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Something about Steve changed after everything ended.
Everything was fine. Eddie was hospitalised for a while, but fine. Max was fine. El and Mike and Will and Jonathan came back, and they were fine. Owens pulled some government shut and Eddie’s charges were dropped. Hopper came back.
The gates closed for good. Vecna was dead.
And everything was fine.
Except that when Steve went home he wanted to take a shower.
Which he’s done.
Of course.
He’s taken hundreds, thousands, of showers. At home, at his friends’ houses, at the gym, at school.
But suddenly he couldn’t anymore.
His chest got tight as soon as he could see the bathroom door, and he ignored it. And then he couldn’t ignore it, because it felt like a building was on his chest as soon as the water turned on, and he couldn’t breathe, and he couldn’t see, and he was on the floor, desperately shutting the water off and crawling away. Hyperventilating, breathing so hard his throat was dry and his vision dimmed.
And what the fuck was he supposed to do about that?
Harringtons are not the kind of people who seek help.
Harringtons are not the kind of people who need help.
Steve doesn’t even remember his parents ever saying things like It’s going to be okay. He remembers And what do you want me to do about that? and That’s not my problem.
Things were not worked through, figured out, or solved. Things were dealt with. Sat through. Ignored until they weren’t problems anymore.
So that’s what he does. Avoids water.
The tightness of his chest and shortness of his breath is ignorable enough to wash his hands, to do the dishes, to drink water.
But he covers the pool outside so he can’t see it.
And uses dry shampoo. And wet wipes, deodorant, and cologne.
And he feels disgusting. And he hates himself more than he’s ever hated himself before.
Because it doesn’t go away.
———
The only time Steve ever remembers his parents going to the doctor was when he was eight. All he understood was that his mom found a lump. And his dad insisted it would be fine. Just leave it alone.. But a few weeks went by, and it didn’t go away.
So she went to the doctor. Steve’s dad drove her. Steve waited in the car. (He remembers because it was a hot day.) It was a cyst. She had it removed and it was fine.
Steve remembers his parents bickering. Arguing about the time they waited. His mom’s friends argued that she should have gone right away, that she shouldn’t have risked waiting so long. It could have been cancer, Barbara. Why would you risk that?
She’d waited three weeks.
Steve waits three weeks.
It doesn’t go away.
Then he calls Owens. Schedules an appointment to see him.
He cries when they hang up.
———
“So.”
“What’s up, dingus?”
“Uhm. Can you do me a favor?”
Robin blinks, shifting to face him as he stop at a stop sign. He doesn’t look at her.
“Yeah, sure, what?”
“Well, it’s— I guess it’s not really a favor, but I have, uhm. I have an appointment with Owens. Will you come with me?”
“Oh, God. Are you okay? Are the bites acting up? Are your migraines getting worse? Oh, God, did you find a lump? Is it near your armpits or collarbones, because there’s breast tissue there too, and men get breast cancer too, and people don’t talk about it nearly as much but—”
“Robin.” Steve grips the steering wheel tightly. “It’s not— It’s not cancer. I’m fine, ‘s just… a checkup.”
She’s quiet for a moment, as he grips the steering wheel and turns a corner, slowing the car for a cyclist that’s on the side of the road.
“Steve,” she says quietly. “What’s going on?”
“I, uhm.” He takes a shaky breath, and her hand lands on his forearm gently.
“Pull over for a minute, babe.”
He does, inhaling deeply, trying to ignore the burning in his eyes. She keeps holding his arm, her thumb brushing back and forth over his skin softly, reassuringly, and he closes his eyes, letting his head fall back against his seat. He hears Robin unbuckle her seat belt and turn to face him, pulling at his arm to hold his hand, lacing their fingers. Her rings are cold, but her hands are soft and warm, and he squeezes.
“Steve,” she whispers. “Talk to me. Is everything okay?”
“I’m…” He presses his other hand onto Robin’s, and hers tightens. “I’ve been having… a problem…” He stammers silently for a moment, before he says in a small voice, “…mentally.”
He’s shaking. Robin squeezes his arm.
“Do you wanna tell me what the problem is?”
“I’m…” He shifts in his seat, very much out of his comfort zone. “I’m sc…”
“Stevie,” Robin whispers, moving closer. “You’re scaring me, what is it?”
“You don’t have to— to be scared, Robbie, I’m just— I’ve been…”
She waits for him. Squeezes his arm softly, looks at him with her pretty eyes. Steve looks at the ceiling of the car, listening to the shaky sound of his breath that almost disappears in the sound of a car passing by them.
“I’m scared of water,” he says finally. He exhales.
“Scared of water,” she repeats quietly.
He nods.
“I’m scared— I’m scared of water. I can’t— I can’t shower, and I wanna cry when I wash my hands, and I don’t— I don’t know what to do about it, I just—“
“Okay,” Robin says, squeezing his arm again. “It’s okay, Steve.” She leans across the center console, hugging him tightly. “It’s alright.”
“It’s so stupid,” he chokes, holding her arm and squeezing his eyes shut, crying. “It’s just water, I’m so stupid.”
“You’re not stupid, Steve,” she says quietly. “You’re not stupid, it’s not your fault, babe.” He’s getting tears on her shirt. He chokes out an apology. “Don’t apologise, it’s okay.”
He groans softly, squeezing her arm. His whole body hurts.
“We’ll talk to Owens,” Robin says gently, petting his hair. “Right? And he’ll know what to do.”
“Robbie,” he says weakly.
“I know,” she whispers, kissing him temple. “I know, it’s okay.”
———
“So,” Owens says, rolling up to his desk with a friendly smile. “What’s been bothering you, Mr Harrington?”
“I, uhm…” He takes a shaky breath. Robin slides her hand into his. “I’ve been—“ His voice cuts off, and he swallows. “I’ve been scared of water,” he manages to say, the words tilting up like a question. Owens’s expression doesn’t change.
“Alright,” he says lightly, his hands on the desk. “Tell me what that entails.”
“I…” Robin squeezes. “I have this— this tightness in my chest whenever I think about… showering or the pool, or… And it, like, gets worse when I see water, or hear it, like— like to the point that I can’t breathe.” He pauses, squeezing Robin’s hand tightly. “I can— I can manage it to wash my hands or the dishes, but it’s like I’m holding my breath the whole time.”
“I see,” Owens says softly, nodding. “How long as this been going on?”
“Since…” Steve shrugs weakly. “Since it all ended. I tried to— to take a shower, but I just… felt like I was dying. I couldn’t breathe, and my vision got all blurry, and I— I—“
“‘S okay,” Robin says softly, squeezing his hand as his breath gets caught.
“That’s anxiety, Steve,” Owens says gently.
“Anxiety,” Steve repeats quietly.
Owns nods.
“That tightness in your chest,” Owens continues. “That fear. It’s anxiety. And when you couldn’t breathe or see, and you felt like you were dying,” he adds with raised eyebrows and a nod. “Sounds like a panic attack.”
Steve blinks. The floor is falling out from under him, and the feeling of Robin’s hand on his feels muffled, like it’s far away.
“But— But why?” Steve asks weakly, wanting to throw a tantrum. It’s not fair. It’s not fair that he’s survived this fucking long, survived childhood accidents and a shitty father and fist fights and inter-dimensional monsters, and now it’s water that’s his downfall. Water.
“Trauma,” Owens says gently. “I know it sounds ridiculous, but the anxiety is your brain trying to protect you.”
“I’m not gonna drown in the shower,” Steve complains, and Owens laughs lightly.
“Logically, you know that,” he says with a smile. “But to your brain, water means danger.”
“So what do I do?” Steve chokes, clutching at Robin’s hand.
“Well, unfortunately, there isn’t a magic pill that makes trauma go away,” Owens says. “But you can work on exposing yourself to water, slowly. Maybe start with listening to some water for a while, work on pacing your breathing. Remind yourself that you’re safe.”
Steve’s eyes burn.
“But just…” Owens pauses, leaning over the desk, looking at Steve so earnestly it hurts. “Go easy on yourself, Steve.”
Steve looks at the ground, rubbing his cheek. Robin laces their fingers.
“It’s not your fault,” Owens continues. “And if you keep at it, and if you’re patient, it’ll get easier. You may not get back to enjoying swimming the way you have in the past,” he says, and Steve is reminded of how well-known his past is. “But it’ll get easier.”
Robin’s other hand gently runs over his back.
“And,” Owens adds, smiling. “You have great friends. Support systems are important.”
Steve just nods.
Robin holds his hand all the way through the hospital, until they get back to the car, and then she holds it as he cries.
———
They have dinner in the living room, their legs tangled as they eat. Steve keeps drifting off, staring into space, at his plate, poking at his food with his fork, and she prompts him gently by nudging his leg.
“Hey, Robin?” he asks softly when they’re done, staring at his empty plate.
“Yeah?”
He hesitates, biting his lip and swallowing.
“…Will you— Will you help me wash my hair?”
She looks at him.
“Yeah,” she says softly. “Yeah, of course.”
They decide to use the kitchen sink. He finds a few towels from the linen closet while she gets his shampoo and conditioner, and it takes him a few minutes to sit in a chair in front of the sink before he allows her to turn on the tap.
As soon as he hears it his eyes burn, and his chest tightens even more, and he exhales sharply. His hand flies out and grabs at Robin’s leg.
“It’s okay,” she says softly, turning down the tap so the pressure is softer, and it’s quieter, but it’s still loud against the tin sink. “It’s just the sink, right?”
“Yeah,” he says breathlessly, squeezing her leg. “‘S just the sink, I’m just…”
“We’re just washing your hair,” she says softly, reaching down to hold his arm. “Take a deep breath, babe.”
He tries, squeezing his eyes shut. His chest rises and falls quickly with every breath, but Robin just holds him gently, whispering to him until her voice blurs with the sound of the water into white noise.
“Ready?” Robin asks quietly when his breathing slows, and he hesitates, taking a stuttering breath before he nods. “Tilt your head back.”
He does, hesitating, his muscles tight like they’re trying to get away from him. Robin keeps murmuring to him.
The edge of the sink is cold against his neck even through the folded towel that they out there to soften it. Steve holds onto Robin’s leg as she uses a cup to wet his hair. When the water touches him, he gasps, and his eyes fly open, and he half expects to see the bottom of Lover’s Lake.
But he just sees Robin, her sleeves rolled up to her elbows, her hair tucked behind her ears, her brows furrowed in focus.
“It’s okay,” Robin says quietly. Her fingers are gentle in his hair, pushing water through it while he tries to breath. “You’re safe, right?”
“Yeah,” he gasps. “I’m safe, yeah.”
The smell of the shampoo is nice. Steve hadn’t realised that he’d missed it.
They have to take a break after shampooing, and Steve sits up. They leave the water running so Steve doesn’t have to get used to it again, and Robin dries her hands to hold Steve’s.
They take a few deep breaths together.
Steve cries. She wipes his tears away.
He feels like he’s been running. His heart is pounding, beating too fast, and he’s almost panting, and he’s almost lightheaded. It feels too quiet when the water shuts off, but with the silence, the weight on Steve’s chest comes off, and he takes a breath. He’s still shaking.
Robin helps him dry his hair off when they’re done, scrunching it gently with a towel, and then she hugs him tightly. He wraps his arms around her waist, his head resting on her torso. He’s getting her shirt wet, but neither of them care.
His shoulders shake when he starts to cry again, and she moves to sit across his lap, dropping the towel to the ground and wrapping her arms around his neck.
“You did so good, Steve,” she whispers, rocking him back and forth. “You did it.”
“I’m so sick of this,” he chokes, sobbing into her neck. His whole body aches.
“I know,” she says kindly. “It’s gonna get easier, Steve, I promise.”
When he stops crying they move to the living room, still tangled together, and Steve falls asleep with his head on her chest as she detangles his hair.
———
He knows that Robin loves him. That she cares about him. That she wants to help him.
She does help him, every chance she gets. Asks if he needs help tonight, so casually and easily that he can’t be embarrassed. Washes his hair in the sink, takes deep breaths with him, whispers that he’s safe and that he’s okay. She’s patient and careful and kind, and in the moment, with the sound of water filling the air and the feeling of water on his head, it helps.
But he still hates himself for it.
It’s pathetic. He’s embarrassed.
He’s always hated feeling embarrassed. He remembers hiding his face in grade school whenever he was scolded, covering his heat-flushed cheeks and tear-filled eyes. He remembers keeping secrets and crying at night just thinking about the possibility of people finding out about them.
He remembers adrenaline and his heart beating too fast, and the desire to hide from everyone else, and that desire is back, even though only Owens and Robin know, and neither of them are judging him.
But it feels like everyone knows.
The same way it felt like everyone knew about that thing in his chest as a kid, in high school. Like everyone could see the way his body ached when he saw a pretty boy, the way he actively repressed his wants and wishes and hopes.
And now it feels like everyone can see all of that and the fear that’s taken over his life. Every speck of dirt that doesn’t come off of his skin with wet wipes and towels.
He listens to water by himself. Stands over the sink and plugs it, watches it flood. He can feel his heart pounding in his chest. It’s too fast. His hearing isn’t great, but the water still feels too loud.
The sink is metallic, shining under the water, reflecting the golden glow of the overhead light.
He shuts the tap off when the sink is full and watches the final drops ripple across the surface. He stands there until the water stops moving, staring. And staring. And staring.
Until he finally, slowly, carefully, reaches out and touches it. Drags his shaking finger across the surface and watches it ripple away from his skin. His breath catches in his throat, but he inhales all the way, holds it, exhales slowly.
He traces his fingertip over the water, figure eights and wavy lines and hearts and stars like he’s doodling. He barely goes past his nail in the water, just watching it.
When he pulls his hand away, he grips the edge of the sink again, taking a shuddering breath.
“Okay,” he breathes.
His sets his hand over the water again, hovering above the surface, and he inhales deeply before he pushes his hand into it. His breath catches again, and he whimpers, resisting the urge to pull his hand away, to leave the room.
It’s not as warm as he thought it would be.
He shivers, pushing his hand in deeper, to his wrist.
“‘S fine,” he says quietly to himself. “‘S just water.”
It’s just water.
He’s been in water.
He was co-captain of the swim team for two years. He used to go to beach when his parents went on holiday, before they started leaving him behind. He’d swim in the sea with a vague warning of riptides from his mother. (Once he lost his goggles in the water. He cried before getting back to shore. His father wasn’t happy.)
He pushes his hand in deeper.
The water is almost to his elbow by the time his fingertips reach the plug, and he exhales sharply, almost smiling. He blinks hard, and a tear falls, and he pulls the plug. He leaves his hand in the water as he watches it drain.
He washes his hair himself the next day, leaning over the sink and holding his breath as he uses a plastic bowl to scoop water on his head like he’s getting ready to dive. And then he sits on the floor, towel-drying his hair as he cries.
He tells Robin the next day, and she hugs him so tightly he can’t breathe.
It gets easier. Over weeks.
He puts his hands in water every night, fills the sink up and plays with the water until his heart slows down. He spends more time washing his hands than he really has to, just to listen to the water, let it run over his hands.
Until it’s not easy anymore, and he kind of wants to die. Because last night he played with the water for like fifteen minutes, and today he’s scared of even turning on the tap. He stares into the empty sink for a while, tapping the edge of it anxiously, his heart in his throat.
I’ve done this before. It’s just water. It’s just the kitchen sink.
But when he turns the tap on, his vision blurs, and his breath escapes in a strained gasp, and suddenly he doesn’t want to die anymore.
He shuts the water off, blinking tears away, but it feels like there’s something on his chest, and he falls to the floor, gasping for breath. Somewhere in his mind he remembers Owens’s voice.
Sounds like a panic attack.
His hand rubs at his chest so hard the material of his shirt is scratching his skin. He squeezes his eyes shut. Lets his head fall back to the cabinet behind him.
When it goes away, and he can breathe like a normal person, he reaches into the fridge for a beer.
———
He stops asking Robin for help. Even though she offers it. He manages the kitchen and bathroom sinks, washing his hands and dishes and his hair all in record time because he can’t stand it.
He stops going out except to drive the kids around.
He stops looking the others in their eyes as much. He feels like they can see right through him. See that he’s falling apart.
He stays home. Sad. Lonely. Drunk, a lot of the time.
He still fills the sink with water every night, plays with the water for as long as he can manage before he sits on the floor and breathes with his eyes closed. When he tries to turn on the shower, it sends him into another panic attack.
So he explores his dad’s liquor cabinet.
The bottles clink together as he rummages through them, and he doesn’t bother finding a glass, instead just unscrewing cap of a bottle and flicking it across the room before bringing the bottle to his lips.
—————————
Eddie pulls into the driveway of the Harrington mansion. All the lights are on downstairs, and he hesitates, shutting off the van. Steve’s car is next to him, and the ground under it is dry even though it’s been raining for the past few days.
He gets out and knocks on the door, biting his lip anxiously. He has to knock again before he hears a clammer inside, and he tilts his head, waiting until the door swings open.
Steve looks…
Rough.
His hair is stringy and greasy looking, and the bags under his eyes are dark, almost purple. The sweater he’s wearing is full of holes, hanging off his shoulder, and his eyes are narrowed and glazed over.
Eddie can smell booze.
“Stevie,” he breathes.
Steve blinks at him, still holding the door.
“Eddie?” he asks weakly. His voice is slurred.
“Yeah,” Eddie says softly. “Can I come in?”
Steve stares for a moment longer before he gives him a jerky, childish nod and steps aside so Eddie can enter. He takes off his jacket while the door shuts, and hangs it up, already reaching out for Steve.
He hasn’t really hung out with him. Ever.
After everything ended, everyone went home, and Eddie’s hopes of spending time with him were dashed. He only sees him when he’s driving the kids to Eddie’s. (Which is now a small apartment in town; the government took over the trailer, but allowed him and Wayne back to get all their things. Wayne was happy to get all his mugs and trucker hats. Eddie was happy to get his sweetheart.)
But somehow it’s still easy, reaching out to Steve and touching his face carefully.
“You been drinking, honey?” he asks, the softness slipping out. He half expects Steve’s expression to harden, for Steve to smack his hand away.
But Steve looks like he melts, his eyes closing, and he nods. His lip trembles.
“Yeah?” Eddie moves closer, holding Steve’s face. His eyelashes are clumped together like he’s been crying. “How much?”
Steve shrugs weakly, mumbling something that sounds vaguely like I don’t know.
“No?” He brushes his thumbs over Steve’s cheeks. “‘S okay.”
Steve melts into his arms, slumping against him, and Eddie catches him, swaying until he finds his balance.
“Will you let me take care of you tonight?” Eddie asks softly, running a hand over his spine. The sweater is worn and thin, and he can feel the heat of Steve’s skin through it. Steve nods into his neck with a quiet Yeah.
“I want you to drink some water, okay?”
Steve exhales sharply, his breath on Eddie’s neck.
“Okay,” he says, his voice thin.
“C’mere.”
Eddie takes his hand, leading him in the kitchen. His hand is shaking, and it makes Eddie’s chest hurt.
There’s a pile of dishes on the counter, but the sink is empty, the plug sitting at the bottom by the drain. Eddie finds a glass and fills it, turns to find Steve leaning against the dining table, watching him, wide-eyed.
Eddie stands by Steve while he drinks the water, his eyes closed as he sips at it slowly, and Eddie rubs his back gently, watching his throat move with every sip.
“Okay?” Eddie asks when Steve tips the glass, swallowing the last of the water, and Steve’s eyes flutter open, looking at the glass as if in awe.
“I finished it,” he says softly, looking at Eddie with a little smile.
“Yeah, you did,” Eddie says gently, taking the glass. “Good job, Stevie.”
Steve’s cheeks flush and his smile falters, but Eddie’s grows.
“You wanna be good for me, Steve?” he whispers, sliding a hand up his back to his neck. Steve stumbles toward him, nodding. “Yeah?”
“Yeah,” Steve breathes. His hands find Eddie’s waist, gripping his shirt tightly.
“Okay,” Eddie says softly, lifting a hand to trace Steve’s cheek lightly. “Want you to get some rest. You can go and… I don’t know, take a nice bath before bed, or—”
“No,” Steve interrupts quickly, his hands tightening on Eddie’s shirt.
“No?”
“No bath,” Steve says almost breathlessly. “I can’t— I don’t wanna.”
“Okay,” Eddie says gently, pressing his palm to his cheek and nodding. “You don’t have to, it’s okay.”
Steve exhales sharply, closing his eyes, turning his face into Eddie’s hand.
“I don’t wanna,” he says again.
“It’s okay.”
He hugs Steve carefully, swaying with him, and Steve buries his face in his neck again.
“Take a deep breath for me, Stevie,” Eddie murmurs. He does. It’s shaky, trembling. “Good boy, one more time.”
A soft sound escapes Steve, a quiet sort of whimper, and he pushes his face further into Eddie’s neck, inhaling deeply, holding it, and exhaling.
“There you go,” Eddie says quietly. “Good job.”
He holds him for a little while longer, swaying and whispering that everything is okay.
“You wanna go to bed, honey?” Eddie asks gently.
“Wanna drink,” Steve mumbles into his neck.
“No more tonight,” Eddie says. “You don’t wanna get sick.” Steve just groans quietly. “Come on, Stevie, bedtime.”
“Stay with me,” Steve slurs, holding his hand as he leads him to the stairs, flicking off the kitchen light behind them. “Don’t go.”
“I’ll stay with you,” Eddie says gently. “Come on.”
Steve trips on the first step, and Eddie sighs, turning to him and carefully slipping his arm under Steve’s and pulling him to himself.
“C’mere, sweetheart,” he says gently, sliding his hands to Steve’s thighs, picking him up. Steve groans quietly, his arms wrapping around Eddie’s neck. “I got you.”
Steve doesn’t let go when Eddie sets him on the bed, his arms tightening and pulling Eddie down on top of himself. Eddie tries to pull away, but Steve whimpers.
“No, please,” he chokes, pushing his face into Eddie’s neck again. “Don’t go, Eddie, please.”
“Okay, okay,” Eddie says gently, lowering himself to rest on top of Steve, carefully running his fingers through his hair. It’s greasy, and Eddie can smell it, but he doesn’t care. “I’m not going anywhere, Stevie, I got you.”
“‘M sorry,” Steve says weakly. It sounds like he might crying.
“You don’t have to apologise to me, Stevie, it’s okay.”
“‘M a fuckin’ mess, Eddie,” Steve says. “‘M a mess, and I can’t— I can’t do anything.”
Eddie hushes him softly, carefully rolling onto his side and pulling Steve against himself. The light is still on. Neither of them care.
“It’s okay,” he whispers. “We can talk tomorrow, okay?”
“Okay,” Steve says in a small voice.
“Go to sleep, Stevie.”
“Okay.”
Eddie stays awake for hours after Steve drifts off, running his hand through his hair, staring up at the ceiling. The overhead light is dim, dimmer than the lights of the kitchen and living room. Steve smells like liquor and body odour and cologne, and Eddie’s mind wanders back to the dishes in the kitchen, the bottles on the table. The way Robin’s eyes followed him last time he left while everyone was hanging out.
He wakes up before Steve in the morning and carefully detaches them, lifting Steve’s arm off himself and moving away, watching Steve’s brows furrow before he shifts, nuzzling his face into the pillow.
Eddie gets a glass of water and a painkiller for him after searching cabinets for medicine and leaves them on the bedside table before he goes back downstairs.
He has to explore the kitchen to find where to leave the liquor bottles. He finds an empty bottle in the living room, and under the sink he finds a recycling bin. He washes the dishes and explores the kitchen again to find where to put them away.
He’s sliding a plate into place in a cabinet when he hears Steve enter the kitchen, and he turns around with a soft smile.
Steve is staring at him, eyes narrowed in the bright morning sunlight. His sweater is draping off his shoulder again.
“Good morning, sunshine,” Eddie says brightly.
“Hi.”
“How do you feel?”
“Head hurts,” Steve says quietly, still eyeing Eddie like he’s suspicious.
“I left a pain killer on the bedside—“
“I took it.”
“Okay,” Eddie says softly. They look at each other for another moment, and Eddie leans against the counter. “C’mere.”
Steve goes to him.
Eddie touches his face, holds it between his hands, watches his expression relax. His skin is soft. He’s still warm from bed.
“You okay?” Eddie asks softly.
Steve’s eyes fall, shining, and he shakes his head.
“No.”
Eddie’s heart splits a little more. He wraps his arms around Steve’s neck and hugs him, pulling him close, and Steve’s arms wrap around his waist tightly. He’s shaking again.
“Why’d you come over last night?” Steve asks when they part after a few moments. His forehead presses to Eddie’s shoulder.
“Wanted to check on you,” Eddie says softly. “Noticed that Robin seemed worried and just… I asked her what was going on.”
Steve stiffens.
“What did she say?” he asks without moving.
“Just that you’re going through something,” Eddie says, running a hand over the back of his head soothingly. “She didn’t give me any specifics, just that… that you haven’t asked her for help in a while. She was worried.”
“Oh.” He tucks his face into Eddie’s neck. He seems to like it there.
“What’s going on, sweetheart?” Eddie asks quietly.
Steve hesitates, his fingers tightening in Eddie’s shirt.
“It’s stupid.”
“It’s not stupid, Steve,” Eddie argues gently. “It it’s affecting you this much, it’s not stupid.”
Steve pushes his face into Eddie’s neck even more.
“You don’t have to tell me,” Eddie says softly. “If you don’t want to.”
“I do want to,” Steve says weakly. “I just… ‘S hard to say.”
Eddie reaches down and carefully lifts him again, tugging at his thighs so they wrap around Eddie’s waist, and he turns to set him on the counter.
Steve keeps his arms around Eddie’s neck. and Eddie rubs his hips gently.
“You won’t tell anyone,” Steve says quietly. “Right?”
“Of course not,” Eddie tells him.
“Only Robin and Owens know,” Steve says. He lifts his head and looks into Eddie’s eyes intently. Eddie’s chest aches.
“Okay.”
“I, uhm…” He slides his hands over Eddie’s arms to his hands, and he’s shaking again as he squeezes. Eddie carefully shifts them to hold his hands between them, lifting one to his lips to kiss his knuckles.
“Talk to me.”
Steve’s eyes train on their hands.
“…I’m scared of water,” he says finally.
“Okay,” Eddie says softly, because he has to say something. He can’t just leave that alone.
“Like— Like scared,” Steve says. “I have a— a fucking phobia, and I can manage, like, drinking water and washing my hands most of the time, but it’s— it’s fucking ridiculous.”
“‘S not ridiculous, Steve,” Eddie says gently, squeezing his hands, remembering his soft I finished it last night after drinking the water, a flash of pride bursting in his chest. Steve squeezes his eyes shut and falls against Eddie. He’s crying. “It’s okay, honey.”
“I fucking hate myself, Eddie,” Steve chokes.
“Don’t say that, Steve.” Eddie shakes his head, tears stinging his eyes, and he pulls at Steve’s hands, pulling him closer. “Don’t say that.”
“I do,” Steve cries. “It’s so— so stupid, I’m scared of fucking water, and I can’t even shower, it’s so—”
“Steve, hey,” Eddie interrupts, pulling Steve’s hand to his chest and holding it to himself. “Breathe, honey.”
A deep, helpless sob escapes Steve, and he falls forward against him, his hand pressed to Eddie’s chest. Eddie releases his hands and hugs him tightly, a hand cradling the back of his head.
“I got you,” he murmurs. “It’s gonna be okay, Stevie.”
When Steve stops crying, Eddie’s shirt is wet with his tears. He rubs his back gently, over his spine, feeling the folds and wrinkles of his sweater.
“It’s not stupid to be scared of something,” Eddie says softly.
Steve lifts his head, wiping his cheek, one of his hands holding Eddie’s shoulder, gripping the fabric of his shirt. He’s looking down again, at where Eddie’s torso meets the insides of his thighs, there’s an aching sort of emptiness in his eyes that makes Eddie’s whole body hurt.
Steve is almost silent when he speaks again, but his words still echo around the kitchen.
“I kinda wanna die.”
The world falls away from under Eddie’s feet, and his hands tighten on Steve as his vision blurs. Steve looks up at him after a few silent moments, his eyes meeting Eddie’s, and he reaches up to wipe a tear from Eddie’s cheek.
“I’m not gonna kill myself,” he whispers, like it’s supposed to make Eddie feel better. “You don’t have to worry.”
“You understand I’m still gonna worry,” Eddie says, raising his eyebrows, and Steve huffs out a small laugh, nodding.
“I know,” he says, looking away again. One of his hands presses to Eddie’s chest. “‘S why I haven’t told Robin.”
Eddie blinks tears back, swallowing thickly. He holds Steve’s hand to himself.
“All that time trying to survive in the Upside Down,” he starts softly, almost whispering, but Steve interrupts.
“I wasn’t trying to survive, Eddie.”
Eddie closes his eyes, furrowing his eyebrows. He presses his other hand to Steve’s waist, holding him tightly.
“I just wanted to make sure everyone else did,” Steve finishes, his voice so quiet that Eddie wouldn’t be able to hear it across the room. He opens his eyes, looking at Steve, his vision swimming.
Steve lets go of him and reaches to his face, wiping his tears away when they fall.
“I’m not gonna kill myself,” he says again, and Eddie shakes his head. “I wouldn’t do that.”
“You are the only person alive that hates you,” Eddie says abruptly, his voice shaking. “You know that?”
Steve stares at him for a moment.
“My parents hate me,” he says quietly.
“Fuck them,” Eddie says adamantly. A soft laugh escapes Steve, and his smile is beautiful enough that it makes Eddie soften. “I’m serious, Steve. The— The kids and everyone, the party, we all fucking love you, Stevie.”
That’s the only way he can get it out right now.
Steve blinks at him, his lip trembling.
“Even if I’m a train wreck of a human?”
“No matter what.”
Steve closes his eyes and falls forward, hiding his face in Eddie’s neck, and Eddie wraps his arms around him tightly. Steve’s legs wrap around his waist.
“I’m so tired, Eddie,” he says quietly.
“I know, baby. ‘S gonna be okay.”
Steve relaxes against him, like he’s melting, and Eddie sways with him gently.
“Here,” Eddie murmurs when Steve pulls away after a while. “You promise me… that you won’t kill yourself,” he says softly, watching Steve’s lips quirk into a small smile. “Or hurt yourself,” he adds, and Steve gives him a small nod. “And I promise that living will get easier.”
Eddie holds up his pinkie finger between them, and Steve looks down at it before he tentatively hooks his own pinkie around it.
“Okay?” Eddie says softly. Steve nods.
Eddie lifts their hands and leaves a gentle kiss on Steve’s knuckles.
“I feel better,” Steve says, his finger tightening around Eddie’s.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.” His legs shift around Eddie’s waist, pulling him closer. “Think I’ve… left all that locked away inside me for a long time.” He pauses, sighing softly, looking at their hands. “Was kinda nice to say it out loud.”
Eddie hums quietly and brings his hand back to his lips.
“You can tell me anything, Stevie,” he says softly. “If you ever need someone,” he adds, whispering. “If you’re scared. Or if you just… wanna take your mind off things. You can call me.”
Steve gazes down at him for a moment, moving to hold his hand between his own.
“Thank you.”
“What do you wanna do today?” Eddie asks him.
Steve’s tongue swipes over his lips, and he looks back down at their hands.
“Wanna take a shower. But…”
“Hey.” Eddie touches his chin, tilts it so Steve looks at him, and then he hesitates, looking into Steve’s eyes. “…You want me to go with you?” Steve’s eyes flick back and forth between his before he nods. “Yeah?”
“Yes. Please.”
“Okay,” Eddie whispers, brushing his thumb over Steve’s chin. “You’re in charge,” he says softly, earnestly. “If you change your mind, we’ll stop. If you wanna take a break, try again later, that’s okay. We can go slow.”
Steve nods, taking a shaky breath.
He holds Eddie’s hand the whole way upstairs to his bathroom, and Eddie can already see his fear in his eyes.
“Can we— Can we listen to it first?” Steve asks, his back to the wall across the room as Eddie goes to figure out the faucet, pausing to take off his rings and leave them on the counter by the sink. “For a while? That’s what, uhm. Robin and I do when she— when she washes my hair.”
“Of course,” Eddie says gently. His voice echoes in the bathroom, bounces off the pretty tile and glass. The shower is a walk-in shower, with a glass wall instead of a curtain, the tiles pale green. “Ready?” he asks, holding the faucet and turning to look at Steve, who inhales deeply and closes his eyes, his arms crossed over his chest like he’s hugging himself. He nods.
Eddie turns the water on, and Steve flinches, furrowing his brows.
“You got it,” Eddie says gently, turning the temperature up and holding his hand under the stream to feel it.
He goes back to Steve when it’s hotter, stepping in front of him.
“Hey,” he says softly. Steve opens his eyes, and it takes a moment for them to focus on him.
“Hi,” he says breathlessly. Eddie smiles.
“Deep breath,” he instructs quietly, nodding when Steve inhales. “We’ll ease into it. Nice and slow.”
He holds his hand up, showing Steve his wet fingers, and Steve looks at it, staring for a moment before he slowly, carefully takes it, getting his own fingers wet as he exhales.
“You’re okay,” Eddie whispers. The spray of the water is loud, but they’re standing close enough that Eddie can hear him breathing. “I’m right here.”
Steve holds his hand, closes his eyes, breathing heavily. When he opens his eyes, they flick across Eddie’s face in a panic.
“Hey,” Eddie says lightly. “Stevie.”
Steve blinks at him, his breathing rapid.
“Hey, where are you right now?” Eddie asks, lacing their fingers and squeezing.
“I’m…” Steve takes a sharp breath, blinking hard, looking at Eddie intently. “At home.”
“‘S right,” Eddie says, smiling. “Good job.” Steve exhales again, blinking at him. “And you’re safe here,” he adds gently. “I’m
not gonna let anything happen to you.”
Steve’s eyes close, and he takes a deep breath.
“Okay,” he breathes.
“Ready?”
Steve nods, his jaw set. Eddie reaches slowly for the hem of his sweater, still looking into his eyes as his breath stutters, catches in his throat.
“You can change your mind,” Eddie says softly.
“…I’m not.”
He lifts his arms so Eddie can pull his sweater off his head, and Eddie drops the sweater to the ground, letting Steve grab his hand and hold it himself. His eyes scan over Steve’s chest, over his torso that’s been mutilated and healed, the scars pale and silvery. Eddie wants to touch them. He wants to kiss them.
After a few more deep breathes, Steve reaches out and pulls at the hem of Eddie’s shirt, so Eddie tugs it off, dropping it to join Steve’s sweater on the ground. Steve’s eyes flick across Eddie’s scars and his chest and land on his tattoos.
He lifts his hand to the spider, traces it lightly with a fingertip.
“You like it?” Eddie asks quietly. Steve nods.
“You’re pretty,” Steve says softly, his cheeks flushing pink, and Eddie grins. Steve slumps against him, tucking his face into Eddie’s neck, and he inhales deeply, his hands sliding over Eddie’s waist. Eddie runs his hands over his back.
Steam is filling the room. The mirror is fogging over. Eddie closes his eyes, feeling Steve shift as he reaches to push his sweatpants and underwear down, as he kicks them away, and Eddie does the same. He can feel Steve’s chest rise and fall against his with every breath.
Eddie turns his face to press his lips to Steve’s temple.
“You’re being so brave,” he murmurs softly, almost under his breath. Steve’s hands slide over his waist again, hugging him, and Eddie holds him close. “‘M so proud of you.”
“Can you go in first?” Steve asks quietly.
“Course.”
They part after another moment, their fingers tangled and lingering until they fall away as Eddie steps backwards toward the shower.
Eddie slips when he steps in, catching himself by grabbing the glass wall of the shower and looking up, wide-eyed, at Steve, whose hand is clapped over his mouth. They stare for a moment, and then Steve snorts, his eyes sparkling, and Eddie’s heart swells.
“I’m fine,” he says, standing up straight.
“You’re gonna traumatise me even more,” Steve says.
“I’ll try not to.”
He tips his head back and gets his hair wet in the water, feeling Steve’s eyes on him. The water pressure is better than at the trailer, and it’s hotter than any shower he’s had before, and he sighs, dragging his fingers through his hair to untangle it.
He leans against the glass, looking over Steve, who’s watching him with wide eyes, his arms around himself again.
“Ready?” Eddie asks gently. Steve pauses, looking at him, taking a sharp breath, and he nods jerkily, stepping forward. Eddie glances over his body. He’s beautiful.
He holds a hand out, and Steve takes it when he’s close enough, trembling, staring intently at Eddie. Eddie nods, smiling softly at him and pulling him into the shower. Steve gasps when his feet find the wet ground, and his hand tightens on Eddie’s.
“You got it,” Eddie says gently, touching Steve’s face carefully. Steve’s eyes flutter, flooded with tears, and Eddie nods. “You’re okay, sweetheart, I got you.”
Steve exhales shakily, eyes wide, staring at Eddie, and he freezes before he’s in the spray of the water, his hand tightening on Eddie’s.
“You wanna stay here for a minute?” Steve nods. ”Okay.”
Steve is breathing hard, his chest rising and falling, and Eddie steps closer, holding his face.
“Slow, sweetheart,” he says softly. “All the way in.”
Steve gasps for breath, squeezing his hand and reaching to hold Eddie’s shoulder tightly, his nails digging into his skin. He inhales deeply, looking at Eddie desperately, and Eddie nods, pushing his hand into Steve’s hair. He can feel Steve’s breath on his face when he exhales.
“You’re doing so well, Stevie,” Eddie murmurs.
“Eddie,” Steve breathes, stepping closer, and Eddie smiles.
When he’s close enough, Steve releases his hand, wrapping his arms around Eddie’s neck tightly, breathing hard. Their bodies press together, and Eddie closes his eyes, holding Steve against himself.
“So brave, Stevie,” he whispers. Steve holds him tightly, his breath against Eddie’s neck, and he’s trembling, but Eddie can feel his chest rushing and falling steadily. Eddie smiles, his eyes burning.
He doesn’t know how long they stand there, holding each other just outside the stream of water, in the mist and steam, but after a while, Steve shifts, pressing his forehead to Eddie’s shoulder.
“Okay,” he says quietly.
“Okay?”
Steve nods, lifting his head, looking past Eddie to the water, and he takes a breath.
“Okay.”
“You ready?” Eddie asks softly. Steve nods, his hands holding onto Eddie’s upper arms. “What do you need?”
Steve sniffs, looking at Eddie’s tattoos again.
“I need you to keep touching me,” he says, his voice shaking. “And— and keep t—talking to me.”
“Okay,” Eddie says, nodding, reaching to hold Steve’s face between his hands. “I can do that.”
“Okay.” Steve takes a deep breath, closing his eyes for a moment before he opens them and looks at Eddie again.
Slowly, he steps to the side, and they turn so Steve is close to the water. His eyes widen, and his breath quickens, and Eddie pulls him closer until their bellies and legs touch, and Steve’s eyes close.
“You got it, baby,” Eddie murmurs. “You’re okay.”
“I’m okay,” Steve repeats, his voice high and strained. Eddie nods. The water hits Steve’s back, and his eyes fly open, his hands clutching at Eddie desperately, his breath fast and hard. “Eddie—”
“You got it,” Eddie says encouragingly. “You’re okay, Stevie, it’s okay.”
“Fuck,” Steve gasps. “Oh my god, I—“
“You’re doing so well, Stevie,” Eddie says, smiling. Steve’s hair is getting wet, falling in his face, and Eddie pushes it away tenderly, leaning close and pressing a kiss to Steve’s cheek. “I’m right here, I got you.”
Steve squeezes his eyes shut, pulling Eddie close so their foreheads press together, panting. Eddie runs his hands over Steve’s arms, over his back and ass and thighs, rubbing his skin hard.
Steve whimpers Eddie’s name.
“You’re so brave, honey,” Eddie whispers.
He holds Steve’s face in his hands again, and Steve’s eyes flutter, a tear falling down his cheek. Eddie wipes it away.
“You okay?”
Steve exhales.
“‘M okay.”
They stay there for a moment, standing under the spray of the water, while Steve catches his breath.
“Can I wash your hair?” Eddie asks softly. Steve nods, his gaze still trained on him. Eddie reaches past him, looking through the bottles carefully until his finds the shampoo. Steve’s eyes fall shut as Eddie pushes his hands through his hair. “Alright?”
“Feels good,” Steve says softly, his hands pressing to Eddie’s waist. Eddie kisses his forehead.
“I’m gonna tip your head back to rinse it, okay?”
Steve takes a breath. Nods. Tightens his grip on Eddie.
Eddie touches his chin, tilting his head back, and Steve’s breath sharpens. Eddie is still smiling, running his hands through Steve’s overgrown hair until it’s smooth. He repeats it all with conditioner, whispering to Steve all the while to make sure he’s okay, and Steve doesn’t let go of him until Eddie reaches for the soap and washcloth. Eddie washes him carefully, tenderly, rinsing and wiping soap away until Steve is clean.
Steve’s eyes are glazed over when he finishes, and when Eddie checks in with him gently, he just pulls him into a hug. He’s crying.
Eddie wraps his arms around his waist, pressing his hands into the small of his back and holding him close.
“Thank you,” Steve chokes, his fingers pushing into Eddie’s wet hair, and Eddie wheezes his eyes shut.
“Anything you need, Steve,” he murmurs. “I’ll give you anything you need.”
Steve is shaking when they dry off together, but he takes Eddie’s hand after they wrap their towels around themselves and leads him to his room. Eddie looks around the house as he follows. He didn’t get a good look last night in the dark, focussed on Steve, but now in the afternoons light all he finds are blank walls.
Steve pushes clothes into his hands wordlessly, some boxers and black sweatpants and a red sweater, and they dress in silence. Steve falls into his arms when they’re dressed, and Eddie catches him, laughing softly.
“‘M so fuckin’ tired,” Steve groans.
Eddie tugs him closer, picking him up, smiling when Steve’s legs wrap around him again.
“You feel better?”
“Mhmm.” Steve tucks his face into Eddie’s neck. “So much better,” he mumbles.
“You wanna take a nap?”
“Fuck. Please.”
Eddie laughs softly, moving to set Steve on the bed, but Steve pulls him down on top of himself again, making him laugh harder.
“Stay.”
“Okay.”
He falls asleep not long after Steve does, to the feeling of Steve’s fingers under the sweater, pressed to his skin, to the smell of his shampoo.
—————————
Eddie leaves the next day, taking Steve’s sweater (and boxers and sweatpants) with him. Steve says goodbye at the door, hugging him and smiling, blushing when Eddie peppers kisses across his cheeks and forehead.
“Will you come over soon?” Steve asks, tilting his head so Eddie can kiss his cheek.
“Course,” Eddie murmurs.
Steve leans against the doorframe, watching him go. He already kind of misses him.
When he’s gone, Steve goes back inside, tidies up the living room and does a load of laundry.
There are dishes in the sink. He washes them. Lets his hands run under the tap a little longer while the dishes sit on the drying rack, dripping. The water is warm. His heart is still pounding, but he closes his eyes, takes deep, steady breaths. Eddie’s eyes are in Steve’s head, dark and shining and smiling.
You’re being so brave.
I’m so proud of you.
Steve takes a deep breath, opening his eyes and looking at the water. Watching it run over his hands, hit the bottom of the sink.
He stays there for twenty minutes.
Robin comes over in the evening, take-away pizza in hand, and she freezes when he opens the door, staring at him. He suppresses a smile.
“Something’s different,” she says, raising an eyebrow.
“I’ll tell you when we eat.”
“…Okay.”
They sit on the sofa, wrapped in blankets, pizza between them.
“So?” Robin says, mouth full. The blanket is up around her head, and she’s rocking back and forth happily.
“So, uh.” Steve pauses. “Eddie came over.”
Her chewing slows, and she stares at him, nodding.
“Uh-huh.” She pauses to swallow. “He asked me what was going on, I didn’t— I didn’t tell him anything specific, just—“
“I know,” Steve interrupts. “It’s fine, it was… It’s fine.”
“What happened?” Robin asks, taking a bite. She’s looking at him intently, like she already knows.
“He, uhm…” Steve pauses, his fingers tangling on his lap. “He was nice.”
Robin stares at him, chewing slowly, her eyes wide the way they always are when she’s listening, paying attention. After a moment she tilts her head, her eyes widening even more.
“Oh my god.” Her chin jerks forward, and Steve’s cheeks flush red. “Oh my— Hello?”
“What?” Steve asks, pretending he doesn’t know, but she reaches out and shoves him.
“Shut the fuck up,” she says loudly. “You like him.”
He looks away, shaking his head, but she says his name sharply. She can always see right through him.
“Okay, I…” he says, hesitating. “I like him.” She squeals loudly, clapping her hands and bouncing up and down. “Oh my god,” he says, watching, finally smiling. “You’re such a girl.”
“Shut up, I never got to talk about crushes and stuff when I was a kid,” she says, settling. “Tell me.”
Steve sighs, leaning against the armrest of the sofa, drawing his knees to his chest.
“He… He’s nice.”
“Steven.”
“Okay—” He lets his head fall back, looking at the ceiling. He gets a whiff of his shampoo, his clean hair, and he smiles. “I… I already thought he was hot.”
“Uh-huh.” He can bear Robin’s smile in her voice.
“And he was… I mean, he was nice.”
“Nice how?”
“He… He doesn’t treat me like an idiot,” Steve says, shrugging. “Even though I’m the dumbest one out of everyone—” Robin tsks, interrupting.
“You’re not dumb, Steve.”
“You know what I mean,” he dismisses. “He just— He just tells me stuff. Without being, like, condescending, or mean about it. And when he came over, he…”
Robin rests her head on the sofa, smiling at him. Steve hesitates for a moment again, sighing.
“I was drunk,” he says. “When he came over. And he… God, he’s so sweet, Robin.” He closes his eyes, hitting his head on the back of the sofa, and Robin giggles.
“Tell me,” she prompts again.
“He, uhm. Called me… things. He was patient with me, and he…” Steve pauses, staring at the sofa, his mouth twisting as he thinks. “He suggested I take a bath, and I— I kinda freaked out, but he didn’t… He didn’t even question it,” he says softly. “He just said it was okay, and that I— I didn’t have to. That it was fine.”
“What did he call you?” Robin asks after a moment, shifting so she can set her chin on her knees.
“…Honey,” Steve says shyly, his cheeks flushing as Robin grins broadly. “And… sweetheart. And stuff.”
“Oh my god.”
Steve looks down, smiling, blushing. Thinking. Remembering Eddie’s fingers pressing against his skin, smoothing over his cheeks and neck, pushing his wet hair back so he can kiss his forehead. The way his voice echoed around the bathroom when he whispered to him.
“You’re not telling me something,” Robin says, stretching a leg out to nudge him. “What else?”
Steve licks his lips, shifting on the sofa.
“I told him,” he says. “Everything. I— I told him everything.”
“Okay,” Robin says softly, listening intently.
“And he… He was so nice.” He sighs, wrapping his arms around his legs, looking up at Robin. “He, uhm. He helped me shower.”
Robin blinks hard, staring for a moment before she waves a hand around like she’s clearing the air.
“Wait, wait, wait, that was so much information.”
Steve giggles, ducking his head.
“You showered?” Robin asks, her eyes bright and wide, raising her eyebrows. “In the shower?”
“Yeah.”
“Holy shit, Steve,” she says loudly, reaching out to smack his shoulder. He laughs, swatting her hand away. “And he— He went with you?”
Steve nods.
“How was that?” Robin asks, wide-eyed.
Steve shrugs weakly.
“Was nice.”
“Steve,” she says firmly, gesturing with her fingers pinched together. “I need details. I’m begging.”
He laughs, shifting to sit in the corner of the sofa, curling into a ball.
“We, uhm. We listened to the water first for a while, like we do at the sink.”
“Uh-huh.” She nods, biting her pizza.
“And then we, uhm…” He pauses, swallowing. “Undressed.”
“Uh-huh…”
“He went into the water first,” he continues, cheeks warm. “Like— To show me it was fine. And then he held my hand when I went in. And it was all so… so slow. He was so… gentle.” He pauses, biting his lip. “I started freaking out when I got under the water,” he starts, hesitating. He can feel Robin looking at him, listening. “But he just…”
He sighs heavily, closing his eyes and pressing his face into the sofa. She nudges him again.
“I asked him to keep touching me,” Steve says. “You know how I, like, hold your leg when you do my hair?” She nods. “I think that helps, feeling you there.”
“Okay,” she says.
“So he… touched me. My… arms and back and sides. My face.”
She’s quiet for a moment before,
“Steve.”
“Yes.”
“Did he bathe you?”
Steve just looks at her, suppressing a smile. She screams, looking at the ceiling and throwing her arms out. He laughs, watching her.
“Okay, I’m calm,” she says after the scream, taking a breath. “And afterwards?” she asks, raising her eyebrows suggestively.
“Afterwards I was exhausted,” Steve says dryly. “And I crashed immediately so I took a nap.”
“With… Eddie…”
“Yes.”
“But you didn’t kiss him.”
“No,” Steve says, his cheeks hot. “We didn’t… We didn’t talk about that.”
She leans forward, looking into his eyes, eyebrows raised, chewing slowly.
“He kissed my forehead,” he cedes, to her joy. “And cheeks. And hands.”
“Jesus, just fuck each other already.”
Steve rolls his eyes, smiling.
“So the shower was okay?” Robin asks after a moment as he’s taking a bite of the pizza. He nods.
“It was hard,” he says. “But… he helped.”
“What helped?”
“Uhm. Touching helped. And like… He talked me through it. And he was really patient, I didn’t feel, like, rushed or anything.”
“What did he say?”
“Just…” Steve sighs again. “That I was okay. That I was safe.” He hesitates, looking at the slice in his hand like it’s going to start talking to him. “That I was brave. And he was proud of me.”
“Huh.” She tilts her head. “Who woulda thought Eddie Munson is a sweetheart?”
“Such a sweetheart,” Steve groans. She laughs.
Robin tells him about the others while they eat. That Lucas got Max to play in a D&D game, that she had more fun than she wants to admit. That Erica gave Eleven a manicure, and they have matching pink nails now. That Nancy invited Robin over for a girls’ night next week. (Her cheeks flush pink when she tells him this, and Steve leans over to look into her eyes. He insists that she tells him everything afterwards.)
They fall asleep on the sofa, wrapped around each other, Robin’s face against Steve’s chest.
She isn’t there when he wakes up, but there’s a quiet clammer in the kitchen, and Steve blinks up at the ceiling. He hears the soft rumble of Eddie’s voice, and Steve sits up slowly. His head hurts.
He pauses in the doorway of the kitchen, watching Eddie cross the room, coffee pot in hand, with Robin clinging to his back like a koala. Steve tilts his head, squinting. The sun is bright in the kitchen, reflecting off the sink and the white tile.
“Oh, hey,” Robin says when she sees Steve, and Eddie turns to look at him, already smiling.
“Good morning?” Steve says. “What’s going on?”
“I came over to check on you but Robin answered the door,” Eddie says lightly, pouring a cup of coffee. Robin’s arms are wrapped around his neck, her legs around his waist. Steve’s chest feels warm, watching them. “Thought I’d make some breakfast.”
Steve finds the plates of pancakes and eggs on the table, and he smiles.
“How long has Robin been attached to you?” he asks, moving to sit on the table, taking a pancake.
“I dunno,” Eddie says lightly. “A while.”
“Strong man,” Robin comments, patting the top of Eddie’s head before she slides down to the ground, holding Eddie for balance before she takes the coffee from Eddie, who watches her blankly, lifting a hand. She just gives him a look.
She goes to the fridge to find the creamer, comfortably at home, and Eddie goes over to Steve.
“Hi,” Steve says, mouth full, and Eddie smiles fondly, pushing his hair back gently.
“Hey, sweetheart,” Eddie says softly. “You doin’ okay?”
“Mhmm,” Steve hums, nodding. Eddie plays with his hair, brushing his fingers through it until it’s smooth, and when Steve finishes the pancake he tugs at Eddie’s t-shirt, pulling him into a hug.
“Alright?” Eddie murmurs, his hands running down Steve’s back gently.
“Mhmm.”
He tucks his face into Eddie’s neck, hugging him tighter, his legs around his hips.
“Was thinking,” Eddie says softly when they pull apart, tucking Steve’s hair back and holding his cheek. “We could invite Nancy and Jonathan and Argyle over. They miss you,” he adds gently, brushing his thumb over his cheek.
Steve nods, kicking his feet.
“Yeah?”
Steve nods again, holding Eddie’s hips, looking at his shirt. It’s a faded Judas Priest shirt, and Steve kind of wants to wear it even though he doesn’t know a single Judas Priest song.
“I wanna…” He hesitates. “Wanna take a shower before they come over.”
Eddie gives him that grin that he loves so much, sharp and almost menacing.
“Want me to come?” he asks quietly. Steve nods.
“Yes, please.”
Eddie leans forward and presses a chaste kiss to his forehead.
“Eat some breakfast first.”
“Okay.”
When Eddie steps away Steve feels like he deflates, watching him cross the room to the coffee pot, and he reaches for another pancake. Robin steps past Eddie and looks at Steve with wide eyes, tilting her head, taking a sip of her coffee, and Steve realises she’s just been stalling, giving them privacy.
He grins, kicking his feet again.
They sit around the table together, and Steve watches while Eddie and Robin bicker and tease each other. (“You’re a fucking menace to society.” “I’m the menace to society? Have you seen yourself?”)
Robin says that she’ll call Nancy and the others. Eddie collects the dishes and Steve washes them in the sink, smiling when Eddie presses a kiss to his shoulder. He has to tell Robin where they all go.
Eddie takes his hand when they start heading out of the kitchen.
“We’re gonna take a shower,” he says, turning to Robin. She gives Steve a look, and his cheeks flush as he clutches at Eddie’s hand. “Don’t wait up.”
“Have fun!” she calls after them as they head up the stairs.
“Yeah, ‘s gonna be a blast,” Steve mutters.
When they get to the bathroom, Steve pulls him close, tugging at his hands. Eddie stumbles closer to him, and Steve takes a deep breath, slowly, tenderly removing Eddie’s rings. Eddie watches silently. When they’re all off, Steve places them in Eddie’s palm, and Eddie places them on the counter.
Steve waits against the wall again while Eddie goes to turn on the water, his stomach twisting, chest tightening, and he takes a sharp breath when the sound of the spray fills the room.
Eddie steps in front of him, touching his face and pressing him against the wall gently.
“Deep breath,” he says softly, lifting Steve’s hand and holding it to his own chest, their fingers entwining. Steve blinks hard, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment, and he inhales deeply, holding it for a moment before he exhales. “Good boy.”
Steve keeps breathing slowly, every breath deep and intentional, and after a few breaths he reaches to the hem of Eddie’s shirt. Eddie steps back to pull it off, and Steve exhales, running his hand over the tattoo on his chest. Eddie waits while Steve traces it, his hands resting on Steve’s waist.
Steve closes his eyes, pressing his hand to Eddie’s chest, feeling the warmth of his skin, the soft beating of his heart, and he takes a slow, steady breath.
“Off?” Eddie asks quietly, pulling gently at the hem of Steve’s shirt. Steve nods, letting him pull the shirt up over his head.
Steve pulls Eddie closer when they’re undressed, closing his eyes as his chest tightens again, a jolt of fear bursting through him like electricity.
“Sweetheart,” Eddie murmurs gently, touching Steve’s face, holding his face. Steve opens his eyes, his eyebrows furrowed, his expression tight with anxiety. “Repeat after me,” he says softly, raising his eyebrows. Steve nods, his hands tightening on Eddie’s forearms. “I’m okay.”
“I’m okay,” Steve breathes, his eyes flicking across Eddie’s face.
“I’m safe.”
“I’m safe,” Steve repeats under his breath.
Eddie reaches up, brushing his thumbs over Steve’s cheeks again, and Steve keeps holding his forearms.
“We’re at home, and Robin is downstairs,” Eddie murmurs, and the fear in Steve’s chest is momentarily replaced with warmth.
“We’re at home,” he repeats, looking into Eddie’s eyes. “And Robin is downstairs.”
“Eddie’s not gonna let anything happen to me.”
Steve exhales.
“Eddie’s not gonna let anything happen to me.”
Eddie nods, brushing his hair back and kissing his forehead again. Steve’s eyes flutter shut as he listens to the water and feels the way Eddie’s muscles shift under his skin.
“I’m proud of you,” Eddie murmurs softly.
“I’m prou—” Steve blinks. “Oh, I don’t need to say that.”
Eddie laughs quietly. He has a beautiful laugh.
“You could,” he says quietly. “You should be proud of yourself, being so brave.”
Steve stares at him. His head feels fuzzy, almost lightheaded, but not the way it feels when he’s breathing too fast. This is nicer.
“‘M proud of myself.”
Eddie beams at him. It’s like he’s glowing.
“Ready?”
Steve nods weakly, and Eddie lets go of his face, sliding his hands to meet Steve’s, and he pulls him toward the shower, slowly, gently, patiently. Steve pauses before he can step into the water, taking a breath.
When the water hits him, he jumps, and the anxiety hits him like a brick wall. He gasps and recoils, but Eddie’s hand tightens on his.
“Doing so well, Stevie,” he says softly. “You got it.”
“I’m okay,” Steve says as strongly as he can, but his voice comes out thin, strained. Eddie nods, smiling.
“Yeah, you are.”
Steve takes a moment, then nods, and he steps into the water, his hands tightening on Eddie, who’s still smiling at him.
The water hits his head, and he whimpers, tugging at Eddie.
“Fuck— Hold me,” he says desperately, and Eddie is immediately wrapping his arms around him, his fingers pushing into Steve’s hair. Steve’s arms are pressed between their chests, and he squeezes his eyes shut, pressing his face into Eddie’s neck.
“I got you, baby, it’s okay,” Eddie murmurs, holding him tightly. “I’m right here.”
“Eddie,” Steve chokes.
“Right here, honey.”
Eddie, Eddie, Eddie, Eddie, Eddie
“Slow,” Eddie says gently, combing through Steve’s hair. His fingers pull on it a little bit, and Steve lets it pull his head back, focussing on the feeling of it. “Breathe in, all the way.”
Steve keeps his face in his neck until his breaths are steady, and he wants to fall asleep here, in Eddie’s arms, with Eddie’s hands running through his hair and down his spine to the small of his back, slow and soothing and kind.
“My heart is beating so fast,” Steve says after a moment.
“‘S okay.”
“Can I wash your hair?” Steve asks quietly.
“If you want.”
Steve’s hands are shaking when he does, but Eddie doesn’t say anything, looking (gazing) at him as he washes his hair.
Eddie does his hair next. Then he washes his body, gently and kindly, kneeling on the tile, whispering to him to breathe, and tears are stinging Steve’s eyes.
“Gonna rinse you off,” Eddie says, reaching for the shower head, and Steve nods. A tear falls from his eye. “You okay?”
“I’m okay,” Steve says weakly, nodding, trying to smile, unsure of how to explain the overwhelming warmth in his chest, the clouds in his head.
“You’re crying, baby,” Eddie says softly, wiping the tear.
“I’m okay, I promise.”
Eddie looks at him for a moment longer before he leans in and kisses his cheek gently.
“Okay.”
He pulls the shower head and carefully rinses the soap off Steve’s body, murmuring when Steve’s hands grip his shoulders tightly.
He reaches past him to put it back when he finishes, smiling at Steve, running his hands over his waist.
“All done,” Eddie says lightly. Steve gazes at his face, watching water drop down it, watching his lips shine. “You did a good job, sweetheart.”
Steve takes a shuddering breath, his fingers tracing over Eddie’s tattoos again.
“Alright?” Eddie asks softly, his hands on Steve’s waist, holding him patiently. Steve just looks into his eyes, and then a moment later, his finger is under Eddie’s chin, and he’s kissing him.
Their lips slide across each other, and Eddie’s hand lifts to hold Steve’s cheek, and the sound of the water fades away, and Steve’s arms wrap around Eddie’s neck. Steve tilts his head. Eddie’s teeth catch on his lip. Steve’s fingers tangle in his curls.
They part with a slick sound after a few moments, and Steve is breathing hard, blinking his eyes open to look at Eddie.
“Oh,” Eddie breathes. “Shit.”
“Yeah,” Steve agrees softly.
Eddie kisses him again, holding his jaw between his hands, and their faces smush together so hard it almost hurts, but Steve doesn’t care. He pushes a hand into Eddie’s hair, cradling the back of his head, and he whines when Eddie sucks on his lower lip. He wants to push Eddie against the tile wall, to kiss all of his tattoos and stretch marks and scars and bruises. He wants Eddie to pick him up again, wants to feel his hands on his bare thighs. He wants to leave bruises on his neck, and kiss him until the water runs cold, but—
“Robin is, uhm—“ Steve says, panting when they part. “Robin is waiting for us.” Eddie kisses his forehead.
“Yeah,” he says, also breathless. “We will… continue this later.”
“Okay,” Steve says, his voice small, smiling. Eddie kisses him one last time before he shuts the water off.
“Eddie?” he asks softly as they’re drying themselves. Eddie looks over at him. His hair is still wet but frizzy from the rough scrubbing of the towel that Eddie did when he left the shower.
“Yeah?”
Steve hesitates, fidgeting with his towel.
“Are we… Are we, like… boyfriends?”
Eddie gazes at him before he reaches out, pressing a hand against the small of Steve’s back and pulling him close until their bodies press.
“Do you wanna be?”
Steve nods.
“Yes,” he says softly.
Eddie smiles like he’s trying not to smile, but his eyes are sparkling, and his hand presses harder as he leans in, kissing him tenderly.
“‘M so fucking lucky,” Eddie murmurs. “My boyfriend, Steve Harrington.”
“I’m lucky,” Steve says, his eyes suddenly burning.
“Baby…” Eddie drops his towel, holding Steve’s face. “I got you.”
“That’s why,” Steve says, his hands on Eddie’s chest. “‘Cause you got me.” His lip is trembling, and a tear escapes. “And I— I believe you. I trust you.”
Eddie’s lips purse, and he pulls Steve into a hug.
—————————
Steve puts Eddie’s rings back on after they finish drying. Eddie wants to cry when he realises Steve already knows what order they go in.
Steve pulls Eddie’s t-shirt on silently, smiling to himself, and Eddie grabs a hoodie from Steve’s desk chair in his room. The front of it reads HAWKINS SWIM TEAM. The back reads HARRINGTON.
Steve greets the others with smiles, hugs Nancy and Jonathan and even Argyle. Tells them that he’s doing okay.
They all seem to just know that something is wrong. Steve doesn’t tell them anything, but Eddie can see the relief in their eyes when Steve laughs at something Argyle says.
Robin pulls Steve into the kitchen under the guise of getting chips for everyone, but Eddie knows it’s to interrogate him. Because it’s obvious. He knows it is. His and Steve’s wet hair, their swapped clothes, and Eddie knows he can’t hide the way he gazes at him.
So he chats with the others, pretends Nancy isn’t staring at him like she’s trying to read his mind, and when Steve and Robin come back, carrying chips and beer and soda, Robin is beaming broadly, and Steve’s cheeks are pink.
Steve gets a beer and stares at it in his hand for a moment while the others talk before he puts it back down and gets a Coke instead. Eddie smiles.
Steve finishes the Coke and some chips, and he talks with Argyle for a little bit before he falls quiet, yawning and leaning against Eddie.
Robin puts a movie on.
When the others look at the television screen, Steve shifts, moving so he’s laying between Eddie’s legs against his chest.
“Alright?” Eddie asks softly, lifting his arms for Steve to settle before he sets them over him.
“‘M crashing.”
“I got you,” Eddie says, smiling, tilting his head to kiss Steves temple, and Steve smiles back before he buries his face in Eddie’s neck.
“I know.”
Steve is asleep when the others leave, and Eddie doesn’t move except to tilt his head for Robin and Nancy to kiss his cheek. Argyle kisses his cheek too.
Eddie runs his hands up and down over Steve’s spine when they’re gone, sighing when Steve nuzzles into his neck. Sweet boy.
———
Eddie spends more time at Steve’s than Wayne’s. Wayne doesn’t mind. He likes Steve. (They meet after a few weeks, for dinner at Wayne’s. Steve is nervous. Eddie holds his hand under the table.)
Eddie can see it all get easier for Steve as time passes. He smiles more when they shower, every time Eddie presses soft kisses to his lips, when Eddie wipes soap away from his face so it doesn’t get in his eyes. The showers get faster, except the stretches of time that they spend pressed together, kissing slowly and leisurely like they have all the time in the world.
Steve likes to kiss Eddie’s tattoos.
One day Eddie comes over to find Steve in the kitchen, mixing a bowl of some kind of batter, his hair wet. Steve looks up at him and sets the bowl down, grinning. Eddie stops in the doorway, gazing at him for a few moments before it clicks, and then he’s bounding across the kitchen, hugging Steve tightly and spinning him in a circle. Steve is laughing, giggling brightly, holding Eddie’s neck.
Eddie kisses him when he sets him back down, so hard Steve leans back, pushing his fingers into Eddie’s curls. He’s still laughing.
“How was it?” Eddie asks, holding Steve tightly, a hand against the small of his back. He kind of wants to cry.
“Was hard,” Steve says softly. He leans so their noses brush. “But I did it.”
“You did it,” Eddie says, beaming.
Steve kisses him, holding his face as his tongue swipes over his lip carefully, and Eddie’s chest tightens.
“Missed you a little,” Steve murmurs when they part, his arms around Eddie’s neck.
“A little?” Eddie questions, tilting his head, and Steve’s eyes sparkle at him. Eddie falls in love again.
“Missed you a lot,” Steve corrects himself, smiling.
Eddie noses down his neck, pressing soft kisses over his skin, and Steve tilts his head back, sighing.
“I’m so proud of you, sweetheart,” Eddie murmurs, sucking a kiss under Steve’s jaw. Steve just hums quietly, tugging Eddie’s hair gently.
Eddie can feel Steve’s pulse against his lips, and he carefully drags his teeth over his skin, grinning when Steve whines. Eddie picks him up and puts him on the counter, pushing aside the bowl.
“What are you making?” he asks, sliding a hand under Steve’s shirt to press to his waist as he kisses his neck again. Steve’s legs tighten around Eddie’s waist.
“Uhm.” Steve’s hands run over the back of Eddie’s neck under his hair. “Cookies. The kids are coming over tomorrow.”
“Perfect little housewife, aren’t you,” Eddie murmurs, and Steve giggles.
“You wanna help?”
“Mhmm,” Eddie hums, leaving another lingering kiss over Steve’s pulse.
It takes them a while to actually get started with the cookies, stuck at the counter with their arms around each other, but when they finally move, Eddie has to hold back the words on his tongue.
He kisses Steve’s cheek instead of saying it, and Steve blushes like he knows.
The kids seem to notice something is different too. Eddie is still over even though Steve didn’t tell them he’d be there, and he spends most of the time bickering with Dustin and Max. When the sun goes down and they all pile into the living room for a movie, Eddie drops blankets on top of everybody, over their faces just to be annoying. (He only gives one to Mike, who’s sitting next to Will, forcing them to share it. They don’t seem to mind.)
Lucas, Max, and Eleven share the biggest blanket, sitting on the floor with their legs all tangled. Lucas’s arm is over Max’s shoulders, his fingers in El’s hair. Dustin and Erica are on the sofa, each with their own blankets but leaning against each other, Erica holding Dustin’s arm.
Eddie sits next to Steve, draping a blanket over both of them, and Steve’s hand finds his under it. Eddie squeezes, glancing around the room to make sure no one’s looking before he leans over to press a kiss to his cheek.
Dustin and Erica are both asleep by the end of the movie, Dustin’s head resting on Erica’s. Lucas and El are both sleeping, their heads on Max’s shoulders as she smiles contentedly up at Eddie. Will and Mike are both awake, but neither of them move from where they’re leaning against each other, and Mike looks like he’s ready to doze off, glaring at Eddie when he asks if they need anything.
“We’re okay,” Will says softly, smiling. “Thanks, Eddie.”
Steve curls up on the sofa when Eddie goes back to him, holding an arm out for Eddie lay against his chest.
“I’m really happy,” Steve murmurs after Eddie settles, and Eddie smiles, his cheek squishing against him.
In the morning they make breakfast before the kids wake up, and Eddie sees Steve fondly gazing at all of them around the living room. Later, Eddie can see the way Will’s eyes linger on Eddie’s hand that rests on Steve’s hip as he passes. Will just looks away sharply when he catches Eddie looking. He glances at Mike, who doesn’t seem to notice anything.
———
The sun is setting when Eddie gets to Steve’s, and he enters the house on his own. He does that now. Doesn’t knock, doesn’t wait. Kicks his shoes off by the front door and doesn’t bother checking where they land.
He sets the plastic bag on the counter in the kitchen, puts away the few groceries he picked up on his way over, some fruit and Steve’s favourite cereal. The back door is open, the warm late-summer air coming through in a breeze, and through it Eddie can see Steve sitting by the pool. Pride tangles in his chest, and he pauses just to gaze at him for a moment, the way his overgrown hair blows in the soft wind. Even from the back, Eddie can tell he’s wearing one of Eddie’s t-shirts.
“Hey, honey,” Eddie greets softly when he joins him, crouching behind him and holding his shoulders. Steve looking up at him, tilting his head back.
“Hi, Eddie.”
“Whatcha doin’?”
Steve reaches up, wacking Eddie in the face as he tries to hold his cheek, giggling when Eddie doesn’t even flinch away.
“Being brave.”
“Yeah?”
“Mhmm.”
“Mind if I join you?”
Steve hums thoughtfully, finally pressing his palm to Eddie’s cheek.
“Only requirement is a kiss.”
“Ah, I can manage that.”
He moves to sit beside him, an arm around Steve’s shoulders, and Steve is ready leaning in, eyes closed. Eddie smiles, pushing his fingers into Steve’s hair and kissing him softly, carefully. Steve tilts his head, his lips parting under Eddie’s, a hand finding Eddie’s thigh and squeezing.
“You okay?” Eddie asks softly when they part, but Steve squeezes again.
“One more,” he murmurs.
Eddie kisses him again, more intently, biting and tugging on Steve’s bottom lip the way he knows he likes, his hand tightening in his hair.
Steve exhales when they part again, his lips shining with Eddie’s spit, eyes still closed.
“‘M having a hard day,” he says quietly.
“Hard how?” Eddie asks, tucking Steve’s hair behind his ear. Steve shrugs.
“Just… Emotionally. I guess.”
“Wanna talk about it?” Eddie asks after kissing his cheek gently, and Steve sighs, looking back at the water, taking Eddie’s hand and holding it as he puts his hands back between his crossed legs.
He stares at the water for a while. Eddie waits.
“When I was… When I was a kid,” Steve says, his voice gentle. “I was… scared of my dad.”
Eddie turns to face him, crossing his legs, holding his hand.
“Like— Like I was scared of him,” Steve continues. “He was this… big, strong man that could move walls and shatter glass and… And I was supposed of be like him, and I didn’t want to.” Steve’s eyes are glassy, but he isn’t crying, his voice steady. “I’d run upstairs when I heard his car pull into the driveway so I didn’t have to see him. I memorised every single floorboard in the house that creaked so I didn’t annoy him if I had to use the bathroom. When he was drunk, I’d… hide in the very back of my closet, behind all my coats, with a flashlight and a comic book. When he was gone on trips, I’d wish his flights would get cancelled on his way back.”
Eddie listens intently, gazing at Steve’s side profile, watching his lips move and lashes flutter as he speaks.
“And now he’s gone,” Steve says softly. “And I don’t have to worry about him anymore. I don’t have to be scared of a car in the driveway, and I don’t have to be careful of where I step in the hallway, and I don’t have to hide in the back of my closet when I hear his door slam.” He pauses, blinking, his gaze shifting across the shining water. “He’s gone.”
Eddie squeezes his hand, his chest aching. Imagining tiny Steve tiptoeing down the hall to the bathroom, crawling into his closet in the dark. He wants to cry.
“And now I have this,” Steve says quietly, his eyes trained on the glistening pool water.
Eddie falls forward, pressing his forehead to Steve’s shoulder.
“‘S not fair,” Steve says weakly, and now his voice is shaking, and Eddie wants to cry, but he also wants to scream, and break every window in this god-forsaken house, and he wants to hunt down Howard Harrington and kill him for ever making a little boy feel unsafe in his own home. For ever making Steve Harrington feel like he’s anything less than the whole fucking world, anything less than everything.
“It’s not,” Eddie agrees, pulling Steve’s hand to his lips and kissing over his knuckles. “It’s not fair at all.”
“And I— I am getting better,” Steve says, his voice high and thin as he tries not to cry. Eddie runs his other hand over his back gently. “But sometimes it just… sometimes it feels like it’s never gonna go away.”
Eddie pulls him against himself, hugging him gently as he cries, feeling Steve’s hands clutch at his forearms.
“‘S your fucking house, Stevie,” Eddie says softly. “You can step on all the creaky floorboards you want.”
Steve laughs wetly, wiping his face.
“Hey.” Eddie carefully pushes Steve so he looks at him, brushing his fingers over his skin lightly. “You’ve already made… so much progress,” he says, trying not to let his voice break. His eyes sting. “And you have all the time in the world to get even better, and you’re not doing anything alone, right?” He waits until Steve gives him a tiny nod.
“We got the rest of our lives, baby,” Eddie says softly. He brushes his thumb over Steve’s cheek, wiping a tear. “Gonna stick around as long as you let me.”
Steve’s lip quivers, and he stares at Eddie.
His eyes skim down over his face, and then he’s reaching up to play with the guitar pick hanging from Eddie’s neck, and Eddie gazes back at him. The sun is setting, casting golden orange light across everything it can see, and Steve’s hair looks like gold thread again, and his eyes are almost glowing, still shining with unshed tears. The tears on his cheeks left tracks on his skin, sparkling in the sunlight. He looks ethereal. Holy. Fucking divine.
Steve is still looking at the guitar pick, his lips twisted like he’s thinking. So Eddie waits. Pushes his hair back. Caresses his cheek and jaw and chin.
And then Steve is biting his lip, his brows furrowing like he’s holding tears back again, and Eddie nudges his chin.
“What’s wrong?”
Steve hesitates, stammers, his lip quivering.
“I am the dumbest fucker alive.”
“Steve,” Eddie scolds, furrowing his brows as his hand tightens on Steve’s chin.
“We went to school together,” Steve says, his voice heavy, ignoring Eddie. “For four fucking years. And I didn’t even know you.” His eyes are swimming with tears. “Because I was too busy being an— an asshole.” He’s looking at Eddie desperately, angrily, and Eddie just holds his face, frowning. “I was pretending to be someone I never wanted to be, someone— someone I hated, when I should have been with you, and I missed out on four fucking years of loving you, and I—”
He cuts off with a small gasp, and his eyes widen, and the ground falls out from under Eddie.
“You love me?” Eddie asks weakly, still holding his face. Steve just stares at him, eyes brimming with tears, until he nods.
Eddie exhales.
“It’s…” Steve shakes his head, his eyebrows furrowing as if in anguish, as he’s clutching at the front of Eddie’s shirt. “I know it’s only been a few months. But you…” He swallows, his lips trembling. Eddie might be dying. “You make me feel so safe. And— and beautiful, and I’ve never beautiful before, and when I kissed you the first time, and you kissed back, it was like I… Like I’d been looking for you, like every person I’ve ever kissed should have been you.”
“Holy shit,” Eddie breathes.
“I’m talking so much, I’m sorry,” Steve says, laughing weakly, but a tear escapes, and Eddie wipes it away.
“I love listening to you talk, honey,” he murmurs. Steve exhales, closing his eyes briefly before he looks at him again with his glowing eyes.
“You don’t—“
“I love you too,” Eddie interrupts. He holds Steve’s face in his hands, feeling the softness of his cheeks against his palms. “You’re fucking everything to me, Stevie.”
Steve exhales, blinking tears out of his eyes, and a small sob escapes him, and Eddie pulls him in, kissing his forehead.
And the Steve is laughing, giggling as tears slide down his face, and Eddie pulls back to look at him curiously.
“You love me too,” Steve says, still laughing, like that explains it. “Fuck.”
“Yeah,” Eddie says, and now he’s giggling too because, “Who woulda thought?”
He brushes his fingertips over Steve’s cheek, wiping a tear away as he gazes at him and pushes his hair back. It’s so much longer than it was when he was in school.
“King Steve and the freak,” Eddie murmurs. He kind of wishes he could take a picture of this moment, him wiping Steve’s tears and touching his overgrown, unkept hair, and show it to himself two years ago. Look at what you get. Look at what your life becomes. It makes him think of the questions his teachers would ask at the beginning of the school year. Where do you see yourself if in five years? He never would have guessed deeply in love with Steve Harrington.
Steve leans in and kisses him, cupping his cheek and gripping the front of his shirt. Eddie squeezes his eyes shut, pushing his fingers into Steve’s hair and tugging gently, grinning against his mouth when Steve hums softly.
Steve’s eyes are still closed when they part, his breath soft on Eddie’s face, and Eddie tugs again just because Steve likes it. When he opens his eyes he looks at Eddie’s guitar pick around his neck, taking it between his fingers and rubbing it, smiling softly. Contently. Eddie combs through his hair, waiting.
“Will you move in with me?” Steve asks finally.
Eddie blinks. His eyes widen.
“I just—“ Steve looks into his eyes. “I love you. So much. And I— I love going to sleep with you, in— in your arms, and I love waking up to you in my bed, and you could have D&D in the dining room and we could have movie nights with the others, and it’s fucking insane that we’re even alive, and I wanna spend the rest of my life with you, I mean—“ He pauses, scoffing. “I’d fucking marry you if I could, Eddie.”
“Jesus Christ.” Eddie is laughing almost deliriously, and he covers his face, squeezing his eyes shut, but Steve reaches over and pulls his hand down gently, tenderly.
“Do you wanna move in with me?” he asks quietly.
“God, I would fucking love to, Stevie.”
Steve beams, leaning in and pressing his forehead to the side of Eddie’s neck. Eddie’s face flushes with heat, and he tilts his head to kiss Steve’s hair as Steve giggles.
“And fuck the laws and shit,” Eddie adds when Steve lifts his head. “I wanna marry you too. We’re married.”
Steve blinks at him, still smiling absently.
“Yeah? Does that count?”
“Steve, I hate the government.”
“I know, baby.”
“And they don’t get a say in what we have,” Eddie says, softer, touching Steve’s cheek. “So fuck it. We’re married. We’re married where it counts.”
Steve giggles again.
“Okay.”
He pulls him in by the guitar pick and kisses him.
They sit there for a while, Steve’s head on Eddie’s shoulder, Eddie’s fingers in his hair, so in love Eddie feels a little sore.
He never knew what it was like to fall in love. Not until Steve.
He used to see love in movies, hear it in songs, read it in books. And he’d wonder. What it felt like to find solace in another person, what it felt like to be so comfortable and safe with someone that he would let them see him bare. (And with Steve, God, is it easy. Even the first time they showered together, the first time they ever spent time together, just the two of them.) What it would be like to place his heart in someone’s palm, and to trust them not to crush it.
And then Steve happened.
Steve, who was such a douchebag in high school that it seemed almost fake. (And Eddie was relieved to find out it was.) Who is best friends with a bunch of freshmen, and has a dorky, stupid secret handshake with one of them. Who is selfless and careful and so achingly brave that it scared Eddie. Who melted the first time Eddie called him a sweet pet name, and who lives in a house that tortured him but turned the house into a safe haven for the people he loves.
Eddie squeezes his eyes shut for a moment, turning his head to kiss Steve’s head before he opens his eyes and looks at the orange sky.
“I think I wanna get in,” Steve says after a while, looking at the pool.
“Yeah?”
“‘M scared.”
Eddie tugs at his hair so he lifts his head, and he leans down to kiss him tenderly, sucking on his lip carefully before he pulls away just far enough that their lips brush when he speaks.
“You want me to go in first?”
Steve looks into his eyes.
“Yeah,” he says softly. “Thank you.”
“Okay.”
He pecks him quickly before he pulls his arm away and slides into the pool. They’re at the shallow end, so it only comes up to his waist, soaking his socks and jeans and the end of his shirt, and he grins when Steve says his name loudly, clapping a hand over his mouth.
“What?” Eddie asks innocently, his heart swelling when Steve drops his hand and reveals his beautiful, beaming grin.
“What are you doing?”
“Getting in the water,” Eddie says lightly. Steve is laughing, his eyes squinting, and his cheeks are pink, and he might be glowing. He might be the sun.
“You’re not gonna take your shirt off first?” Steve asks like it’s obvious.
“What, you tryna sneak a peek, Harrington?”
“Always,” Steve says, flirting, and Eddie blushes.
He grins up at him with a soft ‘kay, and he reaches to tug at the collar of his shirt, pulling it over his head and tossing it aside. It lands in the water, floating away in the ripples caused by Eddie’s splash.
Steve’s eyes widen and skim over his chest, lingering at his tattoos. Eddie grins when Steve’s cheeks flush with colour.
“Shit,” Steve says succinctly.
“Gotta get in to touch me,” Eddie says, tilting his head at him, moving his hands over the surface of the water. Steve inhales.
“Very good incentive.”
“Mhmm.”
Steve takes a deep breath, eyeing Eddie’s chest for a moment he looks at the water, his fingers tapping his leg anxiously.
“Okay,” he says finally.
“Okay?”
“Okay.” He huffs. “I’m gonna do it.”
Eddie moves closer to him, his hands wading the water, and Steve watches him, his eyes shining with fear.
“Deep breath,” Eddie instructs gently, lifting his hands and carefully setting them on Steve’s crossed legs. “Feet first?”
Steve nods, uncrossing his legs and sliding his feet into the water. He’s wearing mismatched socks, one striped and the other blue. Eddie grins at him.
“Alright?”
“Mhmm.”
Slowly, Steve works his way down, gripping the edge of the pool, staring at Eddie, wide-eyed, and Eddie keeps murmuring to him. It’s only gonna go up to your waist, okay? You got it, I’m right here. Deep breath, sweetheart, ‘s alright.
Steve lets out a groan when he lowers all the way into the water, eyes locked with Eddie’s, who beams and squeezes his hands.
“You’re doing it,” he says gently, and a laugh bursts out of Steve.
“Oh, fuck,” he says breathlessly. “I’m— I’m doing it.”
“Yeah,” Eddie says, his eyes stinging.
Steve looks away, down at the water between them, watching the ripples distort their legs, flashes of water black and grey, still shimmering in the setting sun.
“Can I touch you now?” he asks after taking a deep breath, and Eddie giggles, nodding and leading Steve’s hands to his chest. Steve steps closer, biting his lip and closing his eyes as he takes another breath, running his hands over Eddie’s chest smoothly while Eddie moves to touch his face.
“Love you so much,” Steve breathes, his fingers pressing into Eddie’s flesh, squeezing at him like it’s keeping him steady.
“I love you too,” Eddie whispers, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead. A sound escapes Steve, a choked-off, high-pitched whimper, and Eddie pulls away to look at him. He looks like he’s going to cry, frowning with his eyebrows furrowed, a crease between them that’ll be there when he’s old. “You okay?”
Steve’s eyes flutter open, searching Eddie’s face, and his breathing is heavy.
“Hey,” Eddie whispers. “All the way in,” he says softly, holding Steve’s jaw in his hands and nodding when Steve inhales deeply. “Hold… And out. There you go.”
He leads him through a few more breathes before Steve squeezes at his chest and says, “Kiss,” weakly.
Eddie leans in and kisses him again carefully, and Steve whimpers again, exhaling roughly, stepping forward. Water sloshes around them, and Steve’s hands tighten.
“Are you okay?” Eddie asks, pulling away. Steve leans forward, trying to catch his lips again, but Eddie doesn’t let him, and his eyes flutter open again. “Stevie.”
“‘M not freaking out, Eddie,” Steve says quietly, his voice weak. “I promise.”
“What’s wrong?”
Steve hesitates, swallowing and glancing at Eddie’s tattoos, tracing the spider lightly.
“You’re really hot.”
Eddie blinks.
“Oh.” He laughs, holding Steve’s cheek as Steve bares his teeth is a shining, wavering smile. “Thought you were panicking, baby.”
“I’m not, I just— I need you to kiss me, Eddie, please.”
“You don’t have to say please, my love,” Eddie murmur. “Wanna give you everything you want.”
Steve exhales, closing his eyes, and Eddie kisses him.
Tenderly, lovingly holding his face in his hands, listening as Steve groans softly, feeling his cheeks flush when Steve’s fingers dance across his skin and move under the water, pressing against his stomach.
The sky darkens as they kiss, and when Eddie opens his eyes after a while, the world isn’t glowing golden anything. (Steve still is.)
“This is helping,” Steve breathes, still holding his belly gently.
“Yeah?”
They’re both breathing hard, close enough that their lips brush. Steve kisses him softly again, wetting his lips with a swipe of his tongue.
“Can we… Can we try going deeper?”
“‘Course.”
Eddie turns them and slowly starts backing toward the deeper end, nodding when Steve takes a deep breath. Steve pulls him into a kiss as he follows, sucking on his lip.
Slowly, the water creeps up their bodies. It’s cold. But Steve’s mouth is warm, and his hands are holding onto Eddie’s desperately, and it feels good.
“Okay?” Eddie gasps when the part. His lip is sore from Steve’s teeth. Steve nods.
“Kiss me, baby, please.”
“Don’t beg, sweetheart,” Eddie murmurs.
He kisses him.
Steve’s hands clutch at him under the water, squeezing and kneading and holding, and Eddie tugs at his hair again. Steve moans softly.
“Fuck,” Eddie gasps. “I’m hard.”
Steve is breathing hard, almost panting, and he lets out a soft laugh before he reaches for one of Eddie’s hands and leads it down under the water to his dick.
“Oh, fuck, you’re hard.”
Steve laughs again, reaching up to tug Eddie in by the back of his neck, kissing him deeply, sliding his tongue into his mouth.
Eddie pulls him close, sucking on his tongue, and tugs at his thighs, pulling him up easily. Steve wraps his legs around Eddie as their hips press, and he groans again.
“You’re okay with this?” Eddie asks, pulling away. “Is this okay?”
“Yes,” Steve pants, his fingers knitting in the wet ends of Eddie’s hair. “Give me some good things to associate with water, baby.”
“Fuck.”
He pulls at his legs, slides his hands over Steve’s thighs and ass, over the soaked fabric of his sweatpants. Steve tightens his legs, grinding against him, and his eyes shut as his lips part as if in awe. It’s getting darker outside, but the blue lights of the pool are on now, shining on them like spotlights.
They kiss again, messily, and Steve wraps his arms around Eddie’s neck, whimpering as they grind against each other again, as Eddie walks him back against the wall.
“Is that okay?” Eddie asks breathlessly, in case the wall is too rough, too hard, in case Steve just wants Eddie’s hands.
“Yes,” Steve gasps, fingers digging into Eddie’s hair, and Eddie suddenly gets why Steve likes that so much, his eyes flutters when Steve tugs. “Gimme more, I need— Eddie, please.” He sounds like he’s going to cry, his head falling back against the wall as his legs pull at Eddie.
“What do you want?” Eddie asks breathlessly.
“Fuck me, I need… Fuck, touch me, Eddie.”
“Do you wanna get out of the pool?” Eddie asks, but Steve is already shaking his head.
“No, I wanna stay, I don’t— I don’t know why, I want it here.”
“Okay,” Eddie breathes, kissing him and pressing a hand under Steve’s shirt, pressing their hips together so Steve arches his back and whines. “Tell me if— if you wanna stop.”
“I will, I promise.”
Eddie nods, doing it again, watching Steve’s mouth fall open, his breath cutting short in his throat before he gasps a sharp Yes.
So Eddie does it again. And again. And again.
Until Steve’s face in buried in his neck and Eddie is gripping the edge of pool, and the water is sloshing between them, splashing their faces, but Steve is too deep in pleasure to care. He’s making soft, whiny noises, and he’s talking, and Eddie closes his eyes to listen to him, talking back.
“Fuck, Eddie, you feel so good.”
“Gonna give a guy an ego, baby.”
“You already have one— Fuck— Do that again—”
“Rude.”
“Fuck, yes, yes, yesyesyesyesyes—”
“Sound so pretty, sweetheart.”
Steve is whining into his ear and trying to muffle it by biting his shoulder. It hurts. Eddie moans.
It isn’t until they both finish, when they’re holding each other tightly, breathing hard and still whimpering as they come down, that Eddie remembers they’re outside. He wonders if the stars are watching them.
He lifts his head and looks at Steve, gently taking his face in his hands and gazing at him. A moment passes before Steve opens his eyes and looks back at him, the blue light from the pool reflecting in his eyes.
“You okay?” he asks softly. Steve smiles dopily at him, tucking a curl back,
nodding.
“I feel so good.”
Eddie smiles back at him, wiping a drop of water from his cheek.
“We just had sex in a pool.”
Steve looks at him, and his eyes focus a bit, widening.
“Oh.” He blinks, looking down at the water between them. “Holy shit.”
Eddie gazes at him, stroking his cheek, watching the gears turn in Steve’s head.
“I just had sex with my husband in a pool,” Steve says finally.
Eddie kisses him so hard it hurts.
It takes a while for them to drag themselves out of the pool, and Eddie has to go back to fish his shirt out of the water, and they undress on their way up to Steve’s (their) room, shivering and giggling and leaving wet footprints in their path.
“That was fun,” Steve says, kissing Eddie intently as they crash into his room, his hands squeezing Eddie’s upper arms tightly. He likes doing that. Says he likes how strong Eddie is.
“You liked it?”
Steve hums softly, licking across Eddie’s lips and into his mouth.
“Yes.”
Eddie reaches down to Steve’s now bare legs and picks him up again, grinning when Steve groans, low in his throat.
“Should fuck you in the bath one of these days,” he mumbles against Steve’s lips, and Steve nods, fingers digging into the backs of Eddie’s arms.
“‘d like that.” He’s giggling softly, holding his mouth open for Eddie. “We’ll get water fucking everywhere.”
“That okay?” Eddie asks, tracing Steve’s lip with his tongue, and Steve’s smile grows.
“Yeah,” he breathes, squeezing his arms. “Wanna make a mess.”
“Jesus.” Eddie sucks on his lip, digging his teeth into it, and squeezes his ass as Steve’s nails bite into his breath skin. “Fuckin’ love of my life.”
He sets Steve on the bed, pushes him into the mattress, and they’re still wet from the pool, their skin drying tacky and sticking together, but neither of them care. He lets Steve take over. Lets him roll them over and straddle his hips, lets him pin his wrists above his head and leave bite marks and bruises over his neck and chest and the backs of his arms.
“You’re so soft,” Steve whispers as he sucks kisses into his chest, his tongue dragging over his nipple almost carefully, meticulously. Eddie squeezes his eyes shut, his back arching. Steve’s arm is stretched over his face to hold his wrists down, and Eddie lifts his head enough to kiss it.
Steve smiles at him.
“‘M so in love with you.”
Eddie melts. There are tears in his eyes. Steve kisses him softly, releasing his wrist and moving so he’s kneeling between. He traces Eddie’s scars for a moment, gazing at them like they’re beautiful as his fingertip runs over the thin, sensitive skin. Eddie doesn’t like looking at them much. They’re mostly pink and silvery, almost metallic, but the worst of the wounds needed stitches and healed jaggedly and dark, red and angry looking. Steve likes to kiss them.
He pulls his hand away and sends Eddie one last soft smile before he turns to the side and lifts Eddie’s ankle. He presses a kiss to the top of his foot, then the bony part of his ankle, then a line up his leg until he’s pressing his face into Eddie’s thigh. Eddie’s leg is up over his shoulder, and Steve has on arm around his thigh, holding his hip, his other hand holding Eddie’s dick loosely as he bites the pale skin of his inner thigh.
He switches sides when he’s satisfied, and Eddie already knows leaving dark bruises in his path, and he does the same to his other thigh, laving his tongue over every bite like he’s trying to sooth them. And then kisses all the way down his leg again, pausing at the tattoo above his knee to give it extra attention.
After kissing the top of his foot he lifts his head, moving forward to captures Eddie’s lips, and Eddie whines. His leg is still over Steve’s shoulder, and the stretch that comes when Steve leans down aches in the best way.
Steve reaches to take Eddie’s hands. They’re still where he put them, pressing into the mattress above his head, and Eddie’s face flushes.
Steve kisses each of his fingertips before he sucks two of his fingers into his mouth, and Eddie’s breath catches in his throat, looking up at him. His skin looks golden against Eddie’s, his lips perfectly pink and shining around his fingers. His mouth is warm and wet, and Eddie knows his skin must taste like chlorine, but Steve doesn’t seem to care, his tongue sliding between his fingers as his eyes close.
When Steve pulls away he gasps for breath before pressing kisses over Eddie’s knuckles and the back of his hand and his wrist. He drops Eddie’s other hand, but Eddie knows he’ll get back to it, so he lifts it back above his head.
Steve kisses over the puppet on his forearm and each of the bats, kisses the crease of his elbow by burying his face in it for a moment. When he gets to Eddie’s bicep, the kisses linger, get wetter and harder as his teeth graze Eddie’s skin.
He kisses over his shoulder before pushing his arm up to kiss the back of it again, biting his tricep hard enough that Eddie lets out a soft moan. Steve moves to straddling his hip again as he kisses over Eddie’s other hand, and Eddie sets his other hand behind his head so he can watch him. Steve closes his eyes, sucking Eddie’s thumb into his mouth.
After a moment, he takes it in deeper, letting his jaw drop as Eddie’s thumb slides along his tongue, and he reaches out with one hand, touching Eddie’s cheek softly. His thumb brushes over his skin softly, and he sighs, and Eddie has never felt so beautiful.
His chest feels so warm. He thinks about the things he used to wonder when he was a kid, about what it felt like to love, what it felt like to be loved.
It feels like coming home, apparently.
Steve kisses over his forearm arm and bicep, and he pushes Eddie’s arm up to bite his tricep a few times before he presses his face into Eddie’s armpit, and a laugh bursts out of Eddie.
“You’re so gross,” he says, and he can feel Steve giggling against him. Steve lifts his face and kisses his shoulder.
“You love me,” he says teasingly.
“I really do.”
Steve kisses his neck. Bites and sucks and leaves bruises on his skin. Eddie slides his hand over Steve’s back, into his hair. The ends of it are damp. He smiles at the ceiling.
Steve lifts his head after a while and smiles down at him.
“Close your eyes.”
He does.
Steve’s hands cradle his face for a moment before he feels a kiss pressed to his lips, then his chin and along his jaw, and his cheeks and up the bridge of his nose, between his eyebrows. Eddie wants to cry when Steve presses kisses to his eyelids, so soft he can barely feel them.
Steve kisses his forehead, and he pushes his bangs back to kiss his hairline before he kisses the top of his head.
“I love you,” Steve whispers, his breath on Eddie’s face. Eddie opens his eyes.
Steve’s hair is fall down around them, blocking light, Eddie reaches up to tuck it behind his ears before he pulls him into a desperate kiss.
Steve pulls back before it can get too heated, smiling almost smugly at him.
“I’m not done.”
Eddie’s head falls back against the bed.
“Fuck. Okay.”
Steve laughs softly into his neck, kissing his throat before he moves on to his collarbones, nipping at them gently, and his chest. He licks over Eddie’s tattoos, over his nipples, presses a soft, lingering kiss over his heart.
Eddie starts crying when Steve shifts down the bed, kneeling with Eddie’s legs over his own, to kiss his scars. He does it so tenderly, so carefully it’s like he’s waiting for something to happen, expecting something to come from it, like he’s making art. His tongue teases the deeper scars, the angry ones that Eddie hates, and he sighs softly against Eddie’s skin like he’s content there.
He’s gentle over the scars, so soft that over the thicker scar tissue Eddie can barely feel it, but he leaves sharp bites over Eddie’s belly. Eddie bites his lip, reaching down to bury a hand in Steve’s hair and looking down at him to watch, blinking tears out of his eyes.
Steve’s eyes are closed almost blissfully as he bites Eddie’s belly, and Eddie can already see red marks forming on his skin. He grins.
“Can I blow you?” Steve asks, lifting his head, his eyes shining.
“If I can blow you after.”
“Okay,” Steve says, his voice small and almost shy, and he’s smiling, and Eddie fucking loves him. Steve moves so Eddie’s thighs are on his shoulders, holding his hips, and he looks almost sleepy as he settles on his front, smiling absently with half-shut eyes that close completely when he takes Eddie into his mouth. He hums softly when Eddie swears under his breath, and Eddie tugs his hair, warmth growing in his stomach as Steve smiles around his dick.
“So good to me,” Eddie murmurs, watching, threading his fingers through his hair. “My sweet boy.”
Steve’s brows furrow and he takes Eddie deeper.
“Do I taste like the pool?” Eddie asks after a few moments, still watching, and Steve huffs out a laugh before lifting his head, breathing hard as he works Eddie with his hand.
“Little bit,” he says, panting. “I don’t mind. You always taste good.”
“God, you’re cute.”
“You’re cute.”
Eddie rolls his eyes. Steve grins.
“Pull my hair,” Steve demands softly before he leans back down.
“Yes, sir.”
His head falls back while Steve sucks on him, groaning and swearing when Steve reaches up to press against his stomach. He pulls harder than he means to when he comes, his fists tight in Steve’s hair, and Steve moans loudly, lapping at his dick until Eddie pulls him away.
“Fuck, c’mere.”
Eddie sits up and pulls him into a kiss. He can taste himself in Steve’s mouth.
When he pulls away he tugs at Steve’s arms so he moves to sit at the edge of the bed. Eddie falls to his knees on the floor between his legs and gazes up at him.
He likes looking up at Steve. He does it every time they shower, hard tile on his knees as he rubs soap on Steve’s legs and feet. It always feels a bit holy in a way. Like Steve is his saviour. (Which, Eddie supposed, he is.) Like he’s going to place his hand on Eddie’s head and bless him.
Steve seems to see how Eddie weakens on the floor, and he reaches out, holding Eddie’s face in his hands, and he leans down to kiss his forehead. Eddie whimpers.
He gently guides Eddie’s head down to his dick, and Eddie eagerly takes him into his mouth, his hands lifting to hold Steve’s shins tentatively.
“You can touch me,” Steve says softly, breathless. “Please.”
Eddie’s hands tighten, and he pulls away.
“Don’t say please.”
Steve exhales, looking down at Eddie with half-shut eyes.
“Okay.”
Eddie leans back in, sucking Steve down as he slides a hand over his belly, squeezing affectionately before he traces Steve’s scars as softly as he can with his callused fingertips. Steve’s hips jerk up, but Eddie manages not to gag, closing his eyes. Steve’s fingers wind into Eddie’s hair, and Eddie hums softly, prompting Steve to gently push his head down.
“Fuck,” Steve groans, and Eddie opens his eyes to find Steve looking at the ceiling, his head fallen back, his mouth ajar. Pride knots in Eddie’s chest, and he manages to smile.
Steve’s legs begin to shake as he pulls Eddie’s head up and down, and Eddie slides his hands to wrap his arms around his thighs so they’re over his shoulders. Eddie can feel them trembling, and he moans softly, closing his eyes, focusing on the feeling of the steady weight on his tongue, nudging into his throat.
“Eddie, ‘m gonna come,” Steve says desperately, moving to pull him off, but Eddie’s hands tighten on his thighs and he presses down again. “Eddie, please—”
Eddie pinches his thigh, sending him a glare, but he doesn’t stop, swallowing around him.
“Oh, fuck, ‘m sorry,” Steve cries, clutching at Eddie’s curls. “Baby, I’m— I’m coming, I’m—”
Eddie pulls back to suck at his tip, closing his eyes and squeezing his thighs as Steve comes in his mouth with a loud groan.
“Jesus,” Steve says breathlessly when he comes down, still holding Eddie’s head, and Eddie sits back, grinning at him brightly. “You have fun?” Steve asks dryly, raising an eyebrow, and Eddie’s grin grows, his chin lifting as he slouches.
“Yeah. Like it when you hold me down.”
“Kinky fucker.”
“Mhmm.”
He lays his head on Steve’s leg and gazes up at him. Steve brushes his hair out of his face, gazing back.
“Did I taste like the pool?” Steve asks after a few moments, and Eddie grins.
“Little bit.” He sets his chin on Steve’s leg and blinks, fluttering his lashes. “I don’t mind.”
“Why don’t you like it when I say please?” Steve asks curiously, playing with Eddie’s hair. Eddie closes his eyes, sighing.
“‘Cause you don’t have to,” Eddie says softly. He moves his hands to hold Steve’s calf, shifting so he’s hugging it to himself. “I wanna give you anything you want.”
Steve just gazes at him, touching his face, brushing over his skin that’s tacky with dried tears.
“Kinda just want you tell me,” Eddie says quietly. “But you’re so sweet, you always ask so nicely.”
“You don’t want me to ask nicely?” Steve asks, smiling, almost teasing.
“I’m saying you don’t have to,” Eddie says. His chest presses to Steve’s leg. “You can just tell me what you want. I’ll give it to you.” He tilts his head into Steve’s gentle hand. “Even if you’re not asking nicely I know you’re sweet with me.”
Steve is smiling softly, and his fingers move to lift Eddie’s chin.
“Get up here and kiss me.”
Eddie’s body flushes with heat, and he grins brightly, lifting up on his knees and letting Steve tilt his chin up as their lips crash together.
He falls asleep sprawled on top of Steve, legs on either side of his hips, arms on either side of his head with his fingers in his hair, and Steve tucks his face into Eddie’s neck, arms tight around his waist.
(The hickeys Steve left behind last ages. Luckily he tends to wear long sleeves and long pants anyway, but the ones on his neck are glaringly obvious for a frankly absurd amount of time. Robin and Wayne both have field days calling Steve a vampire. Eddie just keeps his mouth shut about the bruises on his arms and chest and belly and legs.)
(Steve likes to press his fingers into the bruises to make them ache. Eddie likes it too.)
———
It’s August. The kids are going back to school soon, and Steve’s invited them all, and the older kids, over for a movie night. They do movie nights a lot now, usually at Steve’s or the Wheelers’. And D&D nights. Those are usually at Steve’s just so Eddie doesn’t have to drive around town, but Mrs Wheeler is actually really nice to him. Mr Wheeler doesn’t seem to like him at all, but he leaves him alone when Nancy and Mike defend him tooth and nail, and when Holly gives him a messy drawing.
The kids are getting sorted in the living room with Robin, who somehow is the best babysitter. The kids all listen to her. (They call her Dad.) Eddie is sitting on a counter in the kitchen, watching Steve as he pours chips into bowls, as he sorts cookies on a plate. (He likes baking now, apparently. He looks cute with an apron on.)
Eddie kicks his feet, ignoring the way Nancy rolls her eyes at him. She’s already teased him, said he looks lovesick when he looks at Steve, like he should have a halo of birds and butterflies and his heart should be beating out of his chest like in the cartoons. He just rolled his eyes and blushed.
Steve hands her two bowls with a light, “Thanks, Nance,” and she takes them, smiling and giving Eddie another look. Steve misses the look, already moving onto something else, and Eddie just sticks his tongue out at her.
“You okay?” Steve asks lightly, and Eddie just gazes at him. He’s filling a glass at the sink, looking up at Eddie until he flicks it off easily and lifts the glass to his lips.
Eddie smiles, gripping the edge of the counter as Steve sips at the water. He shrugs when Steve raises an eyebrow.
“I love you,” he says quietly.
Steve grins, his teeth on the rim of the glass, and his cheeks flush pink. He looks to the door of the kitchen, leaning back to see past it into the living room before he steps close and kisses Eddie.
“I love you too.”
He holds the glass up for Eddie to take it.
“Drink the rest.”
Steve has stopped saying please. In the bedroom (or living room sometimes, and once, the kitchen), he tells Eddie what he wants, what he needs. Pull harder. Faster. Do that again. Even in their daily lives he doesn’t use the word, but, as Eddie expected, he’s still so sweet. Can you put the dishes away? Would you tidy up the D&D stuff? Baby, shower?
Eddie groans dramatically, and Steve raises an eyebrow.
“Don’t make me say please.”
“Oh, wow.” Steve giggles, and Eddie’s cheeks flush. “You’re really using that against me?”
“Only if I have to.” He tilts his head. “Drink the water.”
Eddie drinks the water.
“Can I say thank you?” Steve asks when he finishes, smiling happily, and Eddie nods. “Thank you, baby.”
Eddie leans forward.
“Anything,” he whispers. Steve grins.
“Anything?”
“Mhmm.”
“Will you take the rest of the food into the living room?”
“For you, yeah.”
Eddie hops down and Steve catches him as he passes, an arm over his waist. Steve pulls him close, smiling, and he presses a soft, lingering kiss to his lips.
Eddie pulls away, taking a breath, and their foreheads press.
“Everyone is in the next room,” Eddie whispers softly, holding Steve’s arm. His eyes are almost closed. “Someone could come in.”
“We’re not doing anything wrong,” Steve murmurs. “‘M just loving on my husband.”
Eddie grins and kisses him again.
“I love you so much,” he breathes. “Like so so much.”
“I love you so much too,” Steve says gently, and he pulls Eddie into a hug Eddie didn’t realise he needed. Eddie’s arms wrap around Steve’s waist tightly, and Steve buries his face in his neck.
They sway as they hold each other, sighing, until a quiet, “Hello?” comes from the doorway. They pull apart with some difficulty, and Eddie notices that Steve looks sleepy. Max is in the doorway, frozen, staring at them blankly.
“Hey, Red,” Eddie says, his arm lingering around Steve’s waist. Steve’s arm stays on Eddie’s shoulder.
“Everything okay?” she asks, softer than Eddie expects.
“Yeah,” he says. “Steve’s just mushy.”
He looks at Steve, making a split second decision, and he leans in to kiss him softly.
“I’m not mushy,” Steve argues, but Eddie can’t respond before Max huffs from the doorway.
“That was the single most disgustingly loving thing I’ve ever seen,” Max says. Eddie blinks.
“Thanks?”
“So you guys are together?”
“Uh, yeah,” Steve says, his fingers in Eddie’s hair.
“Figured.”
“Yeah?” Eddie says. “How so?”
“Woke up in the middle of night last time we all slept over and you guys were fully cuddling on the sofa,” she says dryly. “It was very gay.”
Eddie just looks down and nods, shrugging.
“Makes sense.”
“It’s cool by the way,” she says lightly. “If you guys are…”
She gestures at them vaguely.
“…In… love?” Steve finishes for her.
She smiles. It’s not a smile Eddie sees on her often, soft and light and real.
“Yeah,” she says. “That.”
“You don’t think anyone will mind?” Eddie asks. He leans against Steve, who pulls him closer.
“Nah,” she says easily. “I mean— Mike’s gonna lose his shit but that’s a given. And Dustin’s gonna lose his shit but in a different way. But everyone else…” She shrugs. “I’m pretty sure most of us are queer anyway.”
Eddie blinks.
“Oh,” he says as Steve says, “Huh.”
“Anyway,” Max says. “Can I have some water? I need to take my meds.”
“Yeah, ‘course.” Steve kisses Eddie’s temple before he turns away and fills a glass at the sink. Eddie watches. Max doesn’t know why he looks at him with such pride, why he looks so emotional about Steve just filling a cup with water, but she doesn’t need to know.
Jonathan and Argyle show up later with three pizzas. One has pineapple, because El likes it, and she convinced Max and Lucas to try it. They both like it. Mike calls them all fiends. Steve tries a bite from Max’s slice and grimaces. Eddie refuses to try it because he doesn’t like pineapple at all.
After the food is all gone, they all settle in to watch the movie, but there’s a sleepy air in the room that tells Eddie that everyone is spending the night. Robin has her head in Nancy’s lap.
Eddie makes grabby hands at Steve when he comes back from taking dishes to the kitchen, and Steve’s expression melts into a warm smile. He moves to sit between Eddie’s legs, his back to Eddie’s chest, and Eddie wraps his arms around him.
“So is Steve like… your boyfriend, or something?” Mike says suddenly, and Eddie looks to find him looking up at them from where he’s sitting on the floor. The room is silent except for the movie, almost tense as everyone looks from Mike to Eddie and Steve.
“He’s my husband, Wheeler,” Eddie says easily, pulling Steve tighter against himself. “Get it right.”
The others give light laughs around the room, and Mike stares blankly.
“You could do better.”
“I think I’m doing okay,” Eddie says softly, pressing a kiss to the back of Steve’s neck.
“Everyone’s cool with it?” Steve asks, his hands set on Eddie’s gently. Eddie nudges his nose against the nape of his neck, under his hair.
There are affirming hums and nods around the room. Dustin is beaming brighter than Eddie’s ever seen, his eyes almost squeezed shut.
“Dustin,” Eddie says politely. “Do you have something to say?”
“Not really,” Dustin says lightly, shrugging, relaxing against the sofa he’s sitting against. Erica is side-eyeing him expectantly. “Kinda already knew.”
“Did everyone already know?” Steve questions, looking around at all the nods. “How?”
“You guys just…” Jonathan shrugs. “Look in love.”
“You look at him like my dad looks at my mom,” Lucas contributes.
“So like you’ve been married for twenty years,” Erica adds. Dustin is still grinning.
“Huh,” Steve says again. “…Okay.”
They go back to watching the movie. Steve is the first one to fall asleep out of the whole group, his breaths soft and heavy as he shifts to press his face into Eddie’s neck. Eddie catches Dustin glance over at them and grin again. Erica elbows him and hisses at him to stop being weird. His smile doesn’t go away.
—————————
Steve still has bad days. Days that he needs Robin to wash his hair in the sink or stay by his side while he holds his hands under the water. Days that he needs Eddie to stand with him outside the shower while it runs until he can work up the nerve to pull his shirt off. Days that he wants to reach for a bottle, and instead reaches the phone for someone to come over. (One day, Jonathan is the only one that picks up, and he comes over immediately, with a pile of records and cassettes to show Steve, no questions asked.)
He has better days. Another day in the pool with Eddie, this time working slowly toward the deep end. He panics as soon as his feet around touching the ground, but Eddie is right there to pull him back, his hands firm against him. He kisses him when his breathing slows. Robin comes over to play in the pool with them one day, wearing her underwear and one of Eddie’s old t-shirts, and she smiles so brightly when she finds him in the water that Steve thinks everything is going to be okay.
No one else knows about the water, but he doesn’t think he needs to tell them. None of them ask questions, even the day his fear randomly, suddenly, infuriatingly acts up as he’s cleaning, and Eddie has to pull him from the room as Robin shuts off the sink. They’re all patient. And kind.
And even when Steve thinks he doesn’t deserve it he lets himself have it. He lets himself melt into Eddie’s arms when it’s hard, and lets himself accept the cheek kisses Robin and Nancy and Argyle give him.
And when he goes to bed at night with Eddie’s heartbeat on his cheek or Eddie’s hair in his face, he think he doesn’t really wanna die anymore.