Chapter Text
It had been two and a half months since the ending of Spring Break.
Summer had fallen over Hawkins, Indiana like a thick woolen blanket, bringing with it the oppressive humidity one could almost swear it was possible to drown in.
Eddie Munson, against all odds and apparent wishes of several residents and devoted church-goers, had been miraculously cleared of all charges, said miracle entirely due to one very good lawyer, one familiar doctor, and good ole top secret government meddling.
Just as they’d moulded up a terrifyingly accurate decoy of Will Byers to cover their loathsome tracks, they’d found some other poor sap, a deserving criminal they’d assured them all, to take the fall for the supernatural serial murders instead.
The school had graciously allowed Eddie to graduate, though whether that was due to his barely surpassing average grades this time round, helped along of course by tutor extraordinaire Nancy Wheeler, or their unwillingness to keep a previously suspected leader of a demonic cult in their student body for one more year despite his newly gained hero status, no one could truly tell.
Eddie had just been grateful to get out, saying as much after he’d been led off the stage post diploma snatching and bird-flipping by two less than impressed teachers while the party whooped and hollered over the rest of the crowd in his wake.
Steve had laughed so hard he had been genuinely impressed by the integrity of his bandages.
It had been a month and a half since Jim Hopper had returned from the proverbial dead with a well formed cover story of secret Undercover work, taking back his coveted title as Police Chief after quite the legal battle much to the collective confusion and subsequent relief of the town.
No one asked any questions; no one ever asked questions in Hawkins.
There was nothing to ask if you just didn’t look, something the population of the town had gotten very good at doing in the past few years.
The Byers were back in Hawkins like they’d never left, Vecna was 100% confirmed dead and gone, his appalling portals closed tight behind him, and everything was all spic and span and back to normal; or rather as back to normal as a place like Hawkins could get after the enormous supernatural disaster that’d rocked and ravaged the town.
That’s why Steve Harrington, still in his work vest though he’d left Family Video over an hour ago, drummed his fingers absently against his knee as he sat in his now usual spot on the comfortably worn couch in the Wheeler’s basement, nose filled with the all too familiar and offensively strong scents of Fritos and Mountain Dew, watching what was turning out to be a very intense session with the Hellfire Club.
Because that was his new normal, apparently.
He hadn’t intended to watch the game, but just like the previous two sessions he’d been forced to sit through, Steve had gotten sucked in after a mere ten minutes, listening with rapt attention and baited breath.
He blamed it almost entirely on Eddie Munson’s natural proclivity toward mind blowing storytelling.
He didn’t quite understand most of the technical talk, no matter how many times over the years Dustin had insisted on explaining it to him, but the story itself had been utterly enthralling.
Fresh off of their victory against the Manticore terrorising the nearby town, the party heard rumors of a vast treasure hoard long abandoned by its dragon guardian.
Piecing together and following the clues left throughout the town, they came upon a lone tower in the middle of a wide glen, described so vividly Steve could damn near swear he’d been there before.
There was an inscription in the stone arch above the door written in something called Primordial, a language that Will’s warlock was luckily able to translate to mean:
“Nothing is as it seems, but everything is the truth.”
After entering the tower, the party found themselves trapped together in what seemed to be a shared hallucination or a dream.
The magic users' magic became chaotic and unpredictable as if they’d never wielded it before, while the fighters lost their weapons and were forced to improvise.
They had just defeated an Ogre Battering Ram, whatever the fuck that was, and were in the process of opening a secret door Erica’s rogue druid multi class, Madame Gusty, had found, when a strange voice called out to them.
Steve watched, embarrassingly engrossed, as Eddie stood from his seat for what had to be the millionth time that session, his expression deathly serious as he spoke in a low breathy voice:
“If you value your lives, you will go no further.”
He swept his hand out across his body, long tattooed arm extended as if to block the path.
“Roll perception.”
The sound of dice hitting the table rang out in the suddenly silent room, every member hunched over to read out their numbers all at once.
Eddie nodded in apparent satisfaction.
“In a gathering of mist, a ghostly form appears before you, a human man with a long grey face, covered mostly by a shining helm. He’s adorned in heavy armour and a white tunic, tattered and stained from use. Upon his transparent chest is a large symbol, through the very center of which appears to be a single but fatal stab wound, the echo of blood still seeping from it as naught more than mist.
“You look closely at the symbol which appears to be a coat of arms. This specter is, or once was a Paladin of the Knights of Holy Judgement.”
“That’s Paulus’s order!” Erica called out with a finger pressed to the tip of her nose to indicate an out of character communication.
“No it isn’t!” Lucas argued immediately.
“He’s with the Knights of the Merciful Sword, isn’t he? Dustin!”
Dustin waved his hand to stall their questions as he flipped maddeningly quickly through his enormous binder of excruciatingly exhaustive notes, calling out an excited “AH-HA!” as he apparently found what he was looking for. “Erica’s right. He is from Mike’s Order.”
“But I thought every Knight in that Order perished by dragon fire?” Gareth interjected with a confused wrinkle to his brow.
“Yeah, so why does he only have a stab wound?” Will nodded consideringly, glancing over toward Mike who met his gaze with a smile and a shrug before standing from his own seat.
“I approach the specter and bow in greeting.”
He straightened his posture before holding his right fist to his chest and bending shallowly at the waist, the wallet chain hanging from his belt loop, perfectly mirroring Eddie’s own, jingling softly with the movement.
“You’re a long way from home, Brother,” he said formally, rising from his bow and looking to Eddie.
Eddie seemed to consider him for a moment before he shot forward abruptly, leaning over his DM’s screen, frizzy curls flouncing with the sharp movement as he regarded a startled Mike with a glower.
“Your brother I am not. I am a fiction,” Eddie replied in that raspy whisper, enunciating every single word as if they were the most important one he’d ever said.
Steve could feel El and Max shifting in their places on the couch beside him, Max shutting off her Walkman they’d both been listening to with their heads pressed together to better hear Eddie as he spoke.
”I am an omen,” Eddie continued as he straightened up his posture, hand outstretched to command the attention of the entire room, which he did only too well.
Steve absentmindedly raised his arm to rest on the back of the couch as the girls scooted closer, El resting her head softly on his shoulder, her shaggy short curls tickling against his collar. Max in turn leaned in against El’s side, her pale eyes sliding shut as she surrendered her full attention to Eddie’s narrative.
It took a lot for her to finally admit, but Max loved Eddie’s stories.
They’d been one of the only things successful in making her smile in the month they’d spent recovering in Dr. Owen’s lab together; Eddie had insisted on telling her a new one every night, using every silly voice in his arsenal until he had her genuinely grinning, letting out the occasional snicker between bitingly sarcastic remarks.
Steve’s heart warmed at the mere memory, and he laid his arm across El’s shoulders, hand reaching out to rest gently on the top of Max’s head, ruffling her vivid red hair.
She smacked briefly at his hand, but settled into their odd pile as Eddie ramped up the dramatics, hopping up onto his chair with a sweeping motion.
“I am a warning sent over a sea breeze from the Land of Fate.”
Steve’s eyes left Eddie only briefly as Will perked up at his words, taking a quick glance at his character sheet and scribbling a note, but remaining otherwise silent.
He glanced back just in time to see a secretive smile stretch across Eddie’s lips as he observed Will, Steve watching how it curled crookedly at one side as his eyes narrowed with what could only be described as sinister glee.
He pointed to the younger teen with a knowing smirk as he ordered:
“Byers the younger! Roll perception with advantage.”
Will did as he was told, Steve watching on as he rolled twice and called out the number eighteen.
“Jareth the Mystic,” Eddie announced like the voice of God in a cheesy film. “You and only you watch as a symbol flashes into focus on the face of the specter’s helm; a cresting wave.”
His outstretched hand mimicked the curve of the ocean as he spoke, and Will’s huge eyes widened even further in understanding Steve could only wish he could share without having to learn several years worth of lore to get there.
Will stood up beside Mike, schooling his features to reflect the calm and logical Warlock he played.
“You are sent by my Matron, the Goddess Hakiyah,” he stated more than asked as Dustin scribbled furiously in his notes, switching from his black pen to blue. “What truths do you deliver to us?”
Every eye in the room, even Jonathan from his spot slumped in a bean bag chair across from Steve, was trained on Eddie as he raised his head toward Will with a somber frown, so real and so deep that Steve almost believed it; could almost see the heavy glimmering armor he’d described adorning his thin frame in such vivid detail.
“You have all been made blind to the truth,” he hissed, pointing across the table to each party member, all of whom were now standing, assorted folding chairs long forgotten.
“You have been deceived by someone close to you, one who even now plots your downfall,” Eddie continued, rings catching in the dim light as he waved his fingers in cryptic warning. ”You must not let him lead you astray. You must remain awake. You must return to your true quest to defeat your enemy, and you must. not. fail. Zakhara depends on it.”
A long moment of silence stretched out as each and every person in the basement took in his words, Dustin falling back into his seat wide eyed and slack-jawed beside a borderline hysterical Jeff.
“Shit,” the teen said succinctly. “We have a traitor.”
“Wait wait wait,” Lucas said, waving his hands as he spoke. “You said our true quest is to defeat our enemy. What do you mean? Who is our enemy?”
Another secret smile quirked the edge of Eddie’s lips as he leaned forward with his hands planted firmly on the table, rings smacking against the wood with several loud cracks, wild hair falling over his hunched shoulders like a veil.
“Ssssssomnius,” he spoke in little more than a whisper, raising his hand, ringed fingers outstretched, high above his head.
“And suddenly, just as the specter had appeared… poof! He was gone. And I’m afraid that’s where I’m calling it for tonight.”
A loud chorus of complaints rang out in the small space, Eddie grinning widely, seeming to momentarily bask in the chaos of the moment.
“Hey hey hey. We’re already half past 10:00, and I don’t wanna get another earful from any of your parents for keeping you out too late. I’m on thin ice with a few of them already!”
Steve smirked, recalling the nearly thirty minute lecture Mrs. Sinclair had given the two of them on Tuesday for bringing Lucas and Erica home past midnight.
He softly patted El’s shoulder, the girl separating herself from his side to lean back heavily against Max. He rose from his place on the couch with a stretch, a chorus of pops sounding with the movement, much to his satisfaction.
He’d been trying to work that crick out of his back for a week.
Patting Jonathan’s shoulder as he passed, the other man returning the gesture blindly as he picked up El’s backpack to prepare to take her and Max home, he approached the painted cardboard map and mini figure covered table.
“Henderson,” he called to the teen still hunched over the table, face buried in his binder, pen scribbling so fast Steve was shocked he didn’t start a fire.
“Yo, Henderson!” he reached out, delivering a quick nougie that displaced his baseball cap, which definitely seemed to get his attention if the ineffectual hand slapping and whining was anything to go by.
”You comin’ or what? I don’t have all night.”
Dustin glanced up from his notes with a little wince, hissing through his teeth.
“Oh… we actually decided we were just gonna stay the night, tonight,” he said guiltily, motioning to Mike, Will, and Lucas.
Steve scoffed, throwing his hands out in a gesture of aggravation.
“Then what the hell did I sit through your five hour nerd fest for?”
Dustin shrugged, trying for an unassuming smile, though the effect was ruined by his worriedly upturned brows that immediately alerted Steve that another little surprise was on the way.
“Oh, well I told Eddie you’d give him a ride home,” he shrugged, smile widening into a grin; the picture of innocence.
Steve rolled his eyes, crossing his arms tightly across his chest, the corner of his name tag pressing into his bicep.
“Henderson, would you stop volunteering me for things without asking,” he groused half-heartedly, fixing the teen with a practiced stern stare.
Dustin raised his hands in surrender.
“His van crapped out this morning! I thought it wouldn’t be a problem considering you guys love to hang out without me anyway.”
Steve’s gaze flickered over to the man himself as he packed up his supplies, Mike and Will chattering excitedly with him while they helped.
His eyes caught on the crinkle at the corners of Eddie’s dark eyes, the wrinkle of his nose as he laughed at whatever Mike was saying as the teen gesticulated wildly like a little Eddie 2.0.
It was true.
Eddie and Steve had been hanging out a little more recently, most of the time with Robin, or any one of the other older teens, but sometimes just the two of them.
It had started when Eddie was still in his coma.
Steve had refused to leave his side for the first three days, waving away any offers of having his own wounds checked over, entirely unwilling to allow him out of his sight; unwilling to chance him either waking up or dying alone.
He couldn’t allow that to happen.
Not after carrying the man’s limp body on his back through the portal, his warm wet blood seeping into and soaking his clothes, his weak heartbeat hammering away in his shuddering chest pressed against the valley between Steve’s shoulder blades.
Not after all that.
He’d taken to reading to him, just as Lucas did with Max.
Sure, he wasn’t the strongest reader, and he certainly didn’t have a flair for the dramatic like Eddie did, but it was something.
Bilbo Baggins had just emerged through the thick canopy of Mirkwood to see the ‘Black Emperor’ butterflies when dark brown eyes fluttered open after seven long days, the slow and steady rhythm of the EKG machine picking up tempo as his bleary gaze landed on Steve.
He could still remember, as clear as the summer sky, the shine in Eddie’s eyes and the rasp in his unused voice as he uttered:
”You’re doing the voices wrong.”
Suddenly, very suddenly, he was pulled back to the present as he became the focus of those very eyes, Eddie meeting his gaze with a single brow quirked in a silent question:
‘You good, dude?’
Steve nodded minutely, casting his gaze downward as he felt a strange warmth travel to his cheeks.
Warmth that only really payed a visit when Eddie was around.
He prayed the basement lighting was too dim to see it, but when he glanced back over to Dustin beside him, the kid was grinning up at him far too knowingly for his liking.
He huffed in fake annoyance, shoving the teen by the side of his head and leaning his hip against the table as the nerd flailed and squawked out an indignant noise much to the amusement of the rest of the party.
Steve allowed his smile to slip through at the sound, turning back toward Eddie and calling out:
“Hurry up, Munson. You want a ride or not?”
-
The walk out of the Wheeler’s residence had been awkward to say the least.
Karen, bless her, had greeted them in the kitchen with a smile. As per usual, she pressed a quick kiss to Steve’s cheek, commenting on how she was certain he couldn’t possibly get any handsomer.
She still had that look of pity in her eyes that said:
”I’m sorry my daughter broke your heart, but thank you for spending all of your ample free time taking care of my son and his friends.”
Eddie had been visibly shocked when she’d pulled him into a gentle hug right after, stating that he was, of course, always welcome in their home.
Steve hadn’t missed the grumble of disagreement from Ted Wheeler, lounging in his La-Z-Boy as always.
Prick.
When they’d finally made it out, both armed with Tupperware bowls of Mrs. Wheeler’s casserole and a slice of chocolate cake, they heaved tandem sighs of relief.
“I really appreciate the ride, dude,” Eddie commented as he hopped into the passenger seat of Steve’s BMW. “Even if Henderson put you up to it. I really didn’t wanna walk home with a whole box of reasons to get my ass kicked.”
He grinned, clearly only half joking as he slid said box, housing several bags of dice, little hand painted figures, and his DM screen into the back seat and pulled his seat belt on before Steve could remind him to.
“Of course,” Steve nodded, starting the car with a turn of the key and placing his hand on the back of the passenger's seat over Eddie’s arm, looking over his shoulder as he backed out of the Wheeler’s driveway.
“S’not like I had anything better to do.”
And boy wasn’t that the truth.
As per usual, there was barely a moment of silence before Eddie shifted in his seat to better face him and break it.
“So,” Eddie started, drumming his fingers on the glovebox in a rhythm Steve vaguely recognized. “How’re you liking the campaign so far?”
Steve couldn’t help but crack a small smile at the almost anxious tone in Eddie’s voice, the DM fiddling absently with the rings on his long fingers the way he seemed to do when he was nervous or deep in thought.
“It’s good, man. Like really good,” Steve answered honestly. “Which I’m glad for since it’s really hard to pay attention to anything else when all you nerds are screaming about it.”
Eddie snorted next to him, leaning back in his seat and propping a foot up on the side of the center console; effortlessly cool as usual.
“Hey, a quiet game of DnD does not exist in my world,” he said with an easy grin Steve could just see out of the corner of his eye.
“Yeah. I’ve noticed,” Steve shot back with a playful nudge to a leather-clad shoulder.
Only Eddie Munson would be wearing a leather jacket in June.
They fell into a semi-comfortable silence, the only sound the motor of the car as it cruised down the slightly bumpy road, the clicking of rubble beneath the tires, and the rhythmic tapping of Eddie’s fingertips, slowly one two three, and then quickly one two three four one two three.
“Another One Bites the Dust?” Steve mused aloud, quickly glancing over at Eddie to see an expression of genuine but pleasant surprise on the older boy's face.
“Yeah,” he breathed a laugh, shaking his head as his eyes crinkled the way they did when he smiled a real smile.
“Finally broadening your musical horizons from just Springsteen, Heart, and Tears for Fears?”
Steve could feel his cheeks darken at that, his fingers tightening their grip around the steering wheel as the other boy laughed at him, not maliciously; Eddie didn’t have a malicious bone in his body.
“Hey, I knew Queen before we started hanging out, thank you very much,” Steve protested.
“I’m not completely uncultured! And Heart is a cool band! Just because they don’t play that screechy shit you like doesn’t mean they’re lame.”
“Oh, how terribly sorry I am to have offended your Excellency,” Eddie uttered dramatically with as deep a bow as he could manage without locking his seatbelt.
“Truly, ‘These Dreams’ is a musical masterpiece that shall go down in history if thou dost proclaim it so.”
Steve sighed heavily, glancing in the rear view mirror before taking a left turn.
“Yeah, because the lyrics ‘I wanna rock and roll all night and party everyday’ repeated over and over for three minutes are a great example of lyrical genius,” he snorted as Eddie shot him a very convincingly offended look, clutching at his guitar pick necklace like a lady clutching her pearls.
“Blasphemy,” he whispered in a scandalized manner before that grin broke out across his face, wide and sincere and…
Steve brought his eyes quickly back to the road as his tires screeched in warning. He hadn’t even realised he was looking away from it, sucked in completely by Eddie’s magnetic pull.
He tsked at himself, shoulders hunching to his burning ears as Eddie once again let out a peel of laughter, hugging himself around his stomach and hunching forward with shaking shoulders as if watching Steve embarrass himself was the funniest thing in the world.
“Ok ok, laugh it up, Munson,” he said, flapping a dismissive hand as he entered the trailer park, eyes searching for the now familiar sight of the Munson’s Mobile Home. Not the old hell portal one, but the shiny new government supplied one.
“For their troubles,” they’d said as if it were a mild inconvenience rather than a life altering, trauma inducing nightmare.
He pulled in beside Eddie’s tarp covered van, twisting his keys in the ignition to shut off the engine.
“Here we are. Home sweet home.”
Familiar anxiety twisted in his gut as he looked at the trailer.
Sure, it was a different place. Sure, El had closed the portal attached to the area.
Sure the entire party, the kids, Jonathan, Argyle, Robin, Nancy, and Steve had all come over to help Eddie clean out the old one, remove all of his and Uncle Wayne’s belongings from the rubble and away from the gruesome evidence of their spring break experience.
A few of them even chipped in to get Eddie a brand new mattress, which he gratefully accepted with a dark blush.
Even so, Steve couldn’t help but remember everything on the occasion that he came here, the images flashing through his mind as clearly as if he were still there.
The sight of Eddie stepping forward from his place beside Dustin, dark eyes filled with something intense and desperate as he told Steve to ‘make him pay’ was practically burned into his mind, as was the later sight of him sprawled across the bloodied earth surrounded by downed demobats, head in Dustin’s lap as he struggled to stay alive.
The memory never failed to bring wetness to Steve’s eyes and a lump to his throat.
Taking a deep breath to collect himself, he glanced over toward the other boy, mouth open to speak when his expression gave him pause.
His eyebrows were scrunched together under his messy bangs, one hand hovering over the buckle of his seat belt hesitantly, the other absently tracing over the shallow scars on his jaw, as he stared straight ahead at the aforementioned trailer with something like dread.
He looked almost sick.
Steve frowned, carefully reaching out to place a tentative hand on Eddie’s shoulder. The other boy unsurprisingly jumped at the contact, but quickly relaxed, almost leaning into it like he always did.
Steve had come to learn after several months that Eddie was quite fond of physical touch.
The metalhead really didn’t seem to have much of a concept of personal space when it came to someone he liked and trusted.
Oftentimes he would lean all of his weight on Steve, put an arm around his shoulders when they sat beside each other, walk so closely beside him that they would be touching from their shoulders to the backs of their hands.
He would hang all over Robin, drape himself across her lap like a spoiled house cat and allow her to scratch at his scalp absently whilst she chattered on and on about whatever had captured her attention for the moment.
Not even Nancy and Jonathan could escape him.
Once he was physically able to return to school to finish out the rest of the year and had managed to ditch his wheelchair, he would greet Nancy every morning by lifting and spinning her in a hug, the other students watching on in absolute bewilderment.
Once or twice he’d even gone so far as to lean in through the window of Jonathan’s car and greet him with a kiss to the cheek and a shit eating grin as Jonathan tiredly and resignedly mumbled out a:
“Morning Eddie.”
Steve remembered the odd feeling that’d shot through him as that particular story was recounted to him.
He had pretended to laugh with the others, but something in him hated the thought of it.
“You good, Munson?” he asked finally, his words seeming to effectively shake Eddie out of whatever stupor he’d found himself in.
He cleared his throat quickly, nodding as he unbuckled his seatbelt.
“Yeah, dude. Totally fine. Never been better,” he answered in a rush, quickly reaching his hand toward the car door.
Steve backed off, albeit reluctantly, at his words, busying himself with glancing back up through the windshield as if there was anything new to see past the double wide and Eddie’s covered van.
His eyes stopped suddenly on what looked very much like broken eggshells littering the ground as well as a single can of spray paint.
He tightened his grip on Eddie’s shoulder, holding him in place before he could make his exit.
“Eddie,” he started slowly, not taking his eyes off of the mess on the ground.
“What exactly happened to your van?”
The silence beside him was deafening, immediately confirming Steve’s suspicion quicker than words could.
“Who did it,” he questioned, his grave tone leaving no room for argument.
The silence stretched on, such a distinct difference from Eddie’s usual non-stop raving that Steve had to turn to make sure he was still breathing.
That he wasn’t petrified with his eyes rolling back in his head-
Eddie sat, biting at his lip and staring at his hands as he twisted the ring on his middle finger over and over and over.
Steve had never seen him so nervous or quiet. Eddie wasn’t quiet; not even when he’d been hiding out in that boathouse, a wanted man. Not even when he’d been in the Upside Down, post Demobat showdown with chunks of himself missing.
Eddie was loud and vibrant and full of life, always ready with a smile and a snappy comeback or a profound comment.
“Eddie,” Steve said again, squeezing his shoulder with a creak of leather.
“Who?”
“I… It’s nothing,” Eddie finally said with a shake of his head, hiding behind the hair falling around his face.
“Just some shitty kids with nothing better to do. I’m replacing the fuel filter tomorrow so it should be back up and running soon. The paint job’s a little fucked, but it already was, so…”
He shrugged, rubbing along the scar circling his neck and refusing to look Steve in the eye.
“No worries.”
“Ok,” Steve nodded slowly, leaning back in his seat as his eyes travelled back over to the covered van.
“Y’know, despite my reputation, I’m not stupid, man. I know it’s been a rough few months for you. People can be cruel, especially to someone they don’t understand. Just… let me know if it gets any worse.”
When Steve turned back to glance at Eddie again, the other boy had a new strange look on his face; one Steve couldn’t quite identify.
He looked conflicted, but there was something else there as well. Something that had his dark brows knitting together beneath his curls, his incredibly expressive eyes downcast towards his lap, and his pale cheeks tinged slightly pink.
He couldn’t imagine he’d embarrassed Eddie; at least he hoped he hadn’t. He wasn’t entirely certain Eddie could be embarrassed.
But then those eyes met his and Steve’s heart leapt up into his throat.
He would never get used to the openness of Eddie’s face, his expression always so earnest and real; realer than anyone Steve knew.
No bullshit.
He opened his mouth as if to reply, but hesitated, shaking his head as if what he planned to say was ridiculous.
Steve wondered what his threshold for ridiculous things to say was.
“That’s…” he started again, sighing as if the words were hard to get out, trapped on his tongue.
“That’s cool of you, man. Thanks,” he finally nodded, his tone so soft and so… tired.
Steve didn’t know how he’d missed the dark bags under Eddie’s eyes all this time.
Maybe it was because he made a conscious effort not to stare at the metalhead more than what was considered socially acceptable.
He looked exhausted, and Steve instantly understood why.
You didn’t go through what they had without a few souvenirs to remember your trip; Steve himself was still struggling with night terrors and sleep paralysis, and he imagined Eddie wasn’t much better off.
He wanted to reassure him somehow, but what could he say?
“Hey man, I’m sorry you had to watch a girl you kind of knew die in an absolutely horrific and graphic way only to be blamed for the death and violently hunted by the people you grew up with while also learning that monsters are real and your hometown is a fucking hellmouth for the monster dimension.
“I know it’s super shitty that you literally helped save the goddamn world and you’re still getting bullied and attacked by Jason Carver's religious zealots, but you can’t say anything because if you do you might get sent to the looney bin just like Victor Creel. Welcome to the gang!”
Instead, Steve placed his hand lightly on the back of Eddie’s neck, meeting his slightly startled gaze with as sincere a smile as he could muster.
“I just… I want you to know that you can talk to me. To any of us; Robin, Nancy, Jonathan… maybe not Argyle. I don’t know how much help he’d be.”
His smile widened in satisfaction as Eddie cracked a grin and snorted.
“But seriously. We’re here for you. I’m here for you,” he stressed, hand gently but firmly squeezing the back of Eddie’s neck, skin burning hot under his fingers.
Was it supposed to feel like that?
They sat together just like that for a moment, the seconds stretching out before them as Steve listened to Eddie breathe, watching the gentle rise and fall of his chest beneath his Hellfire shirt, a new one as the old one had been cut off of his body by frantic doctors.
His lips were parted, showing the barest sliver of the tip of his tongue held in between his teeth as he seemed to consider Steve’s words carefully.
“Thank you, Steve,” he breathed after what felt like an eternity, brown eyes turning toward him, shimmering like golden honey in the mixture of moonlight and the flickering yellow light above the door of his trailer that filtered in through the windshield.
He looked otherworldly, skin so pale and smooth, eyes so big and dark, lips so pink and soft.
Stop looking at his lips.
“Y-yeah,” Steve nodded dumbly before he could stop himself, a pit forming low in his stomach as Eddie smiled, not his usual huge grin or mischievous smirk, but a soft and sweet smile just for Steve, and why did everything feel so damn warm all of a sudden?
Steve was suddenly very conscious of his hand still resting on the back of Eddie’s neck, his body leant over the center console to reach so he was less than a foot from the other man.
So close he could smell him.
He smelled vaguely like Mountain Dew, leather, and day-old cologne, and Steve did his best to ignore the strange feeling twisting in his gut as he felt the other man’s breath ghost across his cheek.
Steve snapped back to reality as headlights flashed brightly in the rear view mirror, Eddie’s Uncle Wayne turning into the park and pulling up beside them.
“Um, yeah. No problem, man,” Steve said quickly, the sudden volume increase of his voice jarring in the previous almost reverent silence.
He removed his hand from Eddie’s burning hot skin, punching his shoulder perhaps a bit harder than he really meant to if the other boys slight wince was anything to go by.
The metalhead fixed him with a well humored smirk, reaching over and opening the door without Steve intercepting him this time.
He circled around to the back seat, pulling out his box and Mrs. Wheeler’s Tupperware before slamming the door shut with his hip.
“Thanks for the ride, my liege. I’ll catch ya later,” he called out with a dorky little bow as he walked up to the trailer, his uncle waiting there for him with a kind and patient smile.
Steve stayed put until the both of them were inside with the door closed behind them, and even after. He couldn’t compel himself to move right away.
He felt… strange.
His face was flushing, his heart pounding, his palms sweating like they used to before a big game. That twisting feeling in his gut remained, accompanied by a sense of… bewilderment?
He wasn’t sure how to categorize it.
He just knew he was off balance, over analyzing his breathing, and inexplicably clammy, but that was run of the mill after a conversation with Eddie Munson.
………