides the drawer open curiously, spends long enough fingering his way through Steve's clothes that he suspects Eddie's looking for something in particular. The quiet noise of satisfaction suggests that he'd found it, and Steve watches him slowly strip in the dark, scars pink where they curl all the way up his left side, half his stomach and chest, then the bend of his throat. They look more healed than they had the last time he saw them, but he still wants to touch, still wants to lay hands on them and feel for himself. He folds his hands on his stomach instead, watching as shoes come off next and then the clinking shift of jeans and chains left on his bedroom floor, before Eddie is laughing his way into Steve's swim team shirt, pulling his hair out of the collar. It's been too tight on Steve for a while, but it fits Eddie, and the familiar worn, gray-green cotton makes him smile.

For all the girls he's been with, none of them had ever worn any of his stuff. Eddie definitely shouldn't look so good in it, the softness and colors don't mute his edges but somehow make them more obvious. Steve can't help reaching out, slipping his fingers under the hem to touch warm skin and watching Eddie turn and grin over his shoulder at him. The letters of Hawkins stretch across his chest in a way Steve doubts anyone has seen before. Eddie makes being together feel so easy, he doesn't know why he was ever afraid.

Eddie doesn't bother with shorts, flops down beside him in his checkered boxers instead.

"You gonna join the swim team?" Steve asks curiously.

Eddie gives him a long look, mouth pressed forward into a pout, as if he's thinking about it.

"I'm fairly sure I could get across the pool in, like, under ten minutes easy."

Steve laughs on the other side of the bed.

"Under ten minutes, eh?"

"Oh easy. Though my chest muscles are currently still fucked, so you might have to rescue me if I sink halfway across."

Steve rolls over, rests a hand on Eddie's stomach, the cotton familiar under the sweep of his palm. He gives in to the feeling that's been building since they got here.

"Can I see you?"

Eddie's head shifts on the pillow to look at him.

"Did you miss getting your hands on me, Stevie?" he asks, sounding genuinely curious. But he does flip up the edge of the shirt, permission obvious.

"Don't tease me about this shit. I worried about you." Steve watches that hit in a way he doesn't intend, like the idiot hadn't expected it. "I worried if there was someone there with you, and if anyone was making you do your stretches. That you weren't overdoing it, trying to do too much shit yourself."

Eddie sighs when Steve's hand spreads carefully on his skin, though there's something apologetic to the sound, as if he knows the answer to that is not going to go down well.

"I maybe wasn't quite as good about any of that when you weren't around," he admits. By the look on his face after the words are out, he sees the way Steve feels about that clear enough. "In my defense I did something really stupid and broke up with the boy that I'm in - that I was seeing." Eddie laughs, fast and awkward. "Shit my brain keeps getting confused about what's fake and what isn't."

Steve wants to tell him that none of it's fake, not anymore. He shifts close enough that he can push the shirt all the way up. He realizes that it's different now, he can look at where the wounds are now out in the open, pink scar tissue and new skin, deep scores where he was never stitched but left to bleed and seal and then heal on his own, But Steve can also look at the smooth edge of Eddie's hips where his shorts have ridden down, the trail of dark hair that leads into the waistband, the ink of older tattoos, some of which escaped the bats and some that didn't. He can look at everything now and the low, quiet hum of arousal when he gets to touch doesn't scare him at all.

He pushes the shirt up a little higher, until he can touch the slope of Eddie's lower ribs, the concave below his breastbone.

"Steve?"

"Hmm."

Whatever Eddie was going to say trips around his mouth but never actually escapes, there's just a cracked catch of air and the slow fidget of Eddie's fingers where Steve has rolled closer. The scars are deep in places, left to heal next to gouges that were stitched and covered. Judging by the texture Eddie hasn't been putting his cream on either. It was supposed to help the skin heal, reduce the possibility of infection.

"You haven't been taking care of this," Steve accuses. It's gentle though, thumb sliding where the skin is hot and he knows from his own scars that there will be a mixture of places that are sensitive and places that feel almost numb, the layers of tissue growing thick to protect what had been torn open. Steve touches them all, listens to the soft sounds that drift from the top of the bed.

"I was, to start with, I ran out of the cream not long after I left. And it wasn't the same doing it myself." His hand fidgets against the bed again, like a part of him wants to pull the shirt down and cover himself, but he doesn't, he lets Steve touch him, even though he doesn't need to anymore. He lets Steve touch him just to be touched.

"How do they feel?" Steve asks.

"Ok, I mean I'm not thrilled about them - some of them feel ok, you know? But some of them just fucking ache all the time, like they're still half open."

"Yeah," Steve agrees, because some of his felt the same, never this bad but enough that he worried that he'd permanently fucked his body in some way he'd have to live with forever. Enough that he'd had a few tantrums in his room about it when no one was around. Which he feels so stupid about now, because Eddie got torn all the way open and Steve watched him knit himself back together, with screams and tears and laughter and the soft, flirtatious edge of a smile, and Steve fell like a meteor. There's no point denying it now.

"Where should I not touch?" he asks quietly. Because he doesn't want to overstep, he doesn't want to be too much, to risk ruining this so soon after he'd been given it.

Eddie sighs out a breath, even as his stomach muscles twitch and flutter under Steve's careful fingers.

"Nowhere," Eddie says. "You can touch wherever you want." It's quiet but easy, like there was never any other answer. There's just Eddie in his bed, exposed and marked in so many ways from the absolute hell they'd been through and so willing to be touched.

Steve spreads a gentle hand across his abdomen as he sets a knee down on the bed and slowly rises, leans down over him and Eddie is already cursing and lifting his mouth up to be kissed, no hesitation, like he's desperate for it. Steve dips long enough to do exactly that, a long sliding press that pulls a noise out of them both. He lets his fingers trail the uneven warmth, the raised edges and silky grooves all still so pink and close to the surface.

He doesn't know how much of it Eddie feels, but he makes soft noises under him, hands finally lifting from the sheets to hold Steve's waist, fingertips digging into the muscle. It's greedy enough that every touch to bare skin becomes a charged thing. Every one of Eddie's planes and angles pulling his hands in and Steve wants, he wants so fucking much.

"Steve." Eddie's hard in his underwear, Steve is too and maybe it would be easy to just let it happen. Maybe it would be perfect. But Eddie is trying to pull him down and Steve knows that will end badly.

"I'm pretty sure I shouldn't be crushing you right now," he says, voice staggering out of him but sharp enough to mean it. He doesn't want to risk hurting him, not today, not during this.

Eddie takes a breath.

"You can if you want to though," he offers, a breathy laugh shaking out after it. He almost seems embarrassed about how obviously aroused he is, when Steve's the same. Because they've made this thing between them real and now they're in bed together, it's really easy to imagine how good it would feel to just let it happen.

"Doctors said no strenuous activity." Steve remembers that much, is determined to remember it just in case he gets carried away. Which feels like a genuine worry right now.

"I've never done a strenuous activity in my life," Eddie protests. "In fact, I think I could be very zen, meditative even."

"You're going to be meditative if I touch your dick?" Steve asks, half because he's curious and half because he can't help it. It feels a little overwhelming to finally say it out loud, but he can't deny that he likes it.

Half a curse rattles out of Eddie's mouth, eyes closing even as Steve leans down and presses a smiling mouth to the corner of his jaw, feels it tip under the pressure, then turn into him.

"I think - I think I could. Shit, Steve, I'm trying really hard to be cool about this here." He's definitely having difficulty, and maybe they shouldn't be doing this, maybe Steve shouldn't be thinking about effectively having their first time be make-up sex while Eddie is still healing. But he doesn't want to stop touching either. He can't be sensible with Eddie in his bed, with Eddie's hair spread over his pillows, with Eddie looking like he wants nothing else but to be kissed.

"I really want to touch you," Steve says honestly.

"You already are touching me," Eddie points out, but his voice is strained, so Steve doesn't think he's helping at all. "Not sure I'd let anyone else at this point."

That doesn't make it easier for him either. Because, god, Steve wants.

"I'm trying to be good," he complains, watching Eddie stretch up to kiss him, in a way that's probably not great for his chest, but pressing him into the bed isn't an option right now either. "You're kind of a bad influence."

"So I've been told, maybe you shouldn't try so hard." Eddie leaves the words between one crush of mouth and the next, though Steve can feel the way he strains for it, sinking gently to meet him. "Maybe you should -"

"Maybe I should kiss my boyfriend?" Steve suggests.

"Jesus -" The next breath out of Eddie breaks, eyes briefly falling shut.

"You like that." Steve loves how obvious it is.

"Of course I do, it's true now, isn't it? You're stuck with me. You know the rules, you break it, you buy it."

"I didn't break you," Steve says, if anything it's the other way round.

"Cracked me straight down the middle," Eddie insists.

The sheets have warmed under them and Steve can't help finding Eddie's hand, threading their fingers together until there's a thumb dragging over the ring he's wearing, the ring Eddie gave him back.

"Steve, would you please -" Eddie bites his lip, as if he can't quite say it. "Have some pity, please, do you have any idea how many times I thought about this while you were floating through your damn house in those worn-thin shirts you wear to bed, tucking me in and making me breakfast and falling asleep on me. You made it so hard."

"Literally and figuratively." It feels really good to be able to tease him, to press close and kiss him and feel his sputtering annoyance, the way he kicks in the sheets at Steve being such a shit.

"Oh my god, shut up, that was my fucking line. But also, yes, you have no idea. You kept getting in the damn shower with me when I couldn't even stand on my own or lift my arms and your stupid catalog model underwear went completely see-through and you washed my hair and you know damn well that you made me hard the last time. Which is amazing considering I was fifty percent holes and pain medication. I nearly lost my mind."

"I remember, you insisted on showering by yourself after that." Steve kisses the corner of his mouth to ease the sting of the words. "Though I kind of get why now. Doesn't mean I wasn't convinced you were going to fall on your head without me."

"You were such a fucking nursemaid," Eddie grumbles. "And you know I kind of loved it, right? Though you're not allowed to tell anyone, that's boyfriend privileged information."

"Hmm," Steve agrees, because that's the confession that warms him all the way through. The one he doesn't expect, still half convinced he'd been too much some days. "If it's any consolation, I was trying really hard to be normal the first time you got naked for me but I think I was already doomed."

"Speaking of naked." Eddie carefully shuffles the shirt he's still wearing higher and Steve helps him take it the rest of the way, before tossing it off the bed.

It's easy to forget this is still new for him, that he hadn't thought about this before, not consciously at least, and suddenly it's the only thing he can think about. Having Eddie in his bed is unfamiliar, it's also exciting in a way nothing's been for years, but he's nervous too. Steve has no idea what he's doing and he kind of wants everything, even if he barely knows where to start.

"I've never done this before," he admits, and it's easy to be honest with Eddie. He still has a thumb sliding gently along the valley of a deep scar on Eddie's abdomen. It's hot and silky and his belly trembles every time Steve reaches the bottom, his pale throat swallowing and swallowing.

"But you want to?" It's quiet, and Steve hates that he needs to ask. Maybe he's been staring for too long, or maybe the way he's been investigating the bare expanse of Eddie's chest and stomach had felt less indulgent and more cautious.

"Yeah," Steve reassures him. "Yeah, I want to." He leans down, kisses the corner of his jaw, where the flesh was broken by sharp teeth, leaving a permanent forked line, like lighting. "I really, really want to."

Eddie tips his head into the movement and Steve uses both hands to slide down into his boxers, a question in the way he slowly drags elastic over the hard edges of his hips. Eddie moans out a breath and nods, skin shifting under his mouth and Steve keeps pulling, lifting the edge of the waistband over the top of his dick and dragging them down his thighs.

"Fuck, this is happening," Eddie says with a laugh. He looks like he's thinking about throwing an arm over his face when Steve leans back to look down his body, to appreciate the solid thrust of his dick under the bracket of his hips. It sways and jabs beneath where his own is still pinned under fabric, a running jolt of sensation that almost has him sinking down and pressing in.

"You have to promise to keep still," Steve says and Eddie's laugh gets louder, but he doesn't protest.

"Ok, yeah, ok, I can do that, sure." He doesn't sound as if he believes it and Steve has his doubts. Eddie's waist is slender but strong and so easy to grip, his thighs slip-sliding under his own, a scatter of fine hair rasping where his own is darker and thicker. Steve's harder than he can remember being for months, skin hot and tight, and not touching everywhere feels unbearable.

"I mean it, if you pull anything I'm putting you on bed rest for a month," Steve says firmly. He hopes the suggestion that rest will be the only thing Eddie's getting is implied there. Though he thinks he's probably failing at stern with the way his voice shakes out of him. Eddie's dick is wet at the tip, a glisten of fluid painting strings where it taps his stomach and it's amazing how that's suddenly something that has Steve's own dick twitching in his briefs.

Eddie bites his lip, strangling back something that looks like a grin. Steve kisses it away, kisses him until there's a hand in his hair and one in the back of his briefs, pushing down and gripping the curve of his ass with a daring that Eddie clearly feels. The quick dig of fingers is so good that for a second Steve has to sink down into him, the naked length of Eddie's dick nudging hard where his own is still caught under stretched cotton.

"I'll be good, I'll be super good, just don't stop," Eddie pleads, all in one breath. The words are disproved a second later when he tries to stretch upwards as Steve shoves his briefs down and kicks them off the bed. "I want to see you too." There's a palm on his chest, bitten-down nails scratching through his chest hair. "Show me, Steve, come on, please."

Something about Eddie demanding so nicely to see his body has his thighs sliding open to straddle him, straightening up where he sits, bare skin all over, dick stiff enough to arc upwards, balls drawn in where his thighs are canted open and the sound Eddie makes in his throat is desperate.

"Look at you, Jesus, look at you," he says breathlessly. "Can't believe I bagged Steve Harrington."

He says that like he isn't the one who put everything on the line and came through whole, like he isn't all patterns and new skin and long limbs and soft mouth, hair a tumble of curls on Steve's pillow. Steve licks a hand, listens to the way a breath cracks out of Eddie at the way his fingers shine wet before he's reaching down, catching hold of him, hand confident but easy until he knows what Eddie likes, how tight, how rough, how fast - and Steve is not even close to over the fact that he gets to find out.

"Oh fuck, Steve, Steve." Eddie's thighs try to edge open, only to be stopped by Steve's own. He stretches up, hands gripping at Steve's thighs and hips, trying to pull him in.

"Behave," Steve reminds him.

"Behave he says - I haven't - no one's touched my dick before, this is going to be over really fast." He's clearly embarrassed about it but there's also a breathless sort of freedom, as if he's not going to fight it.

Steve presses him gently down with his other hand, thumb and fingers dragging wet over the head of Eddie's dick. It's thick in his hand, the skin silky, the body of it hard. Steve's never touched any dick but his own, he'd thought it would be weird, but it's not, it's good, and it's easy and it's Eddie. Which makes him want to make it good for him, to tug and squeeze as he drags his fingers through the slickness at the head while he makes trembling noises and twitches and reaches for him. Steve folds over, opens his mouth around the nipple Eddie still has, tongue flat against the bud of it, hand still moving as he sucks sharply.

"Steve." Eddie's voice sounds wrecked, a hand nervously settling and then tightening in Steve's hair. "Steve, I'm so fucking close."

He wants to see it happen, wants to work him through it, wants the mess of it across Eddie's belly and over his fingers and in his mouth - and the thought is so visceral and unexpected that he's shuffling back, mouth wet as he watches the way the head moving through his fingers flushes deep red, the stiff weight of it twitching in his hand. Eddie makes a sound like he's broken, followed by the garbled thready whine of his name, and he's streaking his stomach wet on every pull, the slow indulgent squeezes and tugs making his thighs twitch. Watching him come leaves Steve breathless, the mess of it smearing and trailing over his knuckles as he watches Eddie pant for breath, shoulders pushing back into the bed, when Steve doesn't stop. He keeps touching just because he can, thumb dragging at trails and drips of come as his dick softens.

"Steve." It shudders out of him and cracks, but Eddie doesn't make him stop. "You're killing me."

Steve is pretty sure he's the one who's dying, watching the way Eddie's legs draw up, stomach covered in lines and droplets, chest exposed, healing wounds flushed, nipple wet from his mouth. If he'd ever thought that he'd have difficulty finding Eddie attractive, that feels like an absolute joke now. Steve can hear the roar of his own blood, the steady throb where his dick is still sitting hot and untouched, the curve of it angry and desperate. He feels like he's made entirely of breakable threads, but everything he wants is too much to ask for right now when he's so close to the edge.

He lets his hands grip Eddie's bare legs, where the hair is soft under his palms, the muscle jumping. It turns an idle thought into something heated.

"Jesus, Eddie, can I fuck your thighs?"

Eddie gives a breathy rumble of amused delight, before he's nodding, drawing his legs up and moving them to the side so Steve can shuffle closer.

"There's lube in the nightstand. I don't know if you can reach."

He's barely finished talking before Eddie's tugging the drawer open, slipping a hand inside and pulling a bottle out. He stares at it for a second before laughing.

"Steve, that is not lube, that's baby oil." He still hands it over, then presses his thighs together and lets Steve drag him down the bed, a breathy, surprised noise bursting out of him at being manhandled. Steve snaps the cap open and drizzles some into his hand, before slipping it down between Eddie's legs and smearing it on his inner thighs. He feels desperate and lewd and a little wild as he carefully pulls Eddie's hips up onto his lap, turns them to the side and presses his dick into the slippery space he'd made with a shocked hiss at how easy it is. It's also easy to wind his arm around Eddie's thighs until the squeeze leaves him breathless, Eddie's lower legs fall over his arm, heels digging into his hip as he presses back into the pillows.

"Stay like that, fuck you look so good," Steve chokes out, not expecting the position to leave Eddie so exposed, all spare curves of ass, rounded balls and the tight entrance to his body right next to the hand holding him in position. He feels half wrecked already. "Fuck. Just don't move, I don't want to hurt you."

"I won't, promise." Eddie's voice sounds wrecked. "Be good as gold, come on, I want to see you."

It's not an easy position, Eddie is longer and heavier than the girl Steve had done this with, muscle in places that had been soft, a stretch of flat stomach and chest instead of rounded curves, and the sounds he's making are deeper, rumbles of surprised arousal every time Steve pushes up and in. The space he's sliding into leaves him nudging against the back of Eddie's balls but the feeling is the same, the way he slips between the skin, the head of his cock leaving sticky patches on Eddie's thighs as he carefully stretches his arms over his head to tangle them in the pillows, only giving the faintest cracked exhale at the speed of the movement.

"Fuck, how is this so hot?" Eddie pants out.

Steve gets it though, Eddie's pinned where he is, soft and loose after orgasm, body shifting at the pace Steve sets, gentle enough not to jostle his chest but rhythmic enough to leave his curls shaking on the pillow and his dick jolting against his stomach, where it's not entirely soft anymore. The obvious sign that Eddie's into this is enough to push him into steady, grinding thrusts, palms sliding gently on Eddie's chest, squeezing his hip, gripping the flesh of his ass as he watches the head of his dick squeeze through his legs, red and hot and glistening enough to look obscene. The grip and the wet sound and the way Eddie is gently huffing out a whine every time Steve's hips meet the back of his ass is more than enough to have Steve groaning out Eddie's name, staring down at him in the pillows where his hair's spread out in a fan of half-curls, one hand stretching to touch where Steve's fucking him, the other tight around his forearm. He's so naked for him, all patterns and muscle and that wide, wide smile. That's all it takes before Steve's squeezing down on thigh and hip, sparks going off behind his eyes and the sweetest tension quickly unraveling in his belly.

He's caught between quiet murmurs of how good Eddie feels and sharp little bites of accusation about how he's going to ruin Steve for anyone else.

"I'll have to keep you then," Eddie says in reply, the words shaken. "Let you fuck me just like this, come on, show me."

Steve doesn't have it in him to refuse, and he's staggering to a stop, painting the underside of Eddie's balls and his inner thighs with come, there's even a speckled spatter on his stomach and a streak across his left ass cheek as Eddie murmurs his name, in some sort of filthy encouragement.

It's all so much that Steve has to brace himself on the bed after, mouth pressed to the curve of Eddie's knee, then the oily stretch of his thigh. His arms are tired and Eddie's legs are heavy but he decides they might be his new favorite things when he spreads them open to see, and finds shiny skin and sticky patches of come and the faint dark hair pressed down wet. The position is shameless enough that he can feel the sparking edges of pleasure as his dick twitches in the hope of going again. Steve can't help smearing his fingers through the mess he'd made, squeezing that tacky-wet skin while Eddie throws an arm over his face and hisses something quietly overwhelmed, pressing down into Steve's hands. Steve dares to slip his fingers down, where he's spread wide open, more curious than anything else. Eddie shifts up a little, tilts his hips in invitation, so Steve's sliding two fingertips, slippery with oil, over the give of his asshole which gets him a whine and a breathy punched-out noise

"We can do that, if you want to," Eddie says, voice blown-out completely. "You can - yeah."

"Fuck." Steve's still loose and shivery from orgasm but the words leave his belly feeling tight again. It feels like too much in a way he knows he's not going to stop thinking about. "When you're better - if you want to try?"

"Yeah," Eddie agrees. The laugh that comes after sounds embarrassed, but he's more than half hard again, cheeks flushed red. "Definitely been thinking about - about that."

Steve ends up in the pillow next to him, one arm curled over him, mouth pressed to his neck and jaw until Eddie squirms around and kisses him. It's easy to seek out his hand, to slot their fingers back together, and the feeling of a thumb touching his ring is so much that all Steve can do is squeeze back.

"Big fan of the make-up sex though," Eddie says, voice quiet and breathless, soft in a way that Steve's not sure anyone else has ever heard. God he wants it to stay that way too. "Big fan. Huge fan." The laugh that creeps out after that is a touch strained though.

"Are you ok?" Steve asks. Because, yeah, maybe they shouldn't have done that, it's barely been more than a month since Eddie had his chest and stomach stitched back together.

"I hope so, because I would really like to do that again. But first I desperately need a shower, since my boyfriend made a mess of me."

That word out of Eddie's mouth hits him all over again, and it's obvious Eddie's enjoying the indulgence of saying it just as much as he had. God, they're both so stupid, it's amazing they managed to get here at all.

"You're not going to be over that any time soon, are you?"

"Not even close. And I hope you know I'm going to take so many liberties with your soapy wet body this time."

Steve has to admit, that sounds kind of nice. He presses a kiss to Eddie's shoulder, feels the way he gently twirls the ring on his finger, the way he tangles them up with Steve's.

"At least we don't have to tell anyone this time," Steve points out.