Chapter Text
Eddie is hot-wiring the RV when he should have noticed. The signs were there, clear as day. If only he had paid attention then.
The air is musty and unfamiliar—it smells like other people.
Like something stolen.
Steve asks him where he learned how to hot-wire as he leans over Eddie’s shoulder.
Eddie’s movements are hurried as he cuts the wires and strips them to expose the copper within.
Steve is still wearing Eddie’s jean jacket over his naked torso and leans in closely. Eddie can feel the heat of his skin settle in the leather of his jacket and it seeps into his skin like ink on paper.
The RV smells familiar, like when he was younger and his dad took him along, teaching him how to steal a car. The smell of copper meeting copper.
Nostalgia. But not in a good way.
Steve is not backing off, not even after Eddie shoots back an uncomfortable fact about his negligent father. In fact, Robin joins in on the fun. She leans over Steve, looking worried as she asks whether Eddie will be the one driving.
Eddie feels antsy and needs something to take the edge off. Maybe a smoke. But there is no time right now. The thrill of messing with someone is the next best thing.
He knows an opportunity when he sees one and turns his head.
“Harrington's got her” – Eddie leans in close, his breath hot on Steve’s cheek – “Don’t ya, big boy?”
He shoots Steve a teasing smile.
Every normal person would have pulled back by now, but Steve remains unmoved. He regards him with dark eyes and dark lashes. There is no betrayal of emotion. No betrayal of anything amiss.
He doesn’t even flinch.
The second time it happens they are hanging out at Robin’s house while her parents are out of town.
It’s a strange ensemble consisting mostly of people from band. Eddie recognizes some of them, although he doesn’t know them by name. Music is music, regardless of whether you are in the school band or play in an actual band—although the latter is way cooler, obviously—and he actually finds himself having a good time.
He talks.
He talks a lot when he feels out of place, rambles too much until his mouth runs dry.
He takes a final sip from his beer and crumples the can. He makes his way to the kitchen with a tipsy swagger in his step and alcohol-fueled confidence.
The kitchen is semi-crowded and Eddie spots an untouched six-pack on the kitchen counter. Somehow kitchens are always like that, a gathering spot for people, a watering hole where all good shit happens. It's where all the gossip gathers from loose tongues.
At most parties at least. Because this is a band party, and although those kids do know how to get wild, it’s nothing compared to the total chaos of some of the bigger parties he’s had the pleasure of selling at.
He tears at the cardboard casing and pulls out a can.
A weight settles next to him, heavy and warm, bare legs just shy of touching. Eddie turns, beer in hand, and leans back against the counter.
It’s Steve.
Steve acknowledges him with a simple nod and Eddie raises his unopened beer to him in a silent toast.
He side-eyes Steve as he cracks it open and the can hisses loudly in his hands.
Ever since the bat-thing, Steve’s presence has been like a loose thread and Eddie feels the irresistible urge to pick at it.
To elicit a reaction.
To make Steve squirm.
He leans in closer until his shoulder is pressed against Steve's and their thighs are touching.
Eddie fidgets with the can lip as he waits for the inevitable reaction of uneasiness, feigning disinterest while he watches Steve like a hawk.
It usually doesn’t take long.
Any minute now.
Steve remains still.
Eddie shifts his weight, pressing himself closer to Steve’s side.
This was his little game and he always won. For more than a year now, Eddie has been the undisputed king of personal space invasion.
There was something so empowering—so utterly bone-tingling—about the way people’s shoulders tense, how they shift to create some distance without making it seem intentional.
Eddie revels in it.
Steve casually sips his beer, seemingly unaware of the fact that they're too fucking close. He takes his sweet time staring through the open kitchen door into the living room.
Taking in the people around him.
Totally, utterly unaffected.
Eddie taps his foot on the floor as he feels himself grow restless. He can’t believe Steve is so oblivious, or maybe he is fine with it? There’s just no way he doesn’t notice that the way they are standing is just…not normal.
The music seems to synchronize with his thoughts.
He is about to lose his own game if Steve doesn’t move soon.
“Steve!”
Robin bursts into the kitchen.
Her dark-lined eyes are wide and she looks flustered as she makes her way over to Steve’s side.
She’s pretty cute, albeit an odd match for Steve. He had always figured Steve would end up with a cheerleader or some perfectly prissy blonde. Robin is a little nerdy, her style bordering on alternative, and she is anything but prissy. He would go as far as to call her a decent choice.
But Robin just doesn’t suit Steve in a way he can't quite put his finger on.
Steve shifts his weight and leans more towards Robin. It’s a small change in position, a miniscule change really, except for the fact Steve body presses against him in all the wrong ways.
Eddie feels his shoulders tense in a way that has nothing to do with the fact he is about to become the once-defeated king of personal space invasion.
Absolutely not.
Robin casts Eddie a quick look before making up her mind and then the floodgates open. She is whispering at such a rate, Eddie would be surprised if she was speaking English at all. He catches bits and pieces. A name. Ricky?
He drums his fingers along his beer as he tries to ignore the way Steve’s ass brushes against his thigh with every small movement. That every time Steve responds to Robin animatedly, his body moves with it and his ass comes awfully close to—
He should move.
He should, but he won’t.
Moving means losing.
It’s only when Robin pulls Steve to the living room that Eddie feels like he can breathe again.
Robin insists Eddie must join them for movie night.
Somehow, Eddie has become a third to the dynamic duo. It’s nothing on par with the bond those two share. It can’t be, because they are on another level. Something Eddie hasn’t quite observed before.
This is probably what they mean by soulmates.
They aren’t dating though. Robin told him—insisted on it, in fact—when he had made the assumption.
Somehow Eddie likes that.
He likes the fact that Steve and Robin are just friends. It makes him feel like he fits in better, even when he knows Robin includes him out of some weird sense of duty rather than genuine friendship.
That’s fine with him.
Eddie’s not a close-friendship kinda guy anyway. He has friends for D&D, friends from the band, and now he also has friends with whom he shares a strange supernatural trauma.
Each in its own little corner, as all things should be.
He likes Robin. She’s fun and quirky. Her mind works in a way that makes it hard for him to anticipate what she’ll say next. She’s fucking smart to boot.
Steve—well, that’s more complex. They aren’t on bad terms per se. Actually, back in the Upside Down, there was a moment Eddie felt they might be friends. But now that’s all over and done, Steve feels more distant, more aloof. It’s not like Steve shows dislike towards him, but Eddie is sure there is some amount of judgment there. And maybe it’s the way he dresses, black leather and ripped jeans and silver, whereas Steve wears those preppy little polos and perfectly ironed shorts.
Or maybe it’s Dustin, and the fact that he won’t stop talking about him and DnD and that sick Metallica solo that left the kid starry-eyed and worshiping the ground he walks on.
He’s pretty sure it makes Steve jealous.
Steve and Robin work at Family Video. Together. It’s strangely adorable. Hard to believe they aren’t dating, but whatever floats their boat. Eddie wouldn’t be surprised to be invited to their platonic spring wedding.
They’re weird like that.
Every Friday, Robin hosts movie nights with some new arrivals that didn’t get rented for the day. It's a neat perk of the job, although he isn’t much of a film guy. Too many hobbies, too little time. Although he does have a few favorites, some that have served valiantly by inspiring new D&D campaigns. Good shit is rare and there are plenty of books.
Regardless, he accepts Robin’s invitation.
Loch Nora is way out and he hasn’t been there often. He usually avoids it, even by car, because these people aren’t shy when it comes to calling the cops. In fact, Eddie has had them called on him for simply driving thought before.
When Eddie walks up to the house, one of Steve’s neighbors eyes him suspiciously from behind the garden fence. Eddie resists the urge to flip her off. Don’t old people have better stuff to do? Probably not. He balls his fists and stomps a little more aggressively towards the door.
The woman gasps quietly.
Steve’s parents will hear about that probably. Hawkins is a small town and people talk, Steve’s fancy little neighborhood is even smaller.
He rings the bell and stares at the heavy red doors. A few seconds later, Steve opens them.
“Hey, man.” Steve’s voice is casual, notably void of any kind of antagonism and Eddie takes it as a good sign. Steve steps aside to let him through.
The hallway is big and the ceilings are high. It’s decorated in a distinctly rich-people style, the kind you see in magazines.
“He’s finally here?” Eddie hears Robin call from somewhere in the house.
Steve guides him along and asks if he wants a beer. He leaves for what is presumably the kitchen and Eddie is left alone.
He looks around the living room. It is huge, bigger than the entire trailer, but it feels empty somehow. Barely lived in. There is a three-seat sofa facing a large TV, larger than he has ever seen before. Besides that, there are two chairs facing the seating area. They appear in pristine condition, hardly sat on.
Eddie decides to sit on the sofa. He plays with the rings on his fingers as he waits for either Robin or Steve to return. The silver skull disappears and reappears maybe five times before Robin walks in carrying a bag. Only a moment later Steve returns with three bottles of beer. The good stuff, Eddie notes. Not whatever has to pass for beer back at the trailer.
Robin empties the bag on the floor in front of the TV and rummages through some VHS tapes, holding them up while Steve comments.
“We’ve seen that one last week—I can’t stand to see her face again—Fine, fine, let’s go with that one.”
Eddie is fine with anything because he will most likely think it's trash anyway—especially if Steve has a say in it.
Steve lets himself fall in the middle of the sofa while Robin works on the VHS player. It’s not a large sofa by any means, but it isn’t small either. Eddie feels like there is plenty of room on the other side where Robin will take her seat soon.
It probably isn’t so, but Eddie can’t help but wonder if Steve knows, whether he’s challenging him.
If maybe Steve can’t stand Eddie being the King of Personal Space Invasion.
Such a greedy boy.
After all, Steve already has one ‘king’ title to his name. He should leave some for the rest of them.
“Have you heard of this one yet?” Steve asks as he slings his arms over the back of the couch.
Eddie feels the ghost of his hand lingers behind his neck. The touch is featherlight, barely touching his hair, but it feels like Steve is playing on the offensive here.
Eddie feels himself grow flustered. And fuck, this is ridiculous, right?
“Remind me what this abomination is called again?” Eddie composes himself.
Steve scoffs and rolls his eyes in exaggerated disagreement. “Ferris Bueller’s day off. Right up your alley.”
“And why is that?”
“It’s about a guy playing hooky. I recall missing you from class every now and then.” Steve gives him a knowing smile.
Robin joins them on the sofa. She rests her back on the armrest with her legs against Steve’s thighs. She probably doesn’t realize that she is effectively pressing Steve further into Eddie’s space.
“Oh, you recall huh? I didn’t know I was disappointing my fans,” Eddie tries to keep his tone light and shifts in his seat.
Steve responds with a small chuckle but any further responses are drowned out by the sound of the movie starting.
The movie starts slow and Eddie tries to focus. He can’t seem to make himself comfortable and it has everything to do with Harrington’s startling audacity to be so physically present.
Around the halfway point of the movie, Robin moves herself in a lying position with her legs over Steve’s lap. Eddie looks down on her socked feet as they move mindlessly in tune with the soundtrack.
In some ways, Ferris Bueller reminds him of Steve with his floppy hair, enigmatic personality, and the way everything just works out for him.
Perfect Ferris with his stupidly gorgeous girlfriend.
The place where his thigh touches Steve itches for him to move it, but Eddie keeps still. He’s cool, he can handle this.
This. Whatever Steve is doing.
That is until he feels Steve’s hand droop down from the backrest and settles itself in his neck. Eddie feels his breath catch in his throat, a soft gasp escapes his lips—too soft to hear, or so he hopes.
Steve sits close, too close.
From the corner of his eye, Eddie can see Steve shoot him a curious glance.
There is no way Steve doesn’t know what he is doing.
No way.
Eddie crouches down in front of the sci-fi wall. He does this more often now—hang out at Family Video when Steve and Robin are working. Whenever he’s bored or has nothing better to do, he somehow finds himself there.
Sometimes he wonders if he’s imposing himself. Inserting himself into their friendship. But both Robin and Steve greet him with smiles. They welcome him into their little world and it makes Eddie a little weak.
Eddie is used to feeling unwanted.
An outsider.
A freak.
This kind of friendship is new to him and he hasn’t been able to give it a proper place yet. It feels like a fresh layer of paint, still sticky to the touch.
Still, he goes there often.
So often that people sometimes confuse him for an employee, asking him questions about where to find stuff. Eddie always points them in the wrong direction, even though by now he knows the shop by heart.
Mainstream movies are always displayed at eye height. Easy to reach—it’s what most people come here for. Not Eddie. Those types of movies hardly interest him, even though he will watch them with Robin and Steve during their movie nights.
They like the movies and Eddie likes their company.
He hasn’t watched a movie by himself in a long time, but recently Dustin told him about something. Something with aliens and Sigourney Weaver who wears panties that are too small. It must be near the bottom. The good stuff is always at the bottom.
He feels Steve before he hears him—the weight of his legs on Eddie’s back.
Steve restocks above him and Eddie’s mind is screaming. Steve has no regard for the fact that Eddie was here first. He stocks the shelf, reaching over Eddie’s head, leaning his weight into him.
It makes him nervous, makes the necks of his hair stand up on end. And really, it’s ridiculous right? No one would do this kind of thing on purpose.
No one but Steve.
A treacherous part of his mind craves more, wants Steve to lean his full weight into him until he can feel it all against his back. It’s dumb and a total betrayal of friendship, so Eddie shoves the thought away, shoves it good and deep, buries it in darkness, never to be seen again.
On the small TV from the ceiling, Back to the Future is playing and Eddie can hear Marty McFly declare, ‘Nobody calls me a chicken!’
Eddie won’t be a chicken either.
It's unbearably hot, and Eddie is certain he'll perish if he stays another second in the trailer.
The insulation is poor and the metal shell traps the punishing heat of the heatwave, making it impossible for even the coolness of the night to offer any relief.
Eddie hasn’t slept well for days.
He is fanning himself with some trashy magazine when the phone rings and it’s Steve’s voice on the other end. Steve’s parents have air conditioning and a pool and Eddie would be an idiot to refuse an invitation to a Harrington-exclusive pool party.
He arrives at Steve’s house wearing a Dio shirt over his swimming trunks and a pair of flip flops that are falling apart. He doesn’t care what he looks like though. Style be damned, he just wants to have the least amount of layers to shed before he can hit the pool.
Steve’s garden is big. The pool is big. It smells like chlorine and sunscreen and the sound of loud splashing echoes against the house.
Lucas and Dustin are in some sort of competition to see who can drown who the fastest while Max and El cheer them on. It’s all good fun, except for where Max seems much more invested in Dustin’s untimely death than El, who is cheering for them both from the side of the pool.
On one of the sun chairs, Mike and Will are huddled together—hair wet and knees pressed together as they read a comic and speak with hushed voices. They don’t seem the types for rough-housing. Mike always seemed the most reserved of the three knuckleheads he welcomed into Hellfire. With the return Bowlcut and Supergirl, the group seems more balanced, and Mike a little less cranky than he used to be.
Next to them, Robin rubs sunscreen on herself. She’s pale and freckled—the type of skin that burns easily. Eddie is the same, pale but without the freckles. He should probably mooch some off her soon.
Sunlight is bad for tattoos, and he’s very serious about that.
“You runnin’ a daycare here, Harrington?” Eddie greets as he saunters into the backyard.
He doesn’t ring the bell, not anymore. He’s been over at Steve’s house a couple of times now for movie night and quickly learned the backdoor is always unlocked.
Steve sits in a hammock, dressed in swimming trunks and reading a magazine with a car on the front. He looks up when he hears Eddie and unapologetically smiles at him. An easy kind of smile that Eddie can't quite mirror.
“Eddie!” Dustin calls out when he notices him. He tries to swim to the edge of the pool but is promptly intercepted and tackled by Lucas. While Dustin is busy drowning, Eddie loses his shirt and flip flops. The moment the boy rears his curly head above water, Eddie launches himself in front of them. The impact creates a wave, splashing enough water in their faces to temporarily stun them.
Dustin shrieks, wiping at his eyes and Lucas releases him in the violence of Eddie’s attack.
“You little shitheads better swim fast.” Eddie grins. Lucas and Dustin scatter in the pool making sounds that sound somewhere between amusement and genuine fear for Eddie’s wrath.
The pool is great and Eddie finally feels cool after three full days of overheating.
After getting his fill, he makes his way over to Steve.
“I should’ve come here sooner,” Eddie says, hair dripping wet. Under the sound of Steve’s protests, Eddie climbs into the hammock and seats himself on the other side. It’s a tight fit and Steve complains as Eddie’s feet hit his magazine.
“You’re dripping all over my read, dude!”
Steve’s frowns at him, but in a way that he doesn’t really mean it. Eddie sees him do it to the kids as well when they’re pushing boundaries, like he should be mad, but actually finds it humorous.
A great awful babysitter kids love to have because they can work him with big eyes and batting lashes.
They’re a tangle of legs and the hammock hangs low to the ground. It’s not made for two adult men, Eddie knows, but it feels more fun this way.
Steve doesn’t comment on it. He settles comfortably and continues reading, even when Eddie’s water-streaked legs poke his side.
Steve only swats at Eddie’s feet when he pushes the magazine closed. The silence between them is comfortable and Eddie closes his eyes. The sound of pages turning, birds singing and the endless squabbling of the kids eases his mind.
When the sun sinks behind the trees, Steve leaves the hammock to fire up the grill.
Eddie watches lazily as Steve puts an apron over his naked torso, ties it over the hollow of his back. Warm skin, slightly tanned, with a little mole to the left.
“Quit drooling, doofus.” Robin settles herself in Steve’s old place.
“I wasn’t—”
“Right.” Robin smiles at him and it's so gentle that Eddie forgets to be snarky. The hammock swings slightly from Robin’s addition, but it doesn’t drip as deep as when Steve sat there.
A little later, they’re eating burgers with a hint of smoke. They’re all together, the kids, Steve, Robin.
A strange feeling settles in him as he looks around him.
This must be what family is supposed to feel like. Safe. Comfortable. Belonging.
It’s unfamiliar yet so welcome.
“You can stay the night,” Steve says once they’re back in the hammock. Dusk has settled in and Eddie can only barely make out the expression on Steve's face.
Around him, the sound of crickets embraces the night and their skin smells like citronella to ward off mosquitos.
A little while ago, Nancy and Jonathan picked up the kids. Only Robin remains, but she quickly claimed the guest room and retreated there once the sun disappeared behind the house.
The air is still warm, but Steve’s legs against his own are warmer. Eddie looks up at the sky where stars linger in the violet absence of the sun.
“We could stay out here.” Eddie stretches his arms behind his head. “Anything better than the trailer.” And he would like to, because out here it’s cool and nice and sharing the hammock with Steve feels strangely comforting.
“Hold on.” Steve ungracefully lifts himself from the hammock, leaving it to swing in its wake. Eddie watches him enter the house, sees lights turn on and off again.
When Steve returns, he carries a light blanket. He settles himself back in the hammock, legs tangling once more before he throws it over the both of them.
Eddie pokes Steve’s cheek with his toe and unsurprisingly, Steve has no reaction to it. It seems that way no matter what Eddie does.
“You ever slept out here before?”
“When I was a kid,” Steve says, “I sometimes built a little tent in the garden from cushions and the like. My parents allowed me to sleep there in the summer if it was warm enough. It’d be covered in mosquito bites the next morning, but it felt like an adventure.” Eddie hears Steve’s smile in his voice. A fond memory.
“Sucks to be a mosquito tonight. We smell like shit,” Eddie quips. The lemony smell of citronella is piercing and it sears itself into his memory as much as it does his skin.
Steve nudges his leg into Eddie’s. The hairs on it tickle his skin.
“You ever slept outside?”
“Hm…once a few years back. Got in a fight with Wayne and trailers aren’t that big. I walked out and slept by a tree. The next morning when I walked back I saw a snake coiled up on the ground with a footstep on it. Made me never want to sleep outside again.” Eddie chuckles, but it’s a little humorless. Wayne had been worried sick, and that fight was all dumb and stupid.
“Shit, a snake?” Steve’s voice sounds uneasy, and Eddie wants to get it back to how it was, the way it sounded with fondness on his mind.
“Not a venomous one,” he offers.
“Did you step on it?”
“I think so. Poor fucker.”
“Maybe we shouldn’t sleep out here then,” Steve says. In the darkness Eddie can see him turn his head to scan the ground, looking for snakes presumably.
After a while, Steve makes the executive decision to head inside. Eddie follows him up the stairs. He didn’t bring a change of clothes, didn’t anticipate staying really. He only has a shirt and his swimming shorts.
They pass the hallway, enter a room and Steve flicks the lights on. He’s never been in Steve’s room before and he takes a moment to look around.
It's all plaid walls and matching drapes. Above his desk hangs a framed picture of a car. It’s like Steve's parents bought his room straight from a folder and Steve’s absence from it feels loud.
Hideously impersonal.
Not at all like Steve.
“Robin has the guest room. That only leaves the couch, but trust me, it will break your back,” Steve says as he clears some clothes off his bed. “ I thought we could share mine. It will be a bit of a tight squeeze…” Steve trails and looks at the bed with his hands on his hips.
Eddie knows he should take the couch.
It would be the polite thing to do.
Yet the comfort of a real bed calls to him.
It’s not a big deal.
“Yeah, sure.” Eddie tries to keep his tone cool, but it’s like playing chicken on steroids. On the other hand, maybe this will be the moment he can finally win from Steve.
Steve turns back to Eddie and gives him a once-over.
Suddenly, he feels very naked, standing there in just his swimwear. Steve nods to himself, coming to a silent conclusion as he turns to his drawers.
“Here.” He hands Eddie a pair of boxers. “For sleeping.”
Eddie takes them, grateful, but it's also kinda fucking weird to be wearing Steve’s boxers.
It’s not a big deal.
“I’m gonna hit the shower real quick. There’s another bathroom down the hall. You can just take one of the towels. I’ll show you.”
Hot water hits Eddie’s skin and he closes his eyes as the scent of Citronella slowly dilutes until it’s gone altogether.
He’ll be sharing a bed with Steve fucking Harrington and isn’t that a wild thought? Definitely not something he’d imagine when he sat in the back of the class, three years prior, staring at the back of Steve’s stupid hair.
Nor did he imagine Steve would be immune to his little proximity game.
That he could grow to tolerate Steve’s presence.
Or even like it.
Life's a fucking riot.
When he walks back into Steve’s room, clad in baby-blue cotton boxers, Steve is already in bed. When he hears Eddie enter, he scoots over, making space.
Eddie settles in beside him, on his back, staring at the ceiling.
“Good night, dude,” Steve says as he leans over Eddie to turn off the light. Eddie can smell his deodorant and unfamiliar shampoo, and Steve’s skin radiates heat where it touches him.
The bed is not meant for two people.
Eddie can feel his heartbeat in his throat. It thumps so insistently, he's sure Steve must feel the bed move with it, but if he does, he doesn’t show it.
He turns to his side, facing away from Steve. When they’re both on their sides, the bed feels bigger, but that doesn’t stop the scent of it from engulfing him in a tight embrace. It smells like Steve.
Everywhere.
Clinging to his skin.
Sinking into his pores.
He can feel Steve shift behind him, moving his head closer to the shared pillow until he feels Steve’s nose in his neck and his arms folded against his back.
His breath hitches in his throat and Eddie tries not to make a sound when he feels Steve’s lips against his neck as he lets out a sleepy sigh.
Nobody calls me a chicken, he hears Marty McFly echo in his mind.
Eddie isn’t sure who is playing who right now.